HIS SALVATION

Chapter 3

"The most beautiful stories, always start with wreckage."

~ Jack London ~

***

A finger drags along her spine, stopping at the end of her back. It would be teasing, flirty, and sensual if it were any other situation, any other man, and if his touch was wanted. But it's not.

It's threatening and violating. 

And when his fingers leave her body and his hand smacks and grab her ass in a painful grip, it makes her skin crawls, and the urge to wash away his scent and his touch almost causes her knees to buckle.

More frighteningly, when she feels a sting on her left shoulder, and she whips her head, her eyes catching his pleased and cruel smile, and the tiny syringe in his hand... she knows he's just getting started.

It hits her immediately. She doesn't even get a chance to step away before her legs start to shake, and his arm wraps around her waist, keeping her upright. And she wants to scream at the unfairness of it all.

A small part of her mind is still working enough to know that his presence here is a coincidence.

          A fucking shitty one!

This knowledge comes with the realization that if he hadn't found her, he would have sought another prey for the night. Salem tries to find comfort in the fact that he is not going to hurt one of the girls dancing around her. Comfort in the fact that this coincidence will save someone else from the pain she already knows and wouldn't wish on anyone...even if it could save her.

Salem can't feel her legs, her mouth feels numb, and she's struggling to organize her thoughts, desperately trying to fight against the man rubbing his crotch against her ass. Shivering at his dark chuckle, she pushes against the fog in her mind and tries to escape his grip. 

It's pointless. 

She can't even scream; every part of her feels paralyzed and numb. She can barely manage to protest and shake her head.

          Move, why can't you move...

His lips brush against her ear, "I really like you silent, Salem... You always were...Daddy didn't know what kind of use his lessons could have, uh? I should thank him really...although I know, he had his own kind of fun with you."

          Lukas, oh god, please...MOVE SALEM!

Her eyes sweep the room, trying to catch her best friend's gaze, but Lukas isn't around, and she realizes, with panic, that the monster has already started dragging her away. At this point, she would be content with anyone's gaze, but no one seems to notice the petite young woman, being pulled by a 40-year-old man, his fist wrapped in her long brown curls to keep her in place. No one catches the despair in her eyes as the pathetic excuse of a man pushes her through the back entrance, pulling her along a dark alley.

          It's not supposed to happen. It can't happen. Not again.