Prologue
395 Words
Prologue
United Kingdom
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A few minutes after midnight
London, Eaton Square
Sophia felt the evil approach her. Her head tossed on the pillow and her hands gripped the sheets. She knew there was no escaping the men.
No…
No.
NO!
A great pain tore through her heart, making her whole body convulse. She awoke from her own screams, her right hand gripping her scarred left arm, long nails digging in as the nightmare faded away, leaving nothing but a void in her mind.
She fumbled for her table lamp. Light flooded the room gleaming on her square diamond ring and wedding band.
She exhaled slowly and sat on the bed. She dropped her forehead dropped to her knees, which she drew to her chest, hugging herself.
Why?
Why can’t I remember?
She rose from the bed, donned her wrap and unlocked her bedroom door.
Padding silently to the living room, she looked at the photo of a tall, blond man, and fat tears fell from her eyes.
London, Park Lane
Ethan sat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard and pillows as he raked a hand through his brown sun-kissed hair.
The woman lying beside him on the bed sighed with pleasure and curled up against his strong thigh.
He studied the gorgeous brunette clinging to him and grimaced, disgusted with himself for having to pay for his s****l pleasures.
Why does she keep haunting me?
Why can’t I feel anything for a woman?
Why can’t I let myself be loved?
Scotland, Northern Highlands
The whip lashed across the woman’s back and she screamed.
A dark smile spread over Alistair’s rugged features. His arm descended again and again and again, raising red, angry welts on the woman’s skin.
The sound of leather against skin, feminine screams, and heavy masculine breathing filled the room.
He threw the whip away, turned the woman on the bed, and thrust into her as he tore the blindfold away.
Blue eyes stared adoringly at him. And the memory of another face masked the one in front of him. The face of a dead woman who had robbed him of what he had considered most precious.
Rot in hell.
An incredible anger surged through him and he grabbed her long blonde hair in his hands, yanking her head back.
One more w***e.
One more to torment me.
Is this what I really want?
- Writer
