Page 207 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
He undoes his belt, his gloved fingers slipping it out of the loops too easily. It comes free with a snap, and I flinch. His eyes aren’t blocked by this mask. He’s so close that I catch his pupils dilating at my reaction.
Goosebumps rise on my skin. The horror of knowing what’s coming curls in the pit of my stomach. He steps up closer, until the mask is almost touching my face.
He laughs.
With quick movements, he wraps the belt around my neck. He pulls it tight enough to cut off most of my air. I open and close my mouth, only able to draw in a whistling trickle of oxygen. He moves behind me, finicking with something. The belt gets tighter. My eyes bug out, and I thrash without warning.
It loosens a fraction.
When he comes back around, it dawns on me that he secured it at that tightness somehow.
He reaches around and flips the tail of the belt over my shoulder. “Like a little leash,” he sneers. “What do you think?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The leather pushes at my throat, containing everything.
“It’s a good look on her,” another man says from behind me. “Did she think you were talking to her?”
Bear laughs. “She’ll learn. Pets don’t talk back.”
If only looks could kill—he’d drop dead in an instant.
I choke on my own retort and struggle to bring myself back under control. Bear watches me behind the mask that will undoubtedly feature in new nightmares.
“She still has some spark in her,” the man comments.
He moves into my line of vision. He, unlike Bear, isn’t wearing a mask. He resembles him, though.
Brother.
Older. He’s got a full beard, dark eyes, a cap obscuring the hair. He’s not as tall as Bear—he’s the one I confused for Penn. Or Oliver. Although watching him now, I have no idea how I could’ve made that mistake.
Where Penn and Oliver are lean, their muscles streamlined to be fast on the ice, Bear’s brother is bulky. His shoulders are wide, his biceps straining against his long-sleeve t-shirt. He picks up a small black box. Attached to the top of it is a clamp with red rubber handles.
There’s another one that isn’t attached to anything.
I can’t even fucking swallow. I stare at the brother. Bear moves out of the way, his arms crossing. The brother picks up the free clamp and reaches out.
In slow motion, he touches it to my stomach.
Instantly, agony arcs through me. I want to open my mouth and scream, but every muscle is rigid. My jaw clenches so hard, it’s a wonder my teeth don’t crack.
When he pulls away, I fall. My shoulders scream.
“Again?” he asks. He brushes my hair out of my face, then slaps my cheek. “I said—again?”
I shake my head.
He laughs. “Do you know why you’re here?”
I shake my head again. Beyond the vague idea that Bear has some unfinished business with me—but is it really me, or is it Oliver and Penn who he has the issue with? They’re the ones who stopped him after Oliver dangled me like bait.
“My brother will never play hockey again.” He touches my rib with the metal clamp.
A high-pitched whine fills my ears. I know nothing but pain, like everything inside me is being ripped apart and set on fire. It’s only when he removes the clamp and the noise continues that I realize it’s me.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I can’t catch my breath—it’s like my lungs have vaporized, leaving nothing but blood. There’s blood in my mouth, too.
“He just wanted a little taste.” He reaches down and tugs at the hem of my panties. “And your boyfriends… you have a few, don’t you? That’s what Bear said. You’re pretty enough to pull a few guys, but at the same time? You really must be a slut.”