Marked (Primal Obsessions #2) - Cara Wylde Page 0,40

just wanting to get as far away from Colt and that bitch he brought home. How could he? Why? Why, when things seemed to be settling between us all, and even Brooks had made room in his life for me?

But things weren’t good, not even close.

That just went to show how I would always be in the wrong about the men in my life. No one loved me. No one truly wanted me. I was a fool to think I could live among them. Brooks only needed me to raise Milo, and he’d even told me as much. Lincoln had his fetishes. Colt… fuck Colt.

I braced myself against a tree, out of breath. It occurred to me that I had no idea where I was. I turned my head to try and get my bearings, when I heard some twigs break behind me, then strong hands were pawing at my upper body, trying to get a hold of me. I struggled, screaming, hitting and kicking. One of my kicks landed a lucky blow, and I felt my assailant’s kneecap shift.

“Fucking bitch,” he shouted and let me go. Unfortunately for me, his release coincided with a pull forward I did on instinct, and instead of gaining momentum and feeling, I fell at the man’s feet. I looked over my shoulder, shocked to see the very devil standing before me.

Jack. He looked doubly menacing now, with like… black and green war paint on his face, his graying hair dyed black, and an entire armory on his body. This did not bode well for me, I just knew it. I had to get away, to get back to Colt. I only managed to gain a few steps when he tackled me and pressed a cloth against my face. I tried not to inhale the pungent smell, but I needed to breathe.

When I regained consciousness, I was no longer in the forest, but in a cheap motel room, reeking of alcohol, cigarettes and sex.

“Hi, love,” Jack said from somewhere behind me.

I tensed and tried to move my head, but it hurt. Everything hurt. He must’ve bruised me pretty badly when he’d tackled me back in the forest, sandwiching my soft body between the hard ground, with raised tree roots and sharp stones, and his unyielding soldier body.

“Missed me?” he asked.

I knew that tone. He always used it when I did something bad or did nothing at all. I desperately wanted him to move in front of me. Having no clear sight of him, knowing he could be doing whatever behind me, even preparing to strike me again, was making me anxious. Whatever was coming, I wanted to at least see it coming.

“I missed you,” he said and licked my face.

I was so disgusted. I would’ve spat at him if he hadn’t had the common sense to gag me. I would’ve spat, and yelled, and screamed bloody murder until someone called the police, and this time, I would be pressing charges.

“You left me,” he continued his monologue, “and I don’t understand why. I’ve been a good husband to you. I tried to make a good wife out of you. I’m sorry I hit you, baby, but you just learn better like that. I… listen,” he said and crouched in front of me, “I promise to never do it again. Okay?”

He reached out a hand to cup my cheek, but I turned my face away. He could go fuck himself. All those beatings, all those threats, all the tears and pain… those were not lessons. All he’d taught me was to fear and to cry, and to make myself small so he’d stop hitting me.

“Fine, be that way,” he spat. “You think I don’t know? I was trying to give you a second chance here, you fucking bitch!”

He was getting worked up now. He kicked between my legs, his military book landing on the soft plywood of the chair, sending it tumbling back. I bumped my head against the dirty motel carpet, and he came to tower over me.

“Damn whore, you fucked those freaks. That spawn you had with you is yours. Don’t you dare lie to me!”

He pulled me back up by my hair. I surprised myself with how calm I was. Though the calm could best be called numbness. I was going to die. I just knew it. It wouldn’t be Brooks the one to kill me, but Jack. I was going to die alone in a cheap motel room, and no one would