get him to release his painful, punishing grip. Her feeble efforts were no match for him. He yanked her to her feet by her hair, slammed her into the wall and held her there, while his other hand closed around her neck and squeezed.
Slowly and purposefully.
Breathing became an impossibility.
Her eyes were wide, panicked and glazed with terrified tears. She stared into his face, searching for the loving man she had married just that afternoon. But she was unable to find him in the features of this hateful, terrifying stranger who now had her helplessly pinned against the wall.
He was screaming at her. Saying horrible things. Calling her despicable names, while his hand continued to tighten around her throat. Black dots swirled in front of her eyes, until his face was obscured by them. His voice was fading…
She was dying. She was sure of it. And that absolute certainty terrified her.
But he released her abruptly and stepped away from her. Without his support, she slid down the wall and collapsed into a limp heap on the floor.
Seconds later, he was on the floor beside her. Crying with her, holding her, apologizing. Begging her to forgive him.
“I played it over and over in my mind afterward,” Charity’s voice was barely a whisper in the dark, and she wasn’t sure if Miles could hear her. “What did I do to set him off? What did I say?”
“He was going to do whatever the hell he was going to do, Charity. Regardless of your actions and words,” Mile’s harsh voice startled her out of her safe confessional and yanked her back to the present.
“He said he was sorry.” Charity’s voice was thick with tears. She was dimly aware that Miles’s free hand was tightly latched onto hers. “Said that he had been so very disappointed to discover that he wasn’t my first, and he hated how I had dismissed and mocked that disappointment. My tone of voice had just triggered something inside of him. I would later understand that it was a pattern with him. I suppose it’s a pattern with most abusers. He’d apologize profusely while reinforcing that it was actually my fault he had reacted the way he had. He was so so sorry but, I shouldn’t have done this, or said that, or worn whatever.”
She became aware that the SUV was no longer moving and looked up in surprise.
“Oh. We’re home.”
“Yes. For several minutes now.” His voice was quiet, as if he were afraid of startling her.
Charity cleared her throat self-consciously and tugged against his grip on her hand. He released his hold on her immediately.
“I need a shower. I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you again, for a lovely evening.”
Miles disliked the distance and formality in her voice and demeanor but he understood her need for space. Listening to her soft, almost dispassionate, recounting of such a harrowing example of abuse—the first of many such incidents—had been absolutely heartbreaking. He had hated hearing about it, had wanted to plead with her to stop…but he had also recognized that he was probably the only person that she had ever told.
That trust meant everything to him. It felt sacred and he would be damned if he would flinch away from it just because he felt fucking physically ill to hear her speak of her trauma.
But she had lived through that nightmare. The least Miles could do was listen.
She was out of the SUV and halfway up the basement stairs before he could say another word. She opened the door, and paused…but didn’t look back. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and disappeared from view.
Only when she was gone did he allow himself to react. He had both hands firmly locked around the steering wheel his grip so tight, his knuckles were white and his palms were starting to hurt. He inhaled, filling his lungs to capacity and holding the air for a long moment before releasing. The sound that emerged from the back of his throat, riding the exhalation, was low, feral…unrecognizably harsh.
He wanted to hold her. Wrap his arms around her and cocoon her from the world. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, love her until all she could see and feel and taste was him. Until he could obliterate what that fucker had done to her from her memories. He would happily give up all his wealth to erase the pain she had suffered. Every bruise, broken bone, burn, bite…and whatever the fuck else that sadistic monster had done