Hardline (25 page)

  
“Get out.” My voice lacked the force I’d meant to deliver with the demand.
 

  
When I opened my eyes, he’d come closer, facing me.
 

  
“I’m just saying, if you wanted to fuck someone for your funding, I was right there. You know that’s what everyone thinks, right? You don’t need me to ruin your reputation. You did that all by yourself, sweetheart.”
 

  
I winced. “You’re lying.”

  
“Am I? People love to talk. A little bit of industry gossip can spread quickly if started in the right circles. Pretty girl like you, taken under the wing of someone like Landon. He’s got a reputation of his own, you know. You’re the last in a long line, so don’t go feeling special just because he’s going to marry you.”

  
“You don’t know anything about who he really is. He loves me—” I stopped myself, confused by how slow the words were leaving me. How tired my body suddenly felt. I shook my head, but the movement only made me dizzier. I was drunk, suddenly more drunk than I could remember being in a long time.
Shit.

  
I stared down at my glass, and amidst the rising bubbles, barely visible granules floated near the well of the glass. I looked up, my vision blurring. When Max came into focus, his perfect white teeth gleamed through a deviant smile. He was a demon in disguise, if I’d ever met one.
 

  
“We’ll see if he loves you after tonight.”

  
A surge of panic powered my legs to carry me toward the door, but he blocked my passage catching me by the upper arms.
 

  
“Going so soon? Stay a while.”
 

  
He shuffled me backwards and shoved me back onto the couch. A new wave of fatigue hit me with the impact. I struggled to hold myself upright. Every muscle sagged, weighted with this new and sudden weakness. I’d underestimated him before, and now again. Confusion swirled through me as I tried to think my way through what was happening. My mind was moving too slow, my attention scattering until he was beside me, catching my jaw painfully so I faced him.
 

  
“Best case scenario, I thought you’d look like a fall down drunk in front of Blake’s family. But this is so much better. Now I’ll get a little taste and maybe…just maybe we can ruin Blake’s happily ever after when he sees you this way. Drunk, just fucked, like the cunt that you are.”
“Max, no.” My head felt like a drum barrel, buzzing with a never-ending soundless vibration. I told my limbs to move, but when they did, it was Max pushing me down sideways on the couch.

  
Then his mouth was on me, forcing his tongue past my lips. Feebly I pushed at him. He answered the weak effort with a snicker, his breath hot on my face.
 

  
“That’s right, MacLeod said you were a fighter. You get around, don’t you? Does Blake know what a little slut you are?”
 

  
The mention of Mark’s name conjured a memory deep and violent. “Please, no,” I slurred. The words melted into the space between us, along with my fading consciousness.
 

  
He muffled my weak cries.
 

  
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. I’ve had a hard on for you for months, Erica. Going to show you what it feels like to get fucked by a real man, not some two-bit hacker riding on my family’s success. If we’re lucky, you’ll remember it too.”
 

  
I grasped desperately for control, to fight the paralysis that slid like cold molasses through my veins, making everything slow. My lungs struggled for air, the effort to breathe taxed amidst the rising panic and whatever invisible enemy my body was fighting.

  
“That’s a good girl.”
 

  
Losing my grip, I was vaguely aware of him pressing me roughly through my panties.

  
No, no, no. God, no.
 

  
No one would hear me, but my mind screamed it until my vision went black.
 

My eyes fluttered open, and then fell shut. Every time I reached for consciousness, something knocked me back down. I’d never been this tired in my life. Even as my conscious mind began to grasp details from what happened, my body demanded sleep. I gave in yet fought the unsettling urge. Something wasn’t right about it. The weariness weakened my muscles, sank into my tired bones.
 

  
As I drifted in and out of sleep, my stomach twisted, sickness brewing in my gut. The potent nausea and the real threat that I’d be sick right where I lay was what finally propelled me out of bed. On my feet, I shoved the bathroom door open and barely made it to the toilet.
 

  
Several exhausting minutes later, I sat unmoving on the floor. My head rested on my arm as I caught my breath.
 

  
“Baby.”
 

  
Blake’s pained voice came up behind me. Then his arms were cradled around me. He palmed my back, the heat of his touch penetrating the thin nightshirt I wore. The fatigue took root again, weakening me in the security of his arms. I sat back against him and wiped my mouth, determined not to make a bed out of the bathroom floor.
 

  
He kissed my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  
I nodded. “Better now.” Thankfully, being ill had quelled the sick feeling for the time being. I wanted to move, to shake this weight that settled over me. “Help me up? I feel so weak.”

  
“Sure. Just go slow.”

  
I nodded again, the task of lifting to my feet impossible at the moment. He circled my shoulders and then my waist until I was upright. He tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear, and I caught his reflection in the mirror. His normally expressive eyes hid behind the dark rimmed glasses that he rarely wore.
 

  
I let go of the security of his solid body and held myself up at the sink, gathering enough of my strength to wash my face and brush my teeth. He brushed my hair back from my face and neck, allowing the cold sweat to evaporate off my skin.

  
“Do you want some tea? Can I get you anything?”

  
“Tea would be good, I think.” My voice was so small. I couldn’t be sure he’d heard me until he stepped away, kissing me gently on the cheek before he went.
 

  
I could have been sleeping on my feet, but I managed to make my way back to our bed. In the whirlwind of this physical onslaught, my mind kept asking what had happened. What had brought this on? This wasn’t a hangover. This wasn’t any kind of sick I’d ever been, and my brain was too murky to make sense of it. I sank into the bed and the second the blanket covered me, the welcome warmth was just enough to pull me back into the same deep sleep.
 

  
The night was black but slowly the details of my surroundings began to register. The grass was wet on my feet. Cool against the warm air. Then he yanked me forward. Ignorant as I was, I still knew where we were going. The same place he’d always led me. A hundred times maybe, and I went every time. Like the stupid, drunk girl I was, I followed.
 

  
Laughter. Everyone was laughing, celebrating. People I knew. I frowned, wondering why they were all here.
 

  
The pressure of his grip on my arm increased enough to be painful, and the familiar fear coiled in my gut. It was coming.
 

  
The vicious sneer, an expression painted on by his smug satisfaction, his hatred. He hated me. He had to, to do this to me. I’d plead, but he’d pin me down. The same gravel in his voice as he gritted out his plan for me.

  
Except when I met his eyes they were different. No longer the dark round irises that haunted me. Confused, I searched his features until they solidified and recognition dawned. Max. The face, this body pressing down on me now, belonged to Max.
 

  
My heart lurched seconds before the familiar pain. No matter how hard I fought, he’d always find his way in the darkness, taking what he wanted.
 

  
Powerless, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t run. Gasping for air, grasping for reality, I said his name. A questioning plea. Then, realizing I had a voice, even over the noise and the blur of laughter around us, I screamed. I screamed for help.

  
I shot up in the bed still screaming until I realized I was home, in our bedroom. Air rushed in and out of my lungs, feeding the lightheadedness. My skin crawled, tingling with sweat and imagined trails of another man’s hands on me.

  
I started when Blake barreled through the door. He was shirtless, dressed in his pajama pants. He circled the bed and slowed, sitting on the edge of the bed. My breathing was ragged and uneven. After a minute he spoke, barely a whisper.
 

  
“Can I hold you, baby?”
 

  
Eyes wide, I held his gaze. I couldn’t speak, still too much in the dream. Could I let him? Did I want him to? I couldn’t make sense of anything until he reached for me tentatively.
 

  
I caught his hands between us, keeping them at a safe distance. The sudden contact shot remembered pain through me. Still, against every instinct, I held them, something in me not wanting to let go. I clenched my jaw down, swallowing hard over the dry knot in my throat. Tears welled, but something inside me fought the reflex to fight. My rational mind reminded me that he was no enemy, that I needed him. Like holding onto an electric fence, I simply waited out the panic and pain.
 

  
“Erica…sweetheart. Breathe. It’s just me, okay?”

  
I breathed through it until my body relaxed enough to let me speak. I found my voice again, now hoarse. “I had a dream. I... I’m not sure what happened.”
 

  
“A nightmare...like the others?”

  
I nodded quickly. He’d known about the dream and how it crept up on me sometimes, as much as I wished it would disappear forever.
 

  
“Kind of, but it was Max. He was Max, somehow.”

  
I recalled his face, the dream version merging with the face my conscious mind knew. Then a rush of visions from the party fluttered through my brain. Marie, Michael, and a blur of people. Then Max, his arrogant smile as he hovered over my powerless body. Bile rose in my throat. I let go of Blake and wrapped my arms around myself, as if that could protect me from what my mind was showing me now.

  
“Blake, what happened?” I rushed, my eyes now wide with alarm. “I can’t remember, but I know something happened. Just tell me.”

  
The grief in Blake’s eyes as he worked his jaw confirmed it. “He didn’t hurt you, baby.”
 

  
Reaching up to touch me, he fisted his hand and lowered it before he could make contact. His complexion was pale save a dark bruise on his cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he was restraining himself from touching me more. Then I noticed his hand, a thick white bandage wrapped around it.

  
“You’re hurt.”

  
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “He’s hurt worse.”
 

  
I covered my mouth. A new wave of nausea hit me as I tried to string the words together to ask him. I didn’t want to know, but I had to. I held Blake’s gaze, searching, wishing I didn’t need to ask. If I didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to tell me.
 

  
The tears poured from my eyes as my body shook. I could only piece together a few details from the night, but somehow I knew something terrible had happened. And heaven help me, it had happened at Max’s hand.
 

  
“I need to know what he did,” I whispered.
 

  
He closed his eyes a moment as if to collect his anger. “I walked in on Max…touching you. He didn’t—he didn’t have sex with you.”

  
My eyes clenched shut, forcing more tears out. “Oh God.”

  
“You were drugged. It was obvious. You could barely move. You’ve been sleeping for a couple days.”

  
“Why would he do this? Why?” The words came out in a sob as I struggled to understand why he’d want to hurt me, to put me through the kind of torture that I’d barely survived before.

  
“He’ll never do anything like it again.”

  
“How can you know that?”

  
His eyes became serious and still in the brief silence. “I rearranged his fucking face, Erica, that’s why. We’re both lucky I didn’t kill him because I had every intention of it. Took three of them to pull me off of him.” He flexed his hand, grimacing.
 

  
“Everyone saw. I can’t imagine what they must think.”
 

  
He reached for my hand, pulling it away from my face. I licked my dry lips and took a steadying breath. The contact didn’t hurt the way it had a moment ago. Something had rearranged in my mind as the dream separated from reality.

  
“They don’t think anything. They know what he did. My mom’s been worried sick. Marie’s been calling off the hook. Alli, Christ, I’ve had to turn her away a few times. I haven’t had anyone by so you could rest. I knew you’d need some time. No one thinks any less of you. I can guarantee they think a hell of a lot less of him.”