Torn from You

Page 19

The footsteps stopped beside me.
My eyes hit boots. Black leather with ankle mouldings—motorcycle boots that were hidden partially by faded jeans on a pair of long, lean legs.
My eyes went up and up then—
My world stopped.
Oh God, I’d worked so hard at burying the emotions, the pain, the hurt, and most of all the fear, and suddenly it was all back. Months of therapy obliterated.
I couldn’t breathe.
Trapped within tightened lungs, suffocating with the shattering, mind-blowing knowledge of who was right next to me. It was like I had never left.
Logan.
Oh. My. God.
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Logan.
Then he crouched, inches away from me.
My heart rate tripled its speed, and the saliva in my mouth vanished as my past slapped me in the face. Emotions swarmed, attacking me from all directions.
I wanted to run and hide, maybe even cower. This was the man who caused me to hide a knife beneath my mattress for the last two years.
He looked different yet the same somehow. Harder—scarier, definitely. He had a scar running the length of his chin, the place where I used to run my finger across to trace his dimple.
“Mouse.”
I stiffened. No one had called me that since him. Hearing his voice ... him calling me that again—
“Emily.” His voice was barely a whisper, as if he had trouble saying my name.
Logan was still breathtaking, but now even more so, and it unsettled me that I thought that. His hair was a little longer, falling just below his ears in relaxed, soft waves, still messy and multilayered. The scruff on his face was new, and—This man had torn my heart out. God, he made me his sex slave.
Suddenly I was wishing Havoc would trample him, so I could run away.
Logan stood and reached out his hand. My eyes hit his right arm that was now covered in tattoos from his elbow up to beneath his T-shirt. He’d only had his left arm inked before.
Shuffling back on my ass, I scrambled to my feet. In my awkward rush I fell backward and tripped over my riding helmet.
He reached again for me.
“No. Don’t.” I held out my hands while I managed to gain my balance. Logan touching me again ... no. I couldn’t yet register that he was here, in front of me, after two years. Three things crossed my mind. Run like hell. Beat on him, or leap into his arms and kiss him.
I did none of the above.
Logan ignored me and took my arm and pulled me back toward him before I had the chance to escape. I landed with my palms resting on his chest and my gaze hitting his neck. His corded muscles contracted, and his Adam’s apple moved up then down as he swallowed.
Logan. I was in his arms. The guy who wrapped me up in his heart then destroyed it.
The guy I tried to forget. No, damn it, I did forget him. I lived every single day for two years without him. I lived. I suffered, and I breathed. Then I fought my way back and won.
Ironic that he was the one who ended up giving me the tools to repair from the very fear he had instilled in me.
His hand reached up to cup my cheek, and I turned my head away. Despite my lies to myself, I never forgot him.
“Mouse.”
A sob wrenched from my throat as he called me by my nickname.
I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his fingers dug into my arms. He wasn’t letting go, and despite Logan being leaner than when I knew him, he was strong as hell. My mind was reeling with fear, anger and despair. I had to get my shit together. I needed to. I didn’t get this far only to get torn apart again.
Pushing up against the wall of his chest I prepared myself for meeting his eyes and grit my teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
“Emily.” His voice was soft and gentle.
My instinct was to hurt him anyway I could. To push him to the ground and have Havoc stomp all over him with her hooves.
Maybe love couldn’t be forgotten. But maybe, just maybe it could be smothered by hate.
He ignored my steady push on his chest and stroked my hair like he used to do when I lay in his arms. “You hurt?”
“Like you give a shit.” I saw him flinch and was glad.
“Eme. Please.”
My stomach bottomed out. Jesus, it was that voice. That tone. It was like a punch to the gut. “Let me go, Logan.” I shouldn’t have said his real name; I knew it. Damn it, I remembered. Not the bad, but the warm protective man that sang to me. Who picked me up every morning to take me to work. Riding on his motorcycle, my arms around him, feeling so in love—
I pushed on his chest again and the instant he let me go, I immediately took three steps back.
Distance. I may be a little older and have developed backbone but the moment I laid eyes on him again, that began to break away, and I felt him.
“No. You have no right to be here.”
His eyes narrowed when I took another step back. “We need to talk.”
I heard Havoc begin to paw the ground; it was a loud pounding that matched my beating heart. The swarm of heat that shifted across my body was intoxicating. Logan had made me feel real before he betrayed me, and yes, after it was a different kind of real. A raw and eye-opening real of what a man could do to you.
There was nothing to say. I had no words for him, so instead of standing in front of him looking like a mute, I swung around and headed for Havoc.
I heard the footsteps in the dirt behind me just as I reached the white Andalusian. He tagged my hand and pulled me to a stop. “Let me explain, Eme.”
A tremor of fear shifted through me at his tone and the reaction made me angry. “You don’t get to do that. You let me go, remember. I’m free now and I don’t need anything from you. I’m not your fucking sex slave to cram your cock into every night.”
“Jesus,” he growled. “Not once did I take you without your consent. And you know it.”
“That’s because if I didn’t, the consequences were worse.” Okay, I was lying, because I was mad and hurt and yes, I was a little scared too. I had no clue why Sculpt was here, and the thought of going back ... no, I’d never go back.
His voice was quiet, “I never beat you, Emily. I tried to protect you.”
“Is that how you live with yourself? No, you just took away my choices. You watched while other people beat me. You bled my self-esteem. Damn it, you tore my fucking heart out.”
“I got you out when I could.”
“Yeah, in pieces.”
Logan never moved a muscle. Blazing, heated anger shot from his dark, chocolate eyes. “Emily.” Logan paused, as he waited for me to look at him. “I’ve lived two years without you. I’m not doing it any longer. We are going to talk.”
“What?” My heart was pounding so fast I felt I would soon go into cardiac arrest.
“The compound is destroyed.”
My breath hitched as I immediately thought of all those girls. “The girls?”
“Most got out.”
“Most?” What did that mean?
“Raul is dead.”
“So you came to find me to tell me that? That your ruthless, piece-of-shit fucking father is dead? I don’t care. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?”
I paused, and it was a mistake, because he noticed. “You need to leave.”
He moved in, and I saw the intent on his face, the way his brows lowered, how his eyes turned dark. I knew what he was going to do, but before I could turn he grabbed me by the shoulders. “I let you go once, because I had to. Now I don’t.”
I started trembling with anger and fear stirred in my belly. There was an uncertainty if he was going to grab me and carry me away and I’d never be found again.
My trust in Logan had snapped, and it couldn’t be reconnected. “Yeah well, tell that to the police when I call them and have you arrested. They know what happened to me.” But they didn’t know Logan was involved. Maybe that was a mistake. I reached into my back pocket then realized I didn’t have my phone.
“Mouse.” Logan’s hand went to the nape of my neck, and his fingers caressed my skin causing disturbing goose bumps to rise. No. I didn’t want my body to react to him. “You need to understand what went down and to hear it from me.”
That pissed me off. He wanted me to understand? No. Nothing could ever make me understand. “I live every single day with what you did to me.”
So much pain had risen to the surface, because he dared to come here. It hurt. He hurt. The memories hurt. I knew escape was my only answer before I fell back into a place I swore I wouldn’t go again.
“Christ.” Logan ran his hand through his bedroom hair, and the locks fell easily back in place. “I did it to protect you.”
“So I needed to be whipped for protection? And tortured? Oh and let’s not forget that time in the courtyard when I had a gun pressed to my temple by your father and you walked away. And the humiliation of being publically ... fucked.”
Logan stepped closer, and I felt his breath on my skin, his smell wafting into me just as I remembered it. “I never took you against your will. Ever.”
He was right, he never did. Even when he fucked me in the dining hall he’d asked me. We did it to appease Raul and from making the situation any worse.
I felt like stomping like a fifteen-year-old when I was twenty-two. Instead I casually took the few steps to reach Havoc and picked up her lead. I started to walk Havoc from the ring when Logan called out. “Emily.” I kept walking. "I’m sorry it had to happen that way.”
My hand on the latch of the gate dropped. “You don’t get to say that.” I turned, fury encompassing me like I was lit on fire. I dropped the lead and strode over to him glaring, unflinching as he stared right back at me. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry, Sculpt.”
He remained stoic and solid, and I was furious that he could be so calm and put together while I was falling apart inside.
“Emily.” His arms came around me in one heated embrace, and the loss I felt the last two years, the devastation, the loneliness, it was smothered by the weight of him. The tightening in my chest hurt so bad I wondered if my ribs were poking into my lungs. Breathing became unbearable as the distinct memories of this man hit like a tidal wave. My fingers curled into his T-shirt, and I felt the hardness of his chest, the way it contoured over taut skin, remembered how his tattoos rippled when he moved. I remembered, and it pissed me off that it was so clear.
“Let me repair this.”
His whispered words hit me, and I swallowed the sob threatening to escape and embarrass me. I was stronger now. I’d survived him and his father. And I’d survive this too.
I pulled back, instantly feeling the crushing despair descend on me. Why? Why did he come back? “You made me fear you. You made me fear myself. You locked me inside myself so deep that it took me months to break free again. Repair? You think you can repair that?” I huffed. “I think you should be looking at yourself and repairing your fucked up head before you offer to repair someone else.”
I turned and walked away, staring straight ahead, ignoring the heat I felt blazing into my back. And I knew what it was from—Logan.
Chapter 12