Elena’s head snapped back, her ears ringing from the force of the blows.
She stared up at him, fear turning to raw terror when she looked into his eyes—his crazy mad eyes. He was going to rape her, here and now, she thought. And then he was going to kill her.
“My baby . . . please . . . don’t . . .”
“Shut up!” Grabbing the cuffs of her maternity jeans, he jerked her pants down over her hips, leaving them bunched around her ankles. Her panties followed.
She was sobbing now, alarm for her unborn baby clawing at her mind as Dinescu shoved her down on the floor. Her bound hands dug into her back, but she was hardly aware of the discomfort. She rolled onto her side in a vain effort to crawl away, but it was impossible with her hands tied. Impossible because there was nowhere to go.
She cried out when his fist slammed into her side and then he was flipping her onto her back again, his lips pulled back in a leer. He hit her again, his enjoyment plain on his face as she screamed.
He was going to rape her. I will have you. His threat, issued not long ago, echoed in the back of her mind. Whatever he did, she had to endure it, she thought, had to survive for the sake of her baby. And even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew the baby would likely die from her uncle’s brutal assault. If that happened . . . She thrust the thought from her mind. She had to survive, for her baby. For Drake.
She squeezed her eyes shut when Dinescu shrugged out of the bulky coat and began unfastening his trousers.
This couldn’t be happening, she thought desperately. It had to be a nightmare. She would wake up soon to find Drake beside her.
She cried out when her uncle lowered his bulk over her. Please, she prayed fervently, please spare my baby.
Tears leaked from her eyes as her uncle’s hands moved over her, his touch repulsive, each stroke making her feel dirty, defiled.
She tried to dislodge him, tried to avoid his slobbery kisses, but he was too heavy, too determined, and with her hands tied behind her back, she was helpless. His foul breath made her sick to her stomach, his touch revolted her. Hot, bitter bile burned the back of her throat, and spewed between her lips when his mouth covered hers.
With a harsh cry of dismay, Dinescu reeled back.
Elena turned her head to the side, gasping for breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dinescu raise his fists to strike her again. Abandoning all hope, she closed her eyes and prayed for mercy.
But the blow didn’t fall.
She heard a hoarse cry, a sharp crack, like a bone breaking. Curious, she opened her eyes a little, squinting to see what was happening.
Relief washed through her when she saw Drake. He was here. She was safe. A flood of tears released the tension in her body as he reached for her.
“He will never hurt you again,” Drake said, lifting her to her feet, gathering her in his arms. “On my life, I swear no one will ever hurt you again.” He quickly untied her hands. Swinging her into his arms, he held her close. Keeping her face turned away from the body sprawled on the floor, he carried her out of the shed, then transported them into the castle. He would go back later to dispose of the body.
He kept a tight rein on his anger as he gently lowered Elena onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, covered her with the afghan, then started a fire in the hearth. He stood there a moment, gazing into the flames, his hands clenched at his sides. Dinescu would never know how lucky he had been, Drake thought. If not for his concern over Elena and what she might think if she knew what he was capable of, he would have torn the man limb from limb and taken pleasure in his anguished screams.
“Drake?”
Wiping his face clean of emotion, he turned to look at her, his gut twisting at the sight of her face, swollen and black-and-blue where Dinescu had hit her. “Do you need something? Aspirin? A cool cloth? Something to drink?”
She shook her head. “How did you find me?”
“I woke up and knew you were gone. I could sense your fear. I followed it to where you were.”
“But it’s daytime.”
“I was never outside.” He had transported himself from the castle to the shed. But he would have come after her even if he’d had to cross a desert at midday to find her. Would have walked through the hottest fires of hell itself to bring her home. Kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa, he took her hands in his. “Are you all right?”
“I think so. The baby . . .”
Eyes narrowed in concentration, he pressed one hand over her womb.
“Is she . . . ?” Elena bit down on her lower lip.
“All is well. Her heartbeat is strong and steady.”
Fresh tears welled in Elena’s eyes. “If you hadn’t come in time . . . if . . .” Her tears turned to sobs as the full horror of what had happened, what could have happened, set in.
Sitting on the sofa, Drake gathered her into his arms, blanket and all, and rocked her back and forth. “It is over,” he said, his voice low, soothing. “He is dead. Our daughter is unharmed.” He spoke the last words, hoping they were true.
Elena nodded, her body trembling uncontrollably.
“Elena, beloved, look at me.”
Capturing her gaze with his, he spoke to her mind, his voice quietly calming her as he assured her that he loved her, that she was safe, until she fell asleep in his arms.
Elena awoke with a groan. Her body ached, her face felt swollen where Dinescu had hit her, but those weren’t the pains that had roused her from sleep. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Was she having contractions? A gasp of alarm speared through her. It was too soon for the baby to come.
“Elena?” Awakened by the sharp intake of her breath, Drake sat up.
“The baby, I think she’s coming.”
He glanced at the hearth, igniting a fire to warm her.
“Drake!” She clutched at his hand. “It’s too soon.”
He swore softly. Had the trauma she’d experienced at her uncle’s hands caused this?
She bent over, her arms wrapped around her middle. “You need a doctor,” he said. And the best one he knew was one of the drones at the Fortress. A look smothered the fire in the hearth.
Gathering Elena into his arms, he kissed her cheek, then transported the two of them to his apartment at the Fortress. After tucking her into bed, he opened his senses, then summoned the doctor to his room.
The drone, known as Doctor Samuels, arrived moments later, medical bag in hand. A word released the drone from the thrall that bound him.
“My wife appears to be in labor,” Drake said, gesturing toward Elena. “See to her.”