Colby Conspiracy

Harsh fingers dug into her forearm and hauled her inside.

Before she had a chance to react to the stab of fear a lethal masculine voice demanded, “Where have you been?”

Even in the dark, even with her heart pounding like a drum, Tasha recognized that voice—felt the malice in it penetrate all the way to the very depths of her soul.

Seth.

“Jim.” She reached through the darkness, tried to touch him. What could have brought about this relapse? Something had to have happened to—

He slammed her against the wall. “I said,” he snarled, “where the hell have you been?”

Tasha’s body started to quake. She struggled to steel herself against the fear and worry running rampant inside her. “I’ve been to dinner,” she said calmly. “You knew—”

“So you just take off?”

His face was pressed so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, could smell the liquor. Jim never drank, not anymore. The doctors had warned it might destabilize his condition.

Renewed fear raced through her veins. One doctor in particular had warned that Jim was still vulnerable, that a break from reality could occur unless strict precautions were taken to insulate him from the slightest stress. But he had been okay for months. He was well…happy…he was Jim, the man she loved.

The baby. Oh, God. Hurt knotted inside her. Please, God, not now. Don’t let him regress. Her thoughts whirled frantically, futilely. There had to be something she could do to stop this…to bring him back…

“Jim, please, tell me what’s happened?” She hated the quiver in her voice, the desperation. He’d been through too much already. It just wasn’t fair for him to spiral back into that abyss all over again. Not now, after he’d come so very far.

“Shut up and take off your clothes,” he commanded savagely. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tasha froze, considered her options. Did she play along and hope he snapped out of whatever the hell this was, or did she fight back? Not now. Not knowing that she was pregnant.

“Jim, let me call your doctor,” she pleaded, praying she would somehow get through to him.

“Stop calling me that,” he warned, his muscular body pinning her to the wall. “Little Jimmy died a long time ago,” he taunted cruelly. “Now stop stalling.”

He wanted sex. Okay, she could play along. Surely he would snap out of this.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she reached toward the top button of her blouse. Her fingers shook before she could stem the reaction.

“You’re too slow,” he growled, then ripped open her blouse.

She bit down on her lower lip to hold back a gasp.

“Hmmm,” he breathed. “You smell so sweet.” He licked a trail down her throat and across her shoulder. She shivered, couldn’t help herself. “You like that?” He breathed the words on her damp skin.

“Please, Jim, let’s just talk,” she begged, suddenly fearing that he would take this too far… Damn, she didn’t know what to expect.

But she had to protect the baby.

His hand closed brutally over her breast and Tasha knew exactly what she had to do.

She went limp in his arms, surrendered completely. His full attention was focused on the breast he’d revealed. His mouth landed there and she made a sound of encouragement. As he kissed his way back up to her throat she rammed her fist into his unsuspecting gut.

He staggered back, doubled over.

Acting on pure instinct now, she landed a kick to the side of his head, forcing him to the floor. Then she made a run for it.

At the same instant that her fingers curled around the doorknob, his manacled around her ankle, closing like a vise.

She screamed, grabbed at the door even as he pulled her away from it.

He was too fast, too strong.

He yanked hard. She fell forward onto the hardwood floor. As he dragged her to him she kicked hard with her free leg and landed a blow to his jaw.

He swore and flung his full weight down on top of her. She grunted at the impact. His right hand clamped around her throat.

“Don’t move,” he growled between clenched teeth.

Tasha stilled. Her breath raged in and out of her lungs, barely hissing past the hold he had on her throat. Part of her screamed inside, urged her to keep fighting, but another part feared for the baby. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him any further. He was too strong.

His fingers all but cut off her airway. He used his right hand to shove her skirt up her thighs. Then he spread her legs and burrowed his way fully between them. His mouth came down on top of hers hard.

She felt him wrench open his jeans. Felt his thick sex spring free and prod against her panties. She closed her eyes and tried to lie still, told herself it would be better this way. Don’t give him any reason to hurt you.

He tore away her panties and shoved into her in one brutal plunge.

She caught her breath, winced against the pleasure of feeling the man she loved inside her and at the same time fearing the demon driving him.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said silkily, tauntingly. He flexed his hips, driving deeper. He kissed her lips, then her jaw. She shivered, afraid to guess what he might do next.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pretend that this was only a nightmare. It couldn’t be real…couldn’t be happening. Not now. Tears seeped past her tightly clenched lids, but she couldn’t hope to stop them.

His lips encountered those salty tears and he stilled.

He drew back from her then and though she couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, she felt the change in his body—the sudden, jagged turn his respiration had taken, the slight tremble of his hands as his grip loosened.

“Oh, God.” The words tore out of his throat on a wounded moan of agony.

He scrambled off her, pulled her onto his lap. “What’ve I done?” He ran his hands over her purposefully, hurriedly, as if searching for injury. “Did I hurt you? God, please tell me I didn’t hurt you, Tasha.”

“I’m all right,” she managed to say, pushing past the emotion lodged in her throat. “I’m okay.”

He cradled her in his arms for a long while. Tasha couldn’t say how long. He kept telling her over and over how sorry he was. How he hadn’t meant to hurt her. And then he carried her to the bathroom and bathed her gently in the deep claw-footed tub. He smoothed the washcloth over her skin lovingly in an attempt to soothe the hurt.

Tasha watched him, her heart too damaged to question the sudden reversal. But her eyes saw clearly the price he’d paid for the lapse.

She only knew that he was behaving like Jim now. Inside, she cried, both thankful and scared out of her mind. Because no matter what her eyes saw, no matter what her ears told her as the man she loved attended to her needs, begged for her forgiveness, nothing he did or said would change the cold, hard truth.

Seth was back.

CHAPTER FIVE