Page 3 of One Forbidden Moment

He shifted his grip, lifting her easily despite her attempts to twist away.She was shaking.Terrified of him.

"Come on," he muttered, turning back toward the house."We're leaving."

She stiffened in his arms, but she didn't fight again.Not yet.He didn't trust that to last.

He carried her out of the trees, back across the yard, the motorcycle waiting like a dark promise in the driveway.He needed to move.Needed to get back on the road.Needed to find the veil.

Before this world swallowed him whole.

He needed to get back to Everstill.At least there, he could forget what happened on the other side of the veil.He could let the numbness of everyday life make him content again.

Chapter 2

Jillian

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Her kidnapper's armslocked around her like iron bands, lifting her off the ground before she could even drag in another breath.Jillian didn't scream.Screaming wouldn't help.No one was out here.No one would hear her.No one would rescue her.

Her lungs burned from running.Her legs shook so hard she could barely stand.

With his arm wrapped around her waist, he carried her back toward the motorcycle, his grip unbreakable, his breath harsh against the side of her face.She twisted, a weak, instinctive jerk of her shoulders, but he didn't even react.He kept walking, boots crunching over gravel like he was hauling a bag of laundry instead of a person.

She gave up fighting.What was the point?No one knew she was gone.No one would notice her missing.Most days, her mom forgot who she was, and on good days, she had to keep reminding her that her name was Jillian and she was her daughter.

She wasn't due to work at the nursing home until Monday, though she often went over the weekend to see her mom.If she were honest with herself, there were three whole days when she could vanish, and the world wouldn't suspect a thing.

He set her down beside the motorcycle and guided her onto the seat with a rough, impatient shove.This time, he lifted her leg, forcing her to straddle the gas tank.He manipulated her as if she were a doll he could position wherever he wanted.Her legs trembled, and she was weaker than she'd ever been.Fear stole everything from her.

His hands were big and terrifying as he adjusted her hips forward, pressing her closer to the handlebars.

She didn't dare look back at him.She'd seen enough already.The shaggy, dirty-blonde hair.The tattoos.The hard jaw and even harder eyes.His whiskers were darker, shadowing his face.He looked like the kind of man who belonged to a motorcycle club.Like someone she'd cross the street to avoid.The kind who didn't care what happened to girls like her.

He climbed behind her, the seat dipping under his weight.His chest pressed against her back.His arms came around her, gripping the handlebars and keeping her imprisoned between his arms.

The engine roared to life beneath them.