Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Go on,” again.
“Henry played the long game and he did it really well,” Abbey admitted. “I thought he really cared about me and he never tried anything but a few kisses. But that was mostly because Aunt Rose was around all the time. He waited…” She took a deep, trembling breath. “He waited until she was gone to a Florist Convention to make his move.”
Solon’s hand tightened on hers again, squeezing convulsively and Abbey got the idea that he was dreading hearing the rest, though she didn’t know where that idea came from.
“What did he do?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
“He got me alone in the house—thank goodness I was in my own home and I knew where everything was—and then he tried to…to rape me.”
Abbey had to force the words out.
“The thing was, if he’d been gentle and taken things slow, I would have…would have given him anything he wanted,” she went on. “I wanted him. He made me feel pretty—desired. I hadn’t felt that in so long. And he made me believe he really cared—he spent months earning my trust.”
“So he waited until he had you alone and attacked you?” Solon asked and Abbey thought she heard an angry growl in his deep voice.
She nodded.
“He just started ripping off my clothes and…and forcing my legs apart. He called me ‘little blind girl’ and laughed when he told me all the horrible things he was going to do to me!”
His hand tightened on hers again, almost painfully this time.
“That son-of-a bitch!”
“It was Major, who saved me,” Abbey went on, determined to finish the story—to get it over with. “The funny thing was, Henry had asked me to lock him away, in my bedroom. He said he didn’t like how Major looked at him—he used to growl whenever Henry came near me.” She shook her head. “I know now that he was trying to warn me. Guide dogs are trained never to growl or be aggressive—they’re specifically bred to be docile. But they also train them to do what’s called ‘intelligent disobedience.’”
“What’s that?” Solon asked and she could hear the frown in his voice.
“It’s like…if I told my dog to go forward but he could see there was an obstacle in the way—or maybe we were trying to cross the street and he saw that a car had run the red light and was heading for us even though the signal indicated it was safe to cross. In those situations, he would refuse to go, even if I asked him to,” Abbey explained. “Anyway, I didn’t lock Major in my room that night—I just told him to stay. So when he heard me screaming in the other room, he broke the command and came to help me.”
“Thank the Goddess he did,” the big Kindred remarked. “Did he…get to you in time?”
“Barely,” Abbey said grimly. “He jumped on Henry and bit him—basically dragged him off of me. It gave me time to call 911, but not before he…” She stopped for a moment, her voice choking in her throat. It was so hard to tell the last part!
“He what?” Solon prodded gently, massaging her hand with his own. “Please, lelka—tell me.”
“He pulled out a knife and stabbed Major,” Abbey got out at last. “Stabbed him again and again. But Major, he…” She let out a sob and then tried to get hold of herself. “He wouldn’t let Henry near me, no matter how badly Henry hurt him. Finally, Henry ran off when he heard the police sirens coming.”
She closed her eyes, feeling the hot tears stinging her eyelids. The memory of holding her dying dog in her arms was still so painful—so difficult to deal with. The harsh panting sounds Major had been making and the pitiful little whines…the warm stickiness of his blood on her hands and the wetness of his tongue as he licked the tears from her cheeks as she stroked him and tried to reassure him that help was coming, please hold on, just hold on Major…
“What happened to your service animal?” Solon asked at last.
“He died,” she said, swiping with her free hand at her eyes. She might not be able to see much, but she could still cry with the best of them, she thought ruefully. Her eyes were good for that, at least. “He died and Henry got away.”
“What?” Solon sounded outraged. “But how can that be? Did your peace keepers—your ‘police’—not go after him?”
“They did, but he’d disappeared,” Abbey told him. “But it turned out that Major had saved me from more than being raped that night—he saved my life. Because according to the police, Henry matched the description of a serial killer who preys on disabled women.” She let out a shaky sign and ran her free hand through her hair. “’The Wheelchair Killer,’ they call him, because he usually goes after women in wheelchairs. But I guess he thought he’d try a blind girl for once—you know, mix it up some.” She tried a sarcastic laugh but couldn’t get it out. The sound stuck in her throat.