Then I came back here and I met him. The first time he touched me, I had this awful, horrid sensation . . . death.”
“He can’t hurt you now,” Joss growled. “He can’t hurt you ever again.”
Dru smiled sadly. “Oh, I’m not worried about him now. If it hadn’t been for the job, for what I had to do, he never would have hurt me to begin with. I was counting, you know. Every time he touched me. Every time he hurt me, scared me. Threatened me. All of it . . . and I promised myself I’d bloody him. He doesn’t worry me now,” she said, her voice savage. “But then . . .”
It hit her in a rush, breath stealing. The cold water. The heaviness of her dress. She’d never learned how to swim. The weight of her skirts, dragging her down. Choking on the water. And Thom . . . in her mind, she’d felt so guilty because even though she’d longed to be with him . . . had been ready to end her own life, even . . . yes. She remembered even that. The knife she’d tucked into her purse . . . no. Reticule. It had been called a reticule. She’d had it in her bag and was thinking about killing herself. Debating over it even as she tried to convince herself there were other options. Cousins . . . she’d had cousins up north . . . yes. More memories breaking free.
Then Richard—
Big hands, hard, strong . . . but so gentle closed over her shoulders, forcing her to turn. She found herself staring at the black T-shirt stretching over his wide chest. A nice chest, all in all. She wanted to lean against him and just rest. Close her eyes for a while and rest.
“What’s going on, Dru? There’s something in your eyes . . .”
“Memories,” she whispered.
“Dru,” he growled. He cupped her chin and some of his gentleness was lost under his frustration. As he pushed his hand into her hair, he moved in closer, crowding his body against hers. “Talk to me, damn it.”
Talk to me . . .
How did she tell him this?
Sighing, she reached up and closed her hand over his wrist, thinking to tug him away. It would be easier, she thought. If she wasn’t touching him. But instead, she found herself curling her fingers around him tighter . . . clinging to him. Closing her eyes, she leaned in and pressed her head to his chest. “It was here,” she murmured again. “All those dreams, it all comes back to this place. I saw him kill you here. And I sat by your side, and watched. You told me to run, but I couldn’t leave you . . . then, when I tried to stay away from him, he wouldn’t let me.”
She swallowed. “All those details are fuzzy, but he wouldn’t let me go. I have memories of coming back here. Day after day. And then one day, he was here. He was angry . . . and then . . .”
A fist clamped around her throat and the words she tried to pushed out were trapped. Lodged there. Choking her. Choking . . .
“Dru!”
* * *
THE dream ended in a harsh, broken cry.
Jerking awake, Joss crouched over Dru and hauled her upright. Her eyes, still glazed with fear, stared into his.
Her mouth was slack, her breathing coming in harsh pants like she’d just gotten done running a marathon.
“Dru!”
She whimpered.
He went to touch her face and saw the cuffs. Growling, he used his free hand, cupping her cheek, leaning in and pressing his brow to hers. “Dru, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I . . . I can’t . . .”
Odd bits and pieces of emotion splintered off her, and he eased his shields down, flinching as he realized just how faulty her shielding had become. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t . . .”
“Shhh . . .” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.
And as their lips touched, another one of those splintered, broken emotions fell away. No. Not an emotion. Memory—
She was back at the lake, just as they’d been in the dream. Only it was Amelie . . . with another man. She wore a black dress, stood there with her hands folded in front of her, head bowed.
“I’m leaving, Richard.”
“Leaving, are you?”
“Yes. Mama has family in Boston and I plan to spend the summer with them. I want to get away