Free Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3 by Trisha Wolfe Page B

vase theory. He knocks her hard enough to take control, then he ties her up and forces her into the bedroom.”
    “He carried her.” Quinn doesn’t wait for an assent from me; he swoops down and scoops me into his arms. He first traces our steps back to the doorway, then reenacts taking me as far as the foot of the bed, where he places me on my feet.
    Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he says, “Now struggle. Fight back. This vic obviously wasn’t as easy going as the first. She didn’t buy into his coercion.”
    Panic slithers over me, but I clamp my eyes shut, jaw tight, regulating my breathing. Everything inside me wants to wilt, disappear. Quinn’s touch is scalding against my flesh.
    “Sadie?” His voice is laced with concern, and that pulls me out of the darkness.
    I take in a deep breath. Open my eyes. “He’d have a weapon,” I say. “Something big and scary. I’m still waiting on a sketch from Avery, but if it’s the same guy, I’m thinking his weapon is part of his ritual.”
    “Right.” Quinn angles one arm out and brings his hand to my neck. A wave of fear crashes over me, but I keep reminding myself this is the job. I’m not there—I’m not his anymore. And then I’m not acting; I’m wriggling and twisting, trying to break free of his hold.
    “There’s no blood in this room,” Quinn grunts out around my struggle. “So the vic somehow knocked the weapon from his hand.”
    I take the lead and mimic throwing my head back, connecting my crown to his chin. “But she’s taller than me. And depending on his size, she may have struck his head. Then—” I jam my elbow into his ribs, and Quinn’s hand drops from my throat.
    “Good,” he says. “Now I’m furious. What’s my next move?”
    A narcissistic sadist being stripped of his power… “He has to gain control over her. Take his power back. Relieved of his weapon, he’d use psychological torture. He needs her to suffer…” My throat thickens, cutting off my words. Dread claws at my reasoning. “He needs to humiliate her…take her off guard.”
    I can feel Quinn’s hesitation in his stiff posture, the tension straining his muscles. Then, with too much caution the UNSUB would never possess, Quinn wraps his arm tighter around my neck and flattens his other hand against my stomach.
    “He would only sexually degrade her after he felt weak,” Quinn says, his voice low and testing. Sliding his palm slowly downward, his fingers splay over my hip, then begin to inch the tight material of my dress up.
    The shock of cold air hitting my skin sends a buzz to my head, the room bleeding away at the corners. As his hand roams lower, inching my thighs apart, my breathing intensifies. I can feel his own labored breaths against my neck, his thick want along the crease of my backside.
    And when his skin connects with mine—palm to thigh; flesh to flesh—warmth pools liquid-hot between my legs. His coarse fingertips skim the seam of my underwear, and a fierce ache blooms deep in my core.
    He releases a strangled groan, and with noticeable effort, forces his hand lower to grasp my leg. “She had bruises on her knees.” The sound of his rough voice scrapes over me, the restraint in it tangible. It pulls me out of the swirling haze sucking me under.
    My chest rising with my quick intake of air, I nod once. “Buckle my knees,” I order.
    He does, pressing his knees into the backs of mine, and guides me to the hardwood floor. His arm leaves my neck and he sinks his fingers into my hair, loosely gripping at my scalp. “Go with my movements,” he instructs. And I can tell he’s trying hard not to hurt me…but I’m so lost in the moment, so torn, all I want is for him to yank my head back and dig his teeth into my flesh.
    But I follow him. As he pushes my head down, I understand what he’s envisioning. The first crime scene—the vic’s position. My forehead rests easily on the floor, and I turn my head sideways. That’s when I see