I rub between my eyes, trying to counteract the beginnings of a tension headache, and take a deep breath.
Waking up alone after tossing and turning all night in Nico’s massive penthouse apartment was unexpected and unpleasant. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left the coffee shop yesterday afternoon. Luckily, he updated the security system and gave me full access to everything, including the phone numbers of my driver and guards. The drive to my parents’ house this morning was awkward, but when Camilla walked out the front door and willingly got into the van for the mental health hospital, a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders. We didn’t need to exchange words to say a million things to each other. She let me give her a hug and even squeezed my hand in thanks.
I didn’t completely fail her. She’s no longer under my parents’ oppression and abuse. She’ll get the help she needs.
I drop my hands onto my worktable and press my palms against the dirty surface. After a few neck rolls and deep breaths, I focus on the mess before me.
Nothing in my life makes sense anymore. I stood up to my parents, helped my sister, chose a wedding dress, survived the last of the midterm group critiques, fell in love with a monster, and drove a wedge between us.
I fell in love with a monster repeats in my mind. It’s mortifying how quickly I gave my heart to the man my sister was supposed to marry, but worse is knowing I alienated the only person with enough power to protect me from my mother and father. With every passing minute, I realize how sweet—in his own intense way, of course—and honest he was with me yesterday, but I couldn’t see it through my disappointment. When he’d grabbed me in the car, I couldn’t think beyond my fear, and then everything in my parents’ house had happened so quickly, and I didn’t react well even when he agreed with me. He didn’t come home last night or this morning, but I’m too afraid to text him. His abrupt departure left me staring after him in shock with a keen sense of abandonment.
The icy glint in his eyes was a stark reminder of his occupation, but unlike the gleam of enjoyment in my father’s eye, he became an emotionless shell filled with nothing but brutality and death.
I shiver and grab the nearest clump of clay. The ball slowly becomes more malleable as I work it in my hands. I’ll need a fresh block from the supply closet once I finish this piece.
Most students went home after group critiques, but for the first time in a while, I feel the pull to create. Even with my heart and mind in turmoil, the relief of sending my sister to the hospital opened my creative mind and brought me to the studio. I enjoy the sounds within the room, since a part of me still wallows in the overwhelming silence of Nico’s apartment. Two students bicker near the front, but the lack of heat in their tone paints their interaction as a friendly spat and nothing serious. Donald hums as he works on his piece at his station behind me. A handful of other students go through their group critiques or work without making much noise at all.
Deciding the clay is pliant enough to reach my desired effect, I shape it in my hands before plunking it on the table and leaning on my elbow to start the more intricate patterns.
For a while, I slip into my happy place and simply enjoy creating. The world fades away as the clay molds to my wishes.
I smile and rise when the piece looks exactly how I want it, but my lower back cramps, so I dig my knuckle into the seized muscle and stretch to work the kinks out of my spine.
I reach for the ceiling, fill my lungs, and exhale as I lower my arms.
Heat simmers low in my belly as I remember Nico’s parting kiss. I glance around, embarrassed at my wayward thoughts, and meet Ralf’s eyes. Fear tightens my chest and wipes away my arousal. I clear my throat, send him a half smile to apologize for disrupting him, and turn away.
After fitting the piece I just finished onto the base, I tidy my desk and wipe my hands on my apron before pulling out my phone.
Realizing I spent two hours bent over my work, I close my eyes and breathe in relief.
After the whirlwind of the last week, I thought I’d never find my muse again, but she peeked her head out of her shell today and let me know I’m not broken. Maybe this semester won’t be a total bust.
Nico hasn’t contacted me. In fact, there’s nothing under his contact info. We’ve never called or texted before.
It’s almost lunchtime. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I drank my morning coffee with no food, but I’m not hungry. I want to dive back into my project before I lose my momentum.
Nico’s silence bothers me, though, so I open his contact info and pause before typing out a text.
I don’t know what he’s doing right now, and I don’t know how he’ll respond, but I decide to be bold and test him a little.
@studio. Bring food.
I hesitate before hitting send.
The message sits alone on the screen. I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment and watch in worry, but when my message remains unread, I stick my phone in my pocket and turn my attention to my desk.
Right, I need more clay.
I head to the back of the classroom and into the supply closet. As I flick on the light, my phone buzzes. With my heart in my throat, I pull it out of my pocket and turn the corner toward the back section with the shelf of clays.
The door clicks shut. The light goes out. Heavy footsteps rush toward me. I catch Nico’s name on the screen as I look over my shoulder, and in a panic, I blindly mash what I hope is the answer button and scream.
A hand closes over the entire bottom half of my face, cutting off my scream and blocking both my nose and mouth, and a humongous tank of a body crushes me against the wall.
My phone skitters across the floor and disappears under a shelf.
Ralf. No one in the school is this big except for him.
I kick and claw, but he pins me with his bulk and whispers in my ear.
“You should have stayed away from Nico Russo, little one.”
His accent, much thicker than before, makes it hard to understand him.
I scratch his hand, desperate for oxygen, but he grinds his enormous body against mine and growls. Vomit climbs up my throat as his hard cock rubs against my stomach.
“I wanted first fuck, but no matter. Sloppy seconds will do,” he murmurs in my ear.
I buck and fight. He chuckles and leans more of his weight onto me, stealing the last of the oxygen from my lungs and crushing me so hard my bones ache. Dark spots dance along my vision and my hearing goes fuzzy.
Ralf says something in Russian and pets my head like a wayward dog. Gravity magnifies and my arms drop to my sides despite my mind screaming for them to gouge his eyes out.
He waits until my lashes become too heavy for me to keep my eyes open before he shifts his hand and unblocks my nostrils. I suck down a breath, but with his palm sealed over my mouth, it feels like I’m breathing underwater through a straw.
I lift my hands, but there’s no strength in my arms.
“Shut the fuck up, shlyukha. I will be quick.” He yanks the front of my jeans open, snapping the button off and unzipping it in one motion. “This will hurt, but is so much better.” His breath wafting over my temple will forever haunt me. “For me, of course,” he says.
I try to bite him. He laughs and pushes my jaw up with the heel of his palm so hard I fear my teeth will crack. He pulls back. I twist my hips and drop my weight, but he just laughs and tugs my pants down.
When he leans down to push my jeans to my ankles, I jerk my knee up, aiming for between his legs, but hit his thigh instead.
He curses and tightens his grip on my face, but I drop my leg and strike again. His hiss of pain is my only warning before he throws me to the ground.
Pain blasts through my hip and head. I can’t breathe, but I need to get away, so I roll onto my stomach and scramble for the door.
His weight pins me to the concrete. I scream and buck. He pulls my head back by my hair and snarls what must be a warning in my ear. Agony lances up my fingers as I scratch at the floor in my desperation to escape.
He wedges his thick forearm under my hips and lifts my ass into the air. I scream and fight as he pulls my panties down my thighs.
The door bursts open and light blinds me for a moment. Nico’s eyes, pitch black in his fury, meet mine. Ralf curses and jumps off me.
I roll fast and hard until my shoulder whacks against the shelves. Sounds of violence ring through my ears. I grab my jeans, but my stiff, uncoordinated hands make pulling them up difficult, and my panties become a frustrating obstacle, but the moment fabric covers my ass, I scramble upright and use the shelves for balance as my head swims.
Afraid to look but needing to see, I glance over my shoulder and find Ralf flat on his back with Nico straddling him. My fiancé lands vicious blow after vicious blow to his unprotected face.
“N-Nico,” I try to call out, but my voice doesn’t work. Bile clogs my throat. My hip throbs. Pain streaks through my head. My vision blips a startling white before the supply closet comes back into focus.
“Nico,” I try again.
The darkness of death lies in his eyes. I let go of the shelves and stumble toward him. He stops with his bloody knuckles raised, pausing as I enter his periphery.
The world shifts. I meet the concrete again.
Hard arms wrap around me and lift me onto an equally hard lap. Warm, sticky blood smears on my face as Nico grabs my cheeks.
“Serenity, look at me.”
His harsh tone echoes through a tunnel. I open my eyes.
“Good girl. Take some deep breaths with me,” he demands.
I match the rise and fall of his shoulders, but a chill sweeps over my body as my mind replays the horrors of the last few minutes, and a surge of energy snaps through me. I grab his collar and scramble upright, pressing my ear over his heart and wrapping my arms and legs around his waist. His shock holds him immobile for a moment, but then his arms wrap around me, and he rests the side of his face against the top of my head, caging me in solid warmth.
I break. Sobs wrench from my chest and tears pour down my face.
“Hush, principessa. I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
Mid-sob, the world goes black, and even as his frantic tone leaks into my dreams, I sink into a pit of tar. There’s no way out. I stop fighting.
Nico is here. I’m safe.
