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And then he let me go. He trusted me enough to keep his secret, to walk away knowing that the man who lives deep in the woods, high on the mountain, is more than a fairy tale, more than a story told to young children as they drift off to sleep. I wish I had a magic mirror now, something I could look into and call his name, something that would let him see me and know I need him.

Lucien’s hands slide beneath my shirt, his fingers digging into my ribs hard enough to make me twist because it hurts.

“Think of everything I could give you,” he says, his expensive cologne suddenly so strong and suffocating that I turn my face away, desperate for clean air, for something familiar.

I want the man who smells like rosemary and jasmine.

I shove Lucien off me—or try to—but he catches both my wrists and forces them back down.

I buck and twist, fighting with everything I have. Lucien only draws in a long, impatient breath before looking around the room. His gaze comes to rest on the coil of rope hanging beside the door, the one I bought a few days ago to fix the clothesline after the old one finally snapped.

“No!” I gasp.

He yanks me to my feet and drags me toward the door, snatching the rope from its hook before kicking the backs of my knees and sending me crashing onto my stomach. I barely have time to catch myself before both arms are wrenched behind me and the rope is wrapped tightly around my wrists.

A sob tears straight from my chest, followed by terrified, uncontrollable tears I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. I struggle against the rope while Lucien reaches for my clothes, panic making every movement frantic as I realize exactly what he intends to do.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long,” he groans.

I work my wrists desperately against the bindings, twisting and pulling until the rope burns my skin, but the knot refuses to give. Both his hands slide under mine and he works my pants down. Once they’re lowered, he pulls them completely off. Terror crashes through me so violently that I scream.

“No!”

I kick and thrash, trying to crawl forward, trying to find enough leverage to get out from under him, but his weight forces me back against the floor. My bound wrists are trapped painfully between my back and his chest.

Something cold drips down my crack, and panic explodes through me as his finger follows the trail of oil. He pushes one inside me without warning.

“Lucien, please! Stop!”

The scream tears out of me, but Lucien doesn’t stop. Nothing I do makes him stop. I twist against the floor, wrenching at the rope until it burns around my wrists, but when his weight comes down over me, nausea surges into my throat.

Then he thrusts.

I freeze.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t care how badly it hurts. He doesn’t care that I’m crying, that I’m fighting, that I’ve already told him no more times than I can count.

“Lucien, stop!”

He ignores me.

My cheek presses against the cool floor as I stare at nothing, unable to understand how the room can still look exactly the same while this is happening to me. The table is still there. My father’s chair is still beside the window.

It goes on and on until time stops meaning anything, until there is nothing beyond the floor beneath my cheek, the rope cutting into my wrists, and the horrible certainty that nothing I say is going to end this.

Then a thought comes flooding in, one so painful that whatever control I have left finally shatters.

If Rhys were here, he’d stop this.

The realization pushes me over the edge into complete hysteria, and I sob so hard I can barely breathe. My entire body shakes while I desperately wish for a man who is miles away and has no idea what is happening to me.

“This will be our life every day from now on,” Lucien says against my ear.

I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow repeatedly against the nausea burning the back of my throat, trying desperately not to be sick. His hands plant beside my head and his hips continue moving until I feel a warm flood. The sound he makes is low, satisfied. Victorious. Eventually his weight disappears, but before I can even process the relief, he grabs me and rolls me onto my back.

I gasp when his fingers close around my chin.