Page 12 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
My hand slides over the rough fabric upholstered on every divider. The scratch under my palms is sharper than I remember. Something pricks my finger.
“Ouch,” I pull my hand away, inspecting it. A blood pool blooms on the pad of my middle finger.
Frowning, I suck on the injury, suddenly hearing voices.
I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I feel pulled to them. My mind is yelling at me to leave, but my feet, lighter than earlier, bring me closer to the hallway. The closer I get, the thicker the air becomes with humidity. The red glow causes my skin to itch and almost burn, but I can’t seem to stop my body from progressing.
The voices are aggressive, but their words are still muffled.
“What am I doing?” I whisper, as my chest tightens and anxiety claws up my spine.
Pop Pop Pop
My body flinches as I scream.
Run.
Only, I can’t.
Whimpering, I yell at my legs to move, but I’m glued to this office carpet, thick and foreboding.
“Nosy little bitch,” Marcus’ voice says from somewhere I can’t see. “Couldn’t do as you’re told.”
His voice slithers over my body like tar. The red light goes out, and it’s complete darkness.
“Marcus?” I call out. “Please,” I plead.
A large, calloused hand wraps around my throat. I scream, but my windpipe is crushed, and I wheeze for air. I scratch at my neck desperately.
Hot, wet air meets my ear as a deeper, terrifying darkness leans into my back.
“You’re insignificant,” the voice hisses.
A voice, I believe is Marcus, but also, it doesn’t sound like him. It’s grittier, deeper, other than.
“I can find you. Anywhere you go, I’ll be there,” he continues as I fight, but this darkness encasing me holds me hostage. My legs still can’t move. Only my hands are at my mercy.
A gurgle escapes in my attempt to demand he let me go.
A sickening, low laugh in my ear has dark shivers bleeding down my gut. “I’ll kill you…then everyone you love.”
“No!”
A guttural cry releases.
My body is free. I thrash, screaming as air finally fills my lungs. Arms wrap around my torso, trapping me.
“No,” I cry out, screeching like a banshee, determined not to be a victim. “Let me go! Leave me alone!”
“Anna,” a strong, firm voice that is not Marcus, calls over my screams. “You were dreaming. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
My eyes shoot open, and the darkness that tormented me fades into dim, warm lighting. I’m not at the office but in a wood cabin. Tears fall, clearing my vision as I look down at the arms holding me. Strong, tattooed arms. Turning my face left, Luke’s broad chest with the kaleidoscope of designs colored on his chest and up his neck mesmerizes me as I blink away the nightmare.
I fell asleep.
Embarrassed, I hesitate to look up at his face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
Luke gently rocks me.
