Angels of Darkness

depended on Lucas for everything: her food, her safety, her clothes, the safety and survival of her daughter. He had the power to tell her when to go to bed, where to sleep, when to shower . . . He was protecting her and Emily from some sort of terrible enemy she couldn’t understand and he could kill them both at a moment’s notice. Any relaxation of the rules became a kindness on his part. A small thing, like a toothbrush, seemed like some great favor. But it wasn’t, she told herself. It wasn’t. It was a basic necessity for any human being.
    Then again, she could’ve been a slave without any freedom at all. She could’ve lost her daughter. She could’ve been raped. All he had to do was say, “I’ll give you your daughter,” and she would’ve done anything. The very fact that he thought to leave her a toothbrush was a small miracle.
    Her own drive to survive was interfering with her sense of reality. Her instincts drove her to forge an emotional bond. The more Lucas liked her, the less likely he was to murder her or Emily. The more she liked him . . .
    Karina took a deep breath. Lucas was physically overwhelming. The memory of his arms around her flashed before her. Lucas was . . . He was . . .
    She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Just say it. Say it, acknowledge it, and walk away from it.
    Seductive. Desirable. Shocking. He was masculine in the way women fantasized men to be: powerful, strong, dangerous. If she had met him at a party or in a professional setting, when he wore a suit and she wore something other than his T-shirt and a pair of underwear she’d washed in the shower, she would’ve sought him out. If he had spoken to her, she would’ve been flattered.
    For a while, after Jonathan’s death, she was so wrapped up in guilt, and in Emily’s well-being, she forgot men existed. It took almost a year before she became aware of them again: a man with a nice smile in the checkout line, a random stranger in good shape stepping out of the car in the parking spot next to her. A small part of her wanted to be noticed again and checked to see if she was. She was vulnerable and the way Lucas looked at her left her no doubt that if she gave him the tiniest indication that she wanted him, he would rush to oblige and mow down whatever stood in his way.
    There was an odd desperation in Lucas under all that violence. Karina sensed a deep overpowering need to be . . . not accepted exactly, but to be liked. If she were ruthless, she would seduce him to make sure he would become dependent on her, but that kind of manipulation was beyond her. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
    Karina looked at her reflection. She could practically see him in the mirror next to her. She could recall him with crystal clarity: every powerful line of his body; the promise of raw violence in the way he moved; the precise curve of his mouth, almost sardonic; the look in his eyes, the wild, unfiltered look of pure male lust. No, more than lust. Need.
    Thinking of him was like playing with fire.
    She had been married; she knew very well that a healthy relationship hinged on respect and constant compromise. With Lucas there could be no respect and no compromise, because they were not equals. He owned her. She was his property and once she opened the door to a relationship, he wouldn’t let her close it.
    Karina shut her eyes. She could picture herself wrapped in those powerful arms. It would feel safe, so safe. Her life was broken like a mirror and the shards kept cutting her fingers. She was desperate to forget that she was little more than a slave. She craved that illusion of safety as if it were a drug and she had to score a hit. She wanted to feel the heat of his strong body warming her skin. And she wanted to see him bend, to find out what it would be like to see the vulnerability of intimacy in those hard eyes. She was completely powerless and she needed to feel powerful, as a woman does who is wanted so badly by a man, he would do anything for her.
    There it was. All of it, out in the open.
    You’re sick , she told her reflection.
    Well, now it was out. She owned all of it.
    She had to keep things in perspective. He was strong and she was weak and vulnerable and not in her right mind. She would take it one day at a time, wait until the last of the poison cleared out of her system, and when a chance to escape presented itself, she would take it—and