Seven

SEVEN

Luke showered while Veronica made breakfast. She was startled when Robert came in the back door. He didn’t appear to have a hangover—a seasoned drinker.

She blushed and turned back to the frying pan. “I didn’t make enough for you. It’s your day off. I t-thought it would only be me and Luke today.”

Luke came downstairs then, wrapped in a towel. He arched a brow.

“I don’t like the plan,” Robert said, aiming his words at the boss. “I don’t want to be the good cop. I want her to come for me.”

Veronica’s breath caught in her throat.

“Let her have breakfast first.”

Her hand shook as she put the food on plates and took them to the table. When she went to get the milk from the refrigerator, Robert eyed the glass jug, and a lascivious smirk lit his face. He hadn’t forgotten the previous night’s conversation. When she glanced over at Luke, his face betrayed nothing. She could still hope he’d forgotten the milking idea and that Robert wouldn’t bring it up. It was too degrading to contemplate. Somehow worse than the branding, even.

“Eat, Ronnie,” Luke said.

It was hard to concentrate on her food with Robert leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to finish so he could have the thing he’d probably lost sleep over, the thing he’d probably jerked off in the shower over. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to be aroused over the idea. There was something so wrong with her. She ate more slowly to prolong her unmolested time.

When her plate was clean, Luke said: “Go to the playroom. Take your clothes off, and be in the position for punishment.”

Her eyes widened. “B-but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Do what I asked. We’ll be up in a minute.”

Veronica bit her tongue to keep from arguing with him and took her dishes to the sink while the men discussed ranch stuff that was far outside her expertise. They were still engrossed in their discussion when she ascended the stairs to the playroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and the men came in. Luke sat on the leather couch, his legs sprawled open in a casual sort of way. Every time he sat like that, she wanted to crawl over to him and perch between his legs, waiting for permission to give him pleasure. She tried to shake that image out of her head and the arousal it brought with it. Robert stood over her, the tension coiled tightly inside him.

“She’s all yours. Do whatever you like with her,” Luke said from across the room.

She tensed when the edge of a riding crop stroked gently across her bare bottom, followed by a sharp snap against her skin that drew a grunt from her.

“I’m not pleased with you,” Robert said.

She wanted to appeal to Luke. Surely he was the only one who had to be pleased with her. After all, it was his initial on her hip. But since he’d given permission, it seemed Robert’s displeasure was his by proxy.

“If you didn’t want to fuck me, you should have said no. Why allow it to happen and not give me your pleasure? You gave it to the others. You withheld with me. Why?”

She remained quiet, unsure if the question was rhetorical and even less sure she could manage a response that wouldn’t just piss him off more.

“Answer him, Ronnie. You need to say it out loud. We both want to hear it.” Luke leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.

“I couldn’t come,” she said, her eyes shut.

Robert circled her, allowing the crop to trail along her exposed flesh as he went. She shuddered each time it moved to a sensitive spot: between her legs, over her ass, across the brand. “At least I got to be there when you were marked.”

Any hesitation the ranch hand might have felt over helping brand her had dissipated completely to leave behind the horny lech who’d go as far as Luke would allow.

“Tell me why you couldn’t come, darlin’.” His voice was low and soothing as if he were trying to calm a spooked mare. But that voice didn’t fool her, she knew the freak that lay behind it.

She was silent for several seconds until the crop came down hard against her ass.

“You better tell him,” Luke said. “He’ll switch to the cane if you don’t. Have you ever been caned, sweetheart?”

She shook her head against the carpet, holding back tears. “No, Sir.”

“I’m told it’s extremely painful. The kind of pain that takes your breath away and makes you want to die until it passes. It would be much easier if you answered the question.”

The crop came down again—harder than the first time—causing her to cry out and grip the edge of the rug. “P-please don’t.”

“Answer! Why couldn’t you come?” Robert asked again. His voice had gone scarier.

“You didn’t make me.”

“Is it the only way you can come? If we make you?”

She cringed at his tone, fearful he’d hit her again. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Roll onto your back.”

Veronica rolled over, her eyes still shut. On her knees with her forehead on the carpet, she’d been able to stay in a space inside herself, in the room but not totally there. On her back, with no way to shield her facial expressions or hide her tears, she felt more exposed before them.

She shivered as the crop gently caressed her face, her neck, down between her breasts, then between her legs.

“Open your eyes, slut.”

When she hesitated, the crop came down over her most private area. She shrieked and her eyes shot open.

“That’s better. Now come for me.”

It was the scene in the bedroom with Luke a few nights ago all over again. Except this time, both of them watched her. She wasn’t sure what it was about this that was harder than anything else she’d endured since she’d come to the ranch.

She turned to Luke, her lower lip trembling. “P-please, Sir...”

“Why are you appealing to me? He’s the one with the crop in his hand.”

“But your brand is on my hip. You’re the one who owns me. You can stop him.”

Luke smirked. “You say it at the most convenient moments.” He stood and crossed to the black toy box then turned the dial on the combination and opened it.

“Stand,” Luke said, as he rummaged through the box.

She struggled to her feet and when he’d found the items he was looking for, he led her to the metal pole that looked like a stripper pole but sturdier and larger. He pressed her back against it and wrapped ropes around her torso, tying them securely around her so she couldn’t get away, but leaving her hands free.

Next he took a long, dark strip of cloth and blindfolded her. “I think you know what’s going to happen, Ronnie. You’re going to masturbate for us, or you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Do you want that?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“The choice between pleasure and pain shouldn’t be such a hard choice, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He pressed a ball gag into her mouth and secured the offending straps around her head. Being blindfolded had been almost a blessing, but being unable to plead with them was a special kind of hell. What if she was really hurt? What if she couldn’t beg for mercy? She believed Luke would come to her aid if things went too far... if she could communicate with him. She heard his footsteps move back across the floor and the sound of leather creaking as he sat, no doubt watching her with smug satisfaction.

“Finger yourself like a good slut,” Robert said, his voice hard and demanding. Gentle Robert was long gone.

Veronica whimpered around the gag, and the crop came down across her thighs causing her to jerk in her bonds. She was surrounded by and immersed in a melting pot of sensations. The soft cloth over her eyes, the wetness of her tears and between her legs, the burning warmth of her skin where the crop had fallen, the scratchy ropes, the cold, hard pole pressed against her back.

“I can switch to the cane if you need more motivation.”

“I think she needs a taste of it before she can know why she wants to avoid it,” Luke said.

Footsteps receded. The toy box opened then shut with an angry snap.

Veronica tensed. She tried to beg, but words wouldn’t form around the small rubber ball in her mouth. There was no way beyond her pathetic, muffled mewls to elicit pity or mercy.

A sharp slice went through the air next to her ear. She would have hit the ground in a panic if not for the ropes holding her in place against the pole. A moment later when the cane sliced the air again, it connected with her upper thigh.

Her breath left her for a minute, taking her ability to scream with it, but the tears came harder, slipping past the barrier of the blindfold. She didn’t have to be asked again. Her hand went between her thighs, rubbing herself as if her life might depend on it—she wasn’t sure with the cane in the mix. She spread her legs and pressed harder against the pole as she worked her clit.

“Use your other hand, too. I want those fingers in your cunt. I want you to feel how wet you are. I want to hear it.”

Robert had moved closer as he spoke. She didn’t hesitate at the new demand. She didn’t care anymore how it looked or that they were watching her. She finger-fucked herself, moaning around the gag while she feverishly rubbed her clit with the fingers of her other hand. Her hips moved, bucking against her own ministrations.

“That’s it,” Robert said. She could practically hear the smirk.

His mouth kissed and suckled at her breast while his large hand closed over the other, rubbing and squeezing. “We are going to milk you like the dirty little cow you are.” She whimpered as he sucked harder, as if he could somehow cause lactation with just dirty talk.

Veronica jerked when she felt something cold, greased, and metal slide into her ass.

“Relax, and open.” It was Luke’s voice next to her ear. Robert continued to play with her breasts while Luke gripped her throat with one hand in a proprietary way as he worked the phallus inside her ass. “We’re going to be using this hole, too, sweetheart.” When she tensed, he said, “I’m just preparing you. It won’t be today.”

For the first time she was glad for the gag. With only whimpers and stifled moans, she didn’t have to come up with useless protests.

Luke gripped her throat tighter, his mouth at her ear. “Come,” he snarled.

She orgasmed around her fingers while the two men continued to stimulate her ass and breasts. When she finished, Luke untied her and carried her to the couch. She heard zippers being unzipped and pants hit the floor. She was positioned so that she straddled one of them. She didn’t even know whose cock she was on until Luke said, “Ride him until you come again.”

Robert helped her raise and lower herself, but finally, growing impatient, he flung her down on the floor and entered her from behind. She whimpered and panted around the gag as another orgasm built. Then Luke ripped the gag off her mouth and shoved his cock past her lips, his hand grabbing her hair, holding her in place as she sucked, half gagging on him.

The second time she came, the tears poured out of her like they would never stop. It was too much sensation to contain and too many confusing emotions. Robert and Luke finished inside her at almost the same moment, as if they’d done this before. They both pulled out, and Luke carried her to the couch, holding her against his chest, petting her hair and rocking her.

“Shhhh,” he said. He took the blindfold from her eyes and wiped the tears from her face. After she’d settled, he said, “Go lie down in your room for awhile. I’ll come get you a little later. Robert and I have some business to discuss.”

Somehow she knew the business was her.

She flushed and looked away from the other man as she crossed the floor and went back to her room. When she’d shut the playroom door, she heard their muffled voices, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t hear anything specific.

Finally, she gave up and crossed the hall back into her own room. She stood for a long time in front of the antique mirror, running her fingers over the welts on her thighs and bottom. Then she got under the covers and tried to relax.

* * *

“Wake up, Princess.”

Veronica scrambled to sit. She couldn’t believe she’d dosed off. She’d only meant to rest and recharge, trying not to think about her morning, or the internal struggle that had accompanied it.

Luke sat beside her, stroking her hair back from her face. “Let me look at your welts and check on your brand.”

She pulled back the covers, finally past the point of shyness over him seeing her naked. He’d behaved so much as if it were his natural right, that she was beginning to forget it wasn’t. She’d almost started to believe that it was—that the permanent mark he’d burned into her hip had caused her to forever forfeit all rights over her own body. It was as if, along with killing nerve endings, the brand had killed a few brain cells, the ones that might be in charge of charming notions like independence and gender equality.

He ran his fingertips over the welts. “Are they sore?”

“A little.” But not as much as the brand. He rolled her over to inspect that next.

He pulled a syringe from a bag, and she struggled to get away. He pressed her down, pushing against her back so she couldn’t squirm out of his hold.

“W-what is that?” A million horrible possibilities entered her mind. One of them seemed completely insane. Why would he get her hooked on drugs? But then why would he do anything else he’d done? Because he could. He was already living on the wrong side of the sanity tracks.

“Hormones. We talked about this.”

No, they hadn’t talked about it. He’d talked about it with his snickering band of ranch apes while she’d been hoping it was just the alcohol talking. Apparently not. Once Robert had brought up the idea and Will had given personal experience, it was a done deal. The men must have been discussing hormone shots in the playroom.

“I-I don’t like needles.”

“Then you won’t like this. Be still or I’ll tie you down for it.”

“P-please Sir, don’t...” Her voice closed off as if she were afraid to give more than a token protest. Pre-kidnapped Ronnie would be so disappointed.

He lifted her chin and captured her gaze in his. “Be a good girl, Ronnie. It’s our day off. I’ll take you for some ice cream if you’re good for me.”

The condescension in his words didn’t matter. The prospect of leaving the house was too novel and exciting. Veronica buried her face against the pillow, unable to look at the sharp needle as it came closer to her hip—thankfully the one that wasn’t sore already from the brand.

She dug her fingers into the pillow at the sharp burn and sting as he delivered the hormones, the pain warring with the humiliation of what he was preparing her body to do for him.

He stroked her flank when he was finished. “There, now that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“N-no, Sir,” she said, afraid of what result any other answer might bring.

He rolled her onto her back then to play with her nipples. He had to know the hormones wouldn’t work that fast. It wasn’t a magic potion. It seemed more likely it would take weeks or even months, but maybe he was establishing a ritual between them. He pulled on her nipples, rubbing them between his fingers, then he sucked on each one for several minutes while he massaged the sides of her breasts with his large, rough hands. Despite his ultimate purpose in all of this, her hips arched up, begging for attention below her waist.

Luke pulled away. “You’re going to give me milk like a good little animal, aren’t you?” She closed her eyes against his scrutiny. He stroked the side of her cheek. “I’m going to condition you to want to give me what I want. By the time your body is ready, the idea will arouse you so much, you’ll happily let me milk you every day.”

Maybe a part of her sick, twisted mind already wanted to. After all, she’d been wet the night before at the party when the topic had first been broached, and she was sure she was wet again now. As if reading her thoughts, his big hand moved between her legs, rubbing against her opening, a broad smile on his face.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

He returned with a vibrator and shoved it inside her. Then he went back to his goal of training her body to give him milk. As he suckled on her breasts and rubbed and stroked them, the buzz of the vibrator worked its magic and made her come again.

* * *

After Luke finished with her,he allowed Veronica to shower and get dressed again. After sex with the two men, she needed to clean up. She picked a sky-blue cotton dress that fell just below her knees and briefly hated herself for wondering if the choice would please him.

When she descended the stairs, Luke was wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots—which she’d learned they just called boots—a T-shirt, and a cowboy hat—which going with the pattern, he probably just called a hat.

“What about my shoes?” With shoes she could run. She tried not to let the hope show on her face. Although she found herself deeply aroused by the things Luke and the ranch hands did to her, she couldn’t stop trying to get away. She didn’t know what she’d do once she escaped. She couldn’t think that far. If she let herself think that far, she’d have to deal with the hopelessness of her life. The debt, the dwindling bank account, the fear. But Luke could still do anything to her. She needed to remember that.

“You won’t need them, it’s a drive-up place. We’re staying in the truck.”

So much for that. She tried not to look too disappointed.

“Come here.”

When she came closer, he pulled her onto the couch with him and snapped a metal cuff around her ankle.

“What’s this?”

“Insurance,” he said.

She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but she didn’t think she liked the glint in his eye. He released her then. She’d gotten only a few steps to the door when an electric zap shot up her body. She crumpled to the ground, shrieking so loudly she could barely believe the noise had come from her own mouth. She convulsed a few more times, then lay still, disoriented and terrified.

Yes, Luke could do anything.

He stood over her, a small remote in his hand. “If you try to signal for help in any way, I will push the button, and I won’t push it just once.” The shock cuff made even the idea of branding seem like child’s play.

She cringed when he helped her to her feet. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“So, you aren’t still planning your escape? It’s only been a few days. As much as you rant about how you don’t need a man, I figured you’d still be plotting and waiting for your opportunity.”

Veronica looked at the ground, giving him all the information he needed.

“If I thought I could trust you, I wouldn’t need it. I’m not going to prison for rescuing you.”

No, he’d go to prison for forced labor, false imprisonment, rape, and battery. The next to the last charge she wasn’t sure she believed. In spite of everything, she wanted his hands on her, his cock between her legs—or in her mouth. She didn’t want to be caned or whipped or electrocuted or given injections every day, but the rest...

They didn’t speak on the way to the truck. He opened the door and helped her into the passenger side, and this time she didn’t have a smart retort for him about her ability to open her own doors. She was just glad there was a part of him that could be nice to her. When she was strapped in, he slid his hand up her thigh and smiled when he didn’t find panties. She still couldn’t understand why she’d made that choice today.

“You’re learning,” he said. He pulled her dress back down and got in on the other side.

During the drive to the ice cream place, she eyed the remote. It peeked out from his shirt pocket, appearing nondescript and innocent.

“When we get back home, are you going to take the cuff off?” She held her breath, waiting for his response, hoping he wouldn’t leave it there with the option to electrocute her anytime he wanted.

“Of course. I don’t like using it. It’s a bit cruel.” At least he knew that. At least he had a line in the sand somewhere that he’d prefer not to cross too often. “I just don’t want to go to prison. You understand that, don’t you, princess?” He brushed a stray hair behind her ear, then turned his focus back to the road.

“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t dare bring up the point that he wouldn’t have to fear prison if he hadn’t kidnapped her, and even then he wouldn’t have needed to fear it very much if he hadn’t ordered her around, prevented her from leaving, and... all the rest.

The trees passed by them in a blurred strip of green as they drove down back road after back road. She stared out the window. “You wouldn’t have to worry about me trying to escape if I wasn’t so afraid of you. I-I mean, I don’t hate the ranch completely.” She chanced a glance over to find a grin inching up his cheek, but his eyes were on the road. Smug, self-satisfied bastard.

It was hard to hate the ranch with the animals and the garden and open sky, and his nice house and good food. It was hard to hate sexual pleasure. It was hard to hate the little comforts he gifted her with even while he demanded so much from her.

A hand came to rest on her knee, pushing back the edges of the skirt to stroke her leg. “I told you the first week or so would be the hardest. You’ll settle in. You’ve already softened so much toward me. I don’t think you realize how much. You don’t complain about your chores anymore. When I come near you, you lean into my touch more times than you pull away. And your body is so soft and yielding.”

Her face heated at his words. She wanted to yell and fight, but the remote in his pocket made it safer to remain silent. Pretend that’s why, Ronnie. It was easier to tell herself that the stifling of her rebellion was because she was afraid he’d push the button, or because a man who would brand you like cattle even while you begged him not to might do anything.

His hand moved from her thigh, and then his fingers threaded through hers. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her skin.

“I take care of what’s mine, princess.”

Somehow the derisive pet name had turned into an actual term of endearment over the course of the past few days. She tried not to respond to his lips against her hand or the words as they rumbled over her, but the fight was pointless. If he’d stopped the truck and taken her in a field somewhere, she’d be up for it. She’d be wet and pliable and yielding. She’d surrender to him out in some wheat field like a rutting animal. Veronica pressed her thighs together, trying to soothe the ache between them.

If he was so sure she was his, he wouldn’t have put a shock cuff around her ankle. If he wasn’t sure, then maybe she wasn’t his yet. Maybe she was still hers.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to an old-fashioned drive-up restaurant that seemed to specialize in ice creams and milkshakes. A teenaged guy came up to the window as Luke rolled it down. “I just want a chocolate milkshake. And what do you want, sweetheart?”

“The same,” she said, not wanting to have to pick from the menu while her heart was fluttering in her chest so hard it made it difficult to think. Part of it was the sweet way he spoke to her in front of the teenager, like they were a couple on a normal Sunday afternoon jaunt. Part of it was over the introduction of a stranger who might help her if only he thought she needed it. And then part of it was the fear of Luke’s wrath coming down if she tried anything, angrily pressing that button until she went unconscious while he peeled rubber to get out of there.

He squeezed her knee while the guy went to get their shakes. “You could have had anything off the menu,” he said, still sounding like a boyfriend—doing funny things to her brain and heart.

“Nobody can screw up a chocolate shake,” she said, feeling awkward and weird like she was on a first date. Some insane part of her brain decided she was. But it wasn’t the kind of first date young girls giggled and daydreamed about.

The guy came back a few minutes later with their shakes, and Luke paid him then started the truck. She didn’t want to go back to the house yet. Even with the fresh air and people around her and plenty of chores to keep her busy, she missed being out.

“Are we going back home now?” Why had she called it home? If the look on his face could be trusted, Luke had caught the slip as well.

“Not just yet. I want to show you something first.” They drove for a long time in silence until he pulled onto a dirt road with a state park sign. They went down the road for a few more miles until they came upon a large lake.

For an insane minute she thought he was going to drown her. Maybe he worried the boy at the drive-in restaurant had been suspicious, and she’d proven too great a liability. She was about to beg and plead her case when he spoke.

“Don’t look so spooked. The weather’s about to get too cool for this. No one’s around. Let’s skinny dip while it’s still warm enough to enjoy it. He took a key from his pocket and bent to undo the cuff around her ankle, then he came around to the other side of the truck to let her out, peeling his clothes off along the way.

She tried not to drool over his physique, but every time she looked at him naked or half-naked, something low inside her responded in a primal sort of way she couldn’t deny. It was the kind of way that knew nothing of cell phones or television or takeout or society. That part of her wanted things to be simple in the way they weren’t in the city. The ranch was hard and at times scary, but it was simple. She’d yet to even see the computer he’d promised to show her. For all she knew it was just a laptop locked up in his safe. It seemed most likely at this point.

Veronica didn’t resist when he pulled her dress off and let it fall into the pile of clothing he’d created.

Her teeth chattered when they got into the water. Luke’s eyes went straight to her breasts as her nipples became hardened points.

“Give it a minute, you’ll get used to it,” he said, trailing his fingers over her breasts and moving in to kiss the side of her neck. It seemed to be Luke’s mantra about everything. If something was uncomfortable, she’d get used to it. This was the only way the female of the species ever could have survived... by getting used to everything.

He swam out a little way, and she followed him. When they were far from the shore, he said, “If you didn’t trust me, you would have gone for the shore and the keys in the truck, not followed me out here. Do you know how at my mercy you are right now?”

Her blood ran colder than the water, but she forced herself to hold onto her bravery. “I’ve been at your mercy since you took me.”

“Good answer. Now tell me you trust me.”

Veronica balked at the request. Of all the things he could have asked her for—all the dirty and degrading things—it was this thing, this small verbal acknowledgment that she couldn’t give him. It felt like losing everything—like selling her soul.

He raised an eyebrow and waited. “I haven’t drowned you, yet. We’re alone in the middle of nowhere. It would be easy. How long do you think it would take them to find you? From what you told me that first night, nobody would be looking. It could be years. Certainly long enough for that brand to decompose off your body. And then what link would there be to me?”

She started to swim at a feverish pace toward the shore, desperate to get away, to lock him out of his truck and just drive forever.

He easily caught up with her in a few short strokes. It was obvious he swam a lot when he could get away from the ranch. “Tell me.”

“Tell me you trust me,” she countered. He clearly didn’t. Men and their double standards.

“That’s different. You could send me to prison.”

“You could take my life. You just got finished laying it out point by point. The stakes are bigger for me.”

He nodded. “All right.” He moved them closer to the edge where he could stand, but she couldn’t yet. Before she could get much of a breath to hold, he pushed her under.

In the first few seconds, she panicked, thinking he’d finally crossed the last line. Maybe the story he’d just painted sounded safer. Dimly in the back of her mind, she didn’t think he’d drown her. She believed he was only screwing with her, trying to scare her and intimidate her into obeying his earlier request. But what if she was wrong? He’d already shown edges of crazy with the episode a few nights ago when he’d called her by the name of his former lover.

In a moment of self-protective madness, Veronica reached between his legs and started stroking his cock. Pleasuring him was the only currency she had to work with. A part of her recoiled at the act, especially under the circumstances as she struggled to hold her breath. His hand loosened on her shoulder and she came up, gasping for air. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue in her mouth.

He pulled away. “Don’t stop touching me.”

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind; she was too desperate to keep him happy so he wouldn’t push her under again.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

Veronica shook her head, her eyes widening. “Please, Luke, don’t push me under again.”

“What did you call me?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” How could she be expected to remember titles when he was scaring her like this?

“Tell me you trust me and mean it.”

“I can’t.”

“Take a deep breath, then.”

She wanted to lie to him and give him the words he wanted, but he’d know she was lying. She took a breath and he pushed her under the water again. She stroked his cock with one hand, while she played with his balls with the other, still hoping she was reaching him and he saw the value of keeping her alive, while privately she fantasized about murdering him. This moment was perhaps the most degrading, while he held her life so precariously in his hands and she pleasured him to appease him—to keep breathing.

A few moments later, he came and pulled her back up. She took in gulps of air.

“If I wanted you dead, it would be so simple. Tell me you trust me or we’ll do this until the sun sets.”

“You can’t force someone to trust you!” she shouted. Her survival instinct had fled in the wake of her anger. Let the fucker kill her. What difference did it make at this point? She was his slave. No better than one of his animals. He’d slaughter her the second her continued existence became inconvenient for him. Fuck him and every man on that ranch.

“Then just say the words. Tell me you trust me not to harm you.”

Why did he need to hear it so much? Had Trish trusted him? Was it part of the charade of her being his dead lover? If Veronica said it, they could leave, maybe. Despite her anger, despite being at the end of her rope, she didn’t want to go under again, and with him spent, she had nothing else to barter with.

“I trust you not to harm me, Sir.”

“And eventually, you’ll mean it.”

She thought he was going to push her under again, but he helped her out of the lake, instead. He took a blanket from the truck and wrapped her up in it until she was dry, then slipped her dress back on over her head and helped her into the truck. He locked the cuff back around her ankle and then put his own clothes back on.

She was crying, trying to wipe the tears away before he could see them when he got back in the truck.

“I didn’t hurt you out there.” There was the slightest note of regret and guilt in his voice. If he thought he could rationalize now and make her believe it, too... he really had lost his mind past the point of return. The thought made her even more afraid.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she said, her tone bitter. “I get it. You’re all powerful. You can stop lording it over me. You know I’ll do whatever you want to stay alive.”

He started the truck and eased it down the dirt road. “I want everything, Ronnie. Not just your body. I want your soul, your every thought and desire. I want it all. By the time I’m finished, you’ll give it to me.”

“Or you’ll drown me?”

He pulled the remote out and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to use this on you.”

She shut her mouth and looked down at her hands. If he didn’t want to use it, it was a simple matter of just not using it, but she didn’t dare give that thought voice.

They drove in silence for a while and he finally said, “You’re so like her. Just be her, please. Be Trish.” His voice cracked.

This time the glimpse of vulnerability didn’t make him seem as crazy and unhinged, just sad. So terribly sad. And broken. She wondered if he fully comprehended how wrong his actions were, or if he was just so desperate to bring back a ghost that he couldn’t see anything else but Trish. Veronica was a casualty in his quest to work magic to transform her into another woman, and he didn’t seem capable of understanding what he was doing.

Sympathy and hate warred within her. She wanted to escape him, but at the same time, it hurt her that when he looked at her, he saw another woman sitting there. What would it be like for him to look at her and see her? To want her instead of a passing specter? Instead of the phantom that sat in the sixth chair at the table for their morning and afternoon meals.

“Would you have taken me if I didn’t look like her?”

“No,” he said. There was a conviction in his voice that she couldn’t deny. At the very least, he believed it.

The admission only made her more confused. In a sense he had rescued her. In her thoughts of escape and freedom, she’d tried not to think about what she’d be going back to. If he hadn’t taken her where would she be by now? In a soup kitchen line? Sleeping under a bridge if she didn’t make it to the shelter in time, or if they were too full? What about when winter came? The only thing that had put her in a warm bed with food in her belly was her resemblance to Luke’s former lover. He couldn’t have victimized her otherwise, but he wouldn’t have saved her.

They stopped at a four-way stop sign and he turned to her, his eyes so dark and intense she wanted to find a way to hide under the seat or just disappear for a few minutes.

“I’m not kidding, Veronica. You will be her. Or else. You’ll make me forget you aren’t her. I’m not going back to before I found you. You will love me and obey me and submit to me, and you’ll do it with that look of adoration Trish used to give me or I’ll never stop making you regret wearing her face.” His voice had risen as he became more intense. “Am I getting through, here?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I’ll be her. I swear. I’ll do whatever you want.” Just don’t be crazy. Please don’t be crazy. I need something safe to hold onto.

A Sheriff’s deputy pulled up at one of the other stop signs and for a moment both Luke and Veronica froze. The wheels spun in her head. If she could get the cop’s attention as they passed ...

“Do it and you might not survive to tell your story. How much of this do you think you can take?” She looked over to see the remote in his hand. The look in his eyes said that whatever brief moments of guilt or regret he felt, he’d do whatever he had to do. “Eyes on me.”

Hesitantly, she looked at him. Then Luke stepped on the gas and lurched past the police officer. When they’d passed, she turned in her seat to see the cop go in the opposite direction down the road they’d been on—toward the lake. She wondered if the lake was his destination. Maybe he’d just gotten off work for the day and wanted to fish or swim. What if their timing had been just a little different? What if he’d discovered them in the water?

“Do you think he’s going to the lake?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What if he’d caught you while I was underwater? Would you have killed me even though it wasn’t my fault?”

His only answer was silence. Finally he said, “Going out was a bad idea.”