Hot.
So hot she could hardly breathe.
It felt as though her body was on fire, as if countless tiny needles were burrowing into her skin, sending waves of unbearable heat and shame rippling through her. Her throat was parched, her tongue heavy, and an unrelenting itch coiled deep in her veins.
Then, a sudden, cool sensation brushed against her skin, chasing away the suffocating heat. It came like a wave of relief, yet it was followed by something more unsettling: the overpowering scent of masculine cologne, sharp and invasive, wrapping around her like an unshakable chain.
"No... No!"
Her voice cracked as a fresh surge of agony tore through her body. Pain and heat melded into a torment so fierce it felt like her very soul was fracturing.
And then, as swiftly as it had come, the burning stopped. The room fell silent. She blinked against the dim light, her chest heaving, only to see a small figure curled up in the shadows. A little girl.
The child’s frail body trembled in the corner, her pale skin smeared with blood. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Elena's, brimming with sorrow.
"Mommy, why don’t you want me anymore?" the girl whimpered.
Elena Monroe gasped. "No... Baby!"
Her cry of anguish shattered the silence, jolting her awake.
Elena sat up, her heart racing, her face damp with cold sweat. The room swam around her, shadows dancing along the walls. That nightmare again. Her daughter’s voice echoed in her ears, each syllable cutting deeper into her.
She pressed her palms against her temples, struggling to steady her breathing. But the moment she glanced up, her chest tightened with dread.
A pair of cold, piercing eyes met hers. Predatory, unrelenting: like those of a hawk locking onto its prey.
Elena froze. The man before her was tall, his commanding presence filling the room. Dressed sharply in a black suit, his strikingly handsome face was marred only by the chill in his expression. He stood just behind her, his posture exuding power and arrogance.
Her voice faltered. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
The man’s lips curved into a faint smirk. "Slept with too many men to remember?"
He stepped closer, his shadow looming over her. Instinctively, Elena scrambled off the sofa, putting distance between them. "What kind of twisted nonsense is that? Get out now, or I’ll call the police!"
"Call the police?" His tone was mockingly amused. In a single stride, he closed the gap between them, gripping her chin and lifting her to her feet with startling ease. Before she could react, her back hit the dressing table with a thud.
His voice dropped to a whisper, dangerous and taunting. "Would you report being violated... within marriage?"
Elena’s blood ran cold. The accusation hung in the air, sharp as a blade.
"You're insane!" she hissed, struggling against his iron grip. "I don't even know you!"
The man’s expression darkened, but his smirk remained. "Don’t you?"
One hand pinned her wrists above her head, while the other traced the delicate curve of her jawline. His touch sent a shiver racing through her, both from fear and the unsettling familiarity of it.
"Let go of me!" she demanded, her voice breaking.
Ignoring her protests, his hand moved lower, grazing the edge of her collarbone and sliding along her thigh. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "If I’m not mistaken, there’s a red birthmark on the inside of your left thigh."
Elena’s eyes widened in horror. Her breath hitched as his words struck her like a thunderclap. How did he know that?
"No! Stay away from me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.
Her cry was silenced as his lips captured hers, his kiss forceful and unrelenting. The faint taste of mint invaded her senses, searing into her memory.
In that moment, Elena’s world spun into chaos, caught between terror, confusion, and a question that burned brighter than any nightmare:
Who was this man?
