Fallen Angel

By Lp Johnson

Chic Chi-Towners Angel and Skylir Lawrence have it all, it seems. A lovely home, a well run and profitable business, and best friends on whom they can count. They are young, among the 'beautiful', and free to do as they choose.

At least, Angel is free to do as he chooses. Sky, well, she has to do what he chooses, too. Or Angel becomes an agent from the far side of hell.
 

Is this all there is to life...to love? she asks herself often, although she loves her husband with her whole heart. Am I destined to never have peace?

Destiny provides an answer, but Sky doesn't appreciate the mocking humor in it. 

Gabriel Reynolds is like a surprise cyclone. On the night they meet, Sky doesn't realize it right away, but deep within she decides she wants more; from her marriage, and from her life.

Later, she will admit that she herself set in motion the events which so spiral out of her control, action grown out of the need to do something. But survival called for all necessary measures, if she was to have a life beyond the fear.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LpJ Publishing Enterprises
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393071488

Lp Johnson

Wordsmith Lp Johnson is a native Illinoisan, born in Chicago in the late 60’s to parents who both migrated from the southern US to the South-side of the City during their own youthful years. Adventurous by nature and a self-proclaimed ‘nomadic spirit’, since arriving at young-adulthood Ms. Johnson has explored life in several states, including her current residence in Oklahoma. She has a healthy interest in the Sciences, the Arts, Photography, Music, and is ever seeking out new information in her research.  Although best known for her Historical Romance series 'Here In The Land Of Nubia', much of her career focus has been in Early Childhood Education. An Instructor for more twenty years, Ms. Johnson has always been dedicated to advancing the excellence of students through various venues, including Tutoring as a volunteer, Teaching in classrooms, and in Faith-based instruction in the youth ministries. Above and throughout it all, writing has remained her driving force. From her very first poem to the latest of her undertakings, Ms. Johnson brings an especially artistic flair to the words which call forth vivid images in the scenes portrayed in her fiction novels, and displays a passionate desire to encourage others in her poetry and inspirational writings. Now, as CEO of LPJ Enterprises and NightWriters Publishing Consultants, she focuses her on her work as a professional writing consultant; a return to her goal of offering support for the community of fellow writers, as they discover the wonders of having a work with their own name on it available to a waiting public -whether on the bookshelves of a downtown store, or a mere click away in a browser.

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Dedication

For all you do to keep me going...

PROLOGUE

"ANGEL....NONONO...please NO!" This last was somewhere between a whisper of terror and a whimper of imploring as he turned the gun on her.

She had watched as he killed her brother, then her parents, and could only watch now as he flipped the hammer back for his final shot - laughing at her cringing, mocking her for being fool enough to believe it over.

Thought you were smart, didn't you? What? You figure I wouldn't come for you, just brcause you ran home to mommy and daddy? His voice was icy cold as he growled, "Answer me!"

Please, Angel... she begged - knowing it was useless.

SHUT UP! he snarled, making her wince. "Just shut up! He snatched a breath, then the menacing smile returned to his mouth as he went on cruelly, Huh...I told you that you would never leave me, didn't I? Haven't I said that you're mine...always? If you can't live with that, Skylir Lawrence, then I guess you just won't live!"

She tried to become a part of the wall as he locked the gun sights of the barrel on her, saying with a familiar sneer, It's really too bad too...I’ve never loved anyone like I loved you.

She heard the deafening roar even as the flicker of fire registered on her sight - an instant before the pain slammed into her chest like a sledgehammer...

Chapter One

SKYLIR AWOKE FROM THE nightmare with a gasping start, sitting straight up in the bed - a silent scream contorting her pretty face into a grimace of imagined pain. For nearly a minute she struggled to convince herself that she was alive; it was not real. She was, in fact, safe and unharmed.

For now...

Unfortunately, the cause for the terrifying premonition was very, very real. Without question, when Angel came home to find her gone, this would be the very first place he would look. Of course, he wouldn't come to her parents' home bearing a gun - he was far too smart for that - but he would come.

It had been stupid of her to listen to that woman in the first place, the crisis counselor on the phone. There was no escape from Angel. She had nowhere to go. All that she had, and (other than her family) all that she held dear, was in the two-story, well decorated, eight room home she shared with the man to whom she had been married for six years.

Angel Lawrence. He had been her world, her complete life since she was sixteen. They'd been in high school -she, a Junior, and he a Senior -when they'd met at the Homecoming Rally. The moment she'd seen him, she'd gone head for heels. He often told her (mostly after a fight nowadays) that he'd had the same experience. She had believed him, then - and supposed she still did, although at times since she still wondered what had happened.

The first time he'd been physically rough with her had been after a year of dating, when he'd come home from Basic Training (Marines). Several of his friends were still in school with her, and one had taken it upon herself to inform Angel that she -Skylir- had gone to a Dance with someone else; a fact that she had neglected to share when writing to him.

He had driven right over to her house and called her outside to his car. Once he had her alone, the questions had begun. She had defended that it was entirely crazy for him to think that she was supposed to sit out every fun event of her Senior year...and especially one of the most important dances...just because he wasn't there to take her!

His reaction had been to furiously grip her upper arm and give her a hard shake.

"No woman of mine is going to embarrass me by going out with any other man, for anything!" he had ground out in warning

When she had cried out that he was hurting her, he had immediately become contrite, releasing her at once and apologizing heartily. I didn't meant to do that, he'd pledged, I don't want to act like that...I love you. Don't you know that? I...I just don't want to lose you. The base is so far off...I want to be the one taking you places. I want to marry you, and have you with me all the time, wherever I am.

Ironic – she now thought to herself as she left the bed for the Lav – he had not promised not to do it again.

Staring into the mirror above the sink, she accepted with a shaky sigh that she would have to go home. There was really no choice. Her parents would be of no help; indeed, she had never once even mentioned to them how he treated her at times – it would be pointless. They were of the school of thought that a woman and man became one at marriage, and stayed that way – no matter what needed to be dealt with or overcome – until death separated them.

This night, when appearing on their doorstep, she had only said they’d had an especially bad argument, and needed some time to allow things to cool off. But her leaving – something she had never done before – had been driven by the call to the number she'd read off a board in the supermarket for 'abused women'. The counselor had demanded that she leave right away, immediately if possible. Had advised her to leave anything which could be traced back to her, even her car if she could, and any credit cards he had access to. She'd also given her another number, a woman she'd promised could help her move on to safety. Begin a new life.

Only, Skylir had heard of and read of women who'd chosen that life; constantly looking over their shoulders, expecting and sometimes finding him standing there behind them, murder in his eyes. A life of leaving behind loved ones – families and friends and all things familiar. And men like Angel, with connections and power and money, who would stop at nothing to find them.

It was not a life for her, she'd concluded during the night. Yes, Angel had a terrible temper. Yes, he was demanding and controlling. But the bottom line was that he was her husband – and despite it all, she loved him like nothing else. She also loved her family, and was not prepared to have them excised from her life.

With a ragged sigh, she returned to the bed, having wearily decided that at first light she would return to her home – and be there before Angel returned.

Unfortunately, it was not long after she had drifted off that she was again snatched from sleep. Only, this time, it was not a dream but the trilling of the front doorbell which awakened her.

Instantly, she knew who it was (he'd come home early!), and her heart leap into her throat as she thought of the scene she would face when Angel got her home. But she rose nonetheless from the bed, with an air of resignation – even as she heard his smooth, quiet voice speak to her mother. Of course Melinda would have let him in without thinking twice about it.

Hi, mom...sorry to wake you. I guess Sky told you we've had a bit of an episode. I know she's probably still upset with me, but I'd like to talk to her. I hate to leave things like they are between us.

Sky listened to this little speech, easily 'seeing' him standing there in the foyer of her childhood home, poised and immaculate in the clothes she herself had ironed only the day before to pack in his suitcase.

Right now her mother would be leading him towards the livingroom (which was closer to the stairs) offering him something to eat or drink, as though it were eight in the morning instead of three - this being confirmed when she heard his polite refusal;

No thanks, mom...I'm not hungry. If you wouldn't mind much...could you ask Sky if she'll talk to me?

No need, mother, she interrupted – keeping her gaze there deliberately as she stepped through the doorway. I'm right here.

The older woman seemed about to suggest they all sit, but Sky went on first, We're going to go, ok? She gave her a hug, saying softly, Thanks mama...I'll call you tomorrow.

Ok sweetie, her mother squeezed her a little, seeming not to notice the tension between the two younger people as she now spoke to him, Be careful going home, Angel. It's starting to rain a bit.

Don't worry mom... he assured with a kiss to her cheek, before he stepped closer to Sky than he had been, slipping a casual arm around her tense shoulders. I will. And we'll see you for dinner on Sunday. Just be sure to have plenty of that fabulous lemon pie on hand.

Now don't you worry about that, Melinda assured with a gentle smile. Just the two of you talk out whatever the problem is...we must treasure every moment we're given with those we love.

Angel nodded with seeming sincerity. You're right, mom. We'll work it out...won't we baby? He looked down at her – with something just for her in his eyes.

Casting a glance into those cool depths, Sky could quite easily read what he intended to 'work out', but of course she nodded for her mother's sake.

In the car, he said nothing at all; and after ten minutes of terse silence she could hold it no longer.

Angel...couldn't this have waited until daylight? My parents are older...they shouldn't be pulled out of bed in the mid-

Now... he interrupted quietly, without looking at her, "....that would be your doing, wouldn't it Skylir? Making me come all the way down here- he cut himself off abruptly. Never mind, we'll talk about it at home."

Angel I only- she began, only to have him cut her off with a sharper tone.

"I said we'll talk at home. I need to concentrate on the road. He shot her a look she well understood as he added blithely, Have to keep my promise to your mother, don't I? Wouldn't want her baby to get hurt in a car accident, now would we?"

This sly mockery stirred just enough irritation in her – as she recalled what he'd done to her two nights before – to force the words out of her mouth before she could think to stop them, "No...that's an honor you'd rather keep for yourself, right?"

And even as she listened to herself say it, she admitted the utter stupidity in having done so.

You want to be careful, Sky honey, he rejoined in that same quiet tone. (Angel never raised his voice) I still haven't decided what to do about your blatant act of desertion, yet...so you do not want to anger me right now.

She dropped the subject, turning her gaze out of the window and her mind to what lie ahead, positive that what had finally driven her to leave him and their home would pale in comparison.

Angel Lawrence was not a man who believed in beating up women – at least, he wasn't into the conventional form of knocking them around. No, he never struck her face, or punched her anywhere on her body. Instead he employed 'restorative measures' for what he termed her 'intractability' – and he had many, many definitions for that.

Failing to take care of 'his house' properly. Arguing with him. Challenging him in any way, especially about what he decided for her.

The 'measures' were comprised of as varied methods. Over the years he had devised many ways of putting her 'in her place'. Her most hated – and he knew it – was to make her stop whatever she was doing, remove all her clothing, kneel before him and spend some time attending him sexually...orally. It was the most belittling, for the one time he'd asked, at the beginning of their marriage, she'd huffily refused - telling him to check back with her on the fourth of never.

She had to keep her gaze locked on his the entire time, or he'd lock his hand in her hair and then it would get rough. He in turn would spend the time 'instructing' her every motion from beginning to end – reminding her each time of every word she'd spoken in refusal, to which he always added;

'Guess you'll never again tell me what you'll never do, huh?'

It was the worst, but not nearly the only method of forcing her to submit to his whims; like the time he'd made her kneel in the foyer of the house, stripped down to her panties - because she'd blamed his lateness for the ruined state of the dinner he'd complained about. He'd made her stay there for two hours, reciting the 'Rules' of their marriage.

‘1’ He was the man of the house. She was to at all times remember that in their marriage, his word was law. ‘2’ She was never to raise her voice to him, nor defy him, ever. ‘3’ She would always keep in mind that she had given herself to him in marriage, and thus belonged to him. Which led to; ‘4’- She was never...never to try to leave him.

Two days ago, she'd raised one of his pet peeves; she'd argued his idea of having his friends over for a game, at dinnertime. While their dinner had already been cooking. She had refused to accommodate (her annoyed term) his need to show off for his cronies with an elaborate spread, and, she'd told him huffily, if he was eager for some other dinner fare he could quite well help himself to the kitchen.

'Must have been trying out for a jacket with arms that tied in the back', she again derided herself; what else but some sort of temporary break from sanity could have driven her to front him like that?

In the end, of course – after a very solid threat to have her spend the time of his dinner in their bed – she'd gone ahead and prepared the extra food. Had played the part of the 'happy housewife' for the evening, toting platters and drinks back and forth from kitchen to livingroom, laughing up a good show while he and his friends ate and drank and had a swell time yelling at the tv screen.

And at the end of the evening she'd done the smiling goodbyes while carting dishes back to the kitchen and carrying jackets to their departing guests. With the last of the dishes in the washer, she'd only then been allowing herself to think of the look on his face the one time their eyes had met, the dire promise of later he'd relayed.

It was now 'later'; she was not at all surprised to find him standing in the doorway when she turned away from the sink. Not at all surprised.

I don't suppose I have to tell you how disappointed I was with that little drama earlier. Nor do I need to remind you that you've broken my nearly most important rule...and you know we can't have that, can we?

He'd spoken in a kind of whispery, singy voice, as though he were talking to a preschooler. Smooth. His voice was always smooth though. Even when he was furious...like he had been at her parents. Like he was now.

That night, after delivering the news of his displeasure he had turned and gone back into the livingroom, leaving her to wonder what he had in store. Yet nothing he had ever done previously had prepared her for what he did then.

He was waiting for her when she entered the front of the house.

Come over here Skylir. And don't make me say it again.

Angel... she began as she started towards him, hoping to forestall the storm, ...I, I know I upset you...I was tired, that's all. It won't happen again.

Oh. Ok, he nodded amicably. That makes it all better, doesn't it? But his expression hadn't changed one bit. "Come here. He waited as she came to a halt before him. We're just going to get a little insurance on that promise, if you don't mind. Take off the clothes...all of them. The shirt first."

At this point she didn't dare defy him again, and so undressed according to which articles he wanted her to remove. When she was done, he moved in closer to her, leaning forward a bit to bring his face even closer still as he told her quietly, If you want to keep this sensible, you do just what I tell you this time, understand me?

Wh-What d-do you w-want me to d-do Angel? she stammered nervously.

He gave her one of those smiles. First things first...right?

She knew what that meant. This time when he drew away however (he never wanted release, having her do this, that was not the point), he surprised her by taking her almost gently by the shoulders and turning her so that her back was to him.

Without releasing her, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, Lie down...on your stomach.

Without thinking, she shot a look back over her shoulder to ask in surprise, Why?

This succeeded in raising an immediate if rare display of temper; he locked a hand in her hair, yanking her head back so that now she could see his face as he snarled, "What was it you wanted to know?"

She said nothing. He let her go. She lowered herself to the floor, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm the shivers which started in her shoulders and coursed along her body in waves.

He meanwhile had lowered himself into a squat as he resumed his low, moderate-toned speaking, Ok. Now pretty lady, all you have to do is stay right there, where you are. Don't move. And with this he rose and left the room for a few minutes. When he returned, he was carrying a short length of thin rubber tubing, which he'd somehow wrapped in what had to be sticky-back cloth.

Stopping beside her he again lowered himself, holding it out so that she could have a good look. She shifted her eyes from it to him and back a few times, before her head of it's own volition began to repeat the action. She had also, without really thinking about it, began to crab backwards, away from him and that hose, as she sputtered in a panic;

Angel...no. You can't-

And that quick he had her hair again, and her head was being wrenched back uncomfortably – oddly not far enough to keep his nose from being nearly pressed against her own as he growled tightly, Thought I told you not to move? See, it's that right there...the reason I need this. You're so friggin' hard-headed I don't know what else to do with you! He released a sigh. So, let's see if this works, huh?

And before she could plead again he pushed with that one hand, kept going until she was mostly prone, raising the length of tubing even in the same motion with the other, bringing it to land directly across the backs of both thighs.

She yelped in pain and tried to struggle away, but he held tight to the back of her neck now, and brought it again and again. And although she stopped fighting at once – knowing that would only enrage him – still the hose fell several more times.

He actually paused just to explain to her that she was not to worry, because the reason he had taken the time to wrap the thing was so as not to leave any marks on her skin - promising that he had no desire to see her beautiful body marred by bruises.

As though that was supposed to make it alright!

It's working perfectly... he informed her proudly.

She of course took this opportunity to plead with him to stop, but he merely held a finger to her mouth in a shushing gesture, and pointed to the floor. She understood that he wanted her back in position - and he was not going to hold her this time.

But she simply could not manage to lie there under the searing, fiery burn of that hose as it began to fall again. He only managed two more before she rolled suddenly, causing him to miss. The true force of his swing was made obvious as the rubber connected with the floor, hard enough to create something of an echo.

But he recovered quickly, and despite her having put several inches of space between them the next blow connected solidly on her hip. She dodged again, he was right there.

Angel however very quickly tired of chasing her. Infuriated, he tossed the hose aside with the one hand, using the other to grab her ankle in a vise-like grip. Yanking her back to him, he held her down with his weight atop her, reaching for his zipper as she paused to draw what he knew would be the breath to begin pleading.

Shifting the hand locked tightly upon her neck, he shoved her head down roughly and mounted her, and, without warning or the slightest bit of preparation, slammed into her brutally.

The one area of her body he had never entered before with his hardness, and certainly never hurt the way he was hurting her now.

When he wasn't angry, Angel could be the world's most tender, most experienced and wonderful lover. He had always been able to at whim turn her body into a seething cauldron of need, with nothing more than his hands. When he wanted to he could lift her to never imagined heights, even after six years. And rather than diminish, her appreciation for their intimacy grew with each time he made love to her, in that way.

But what he did that night doesn't even come close to fitting that description, she thought to herself now their house came into view.

The way he'd driven into her again and again, ripping tissue and ignoring her gasping, tearful entreaties that he stop because he was hurting her...

That had been rape.

And him being her husband neither justified it nor mitigated the truth of it. And so it had been the last straw's worth of weight in her heart she had been able to bear. She'd decided as he later prepared to leave on his business trip that she wouldn't be there when he returned.

'Yeah, ok miss bright...' her little voice mocked her now 'You were so sure...why are you here now?'

She of course knew the answer to that - but refused to dwell on it long. The fact was that she was here now, and had bigger problems for having left. Thus she tried as best she knew to prepare herself, but couldn't quite still the tremors which began to overtake her body as the garage door lifted and he pulled inside.

He waited just until the door dropped and the car stopped, before getting out and walking into the house without another word – without even a glance to see if she followed. But what else was there to do?

With a sigh, she got out and went inside, turning after locking the door in time to see the livingroom light go on. 

Even in that moment, his voice came, Come into the livingroom, Skylir. I want to talk to you.

So she turned off the light in the kitchen and resignedly went to join him there. He was seated on the sofa, his long legs stretched out over the ottoman, regarding his manicured nails – an expense he deemed necessary because the nature of his business would otherwise leave his hands rough and his nails ragged.

In any event, when she paused in the doorway, he spoke without looking up, Come sit down, babe, I only want to talk, proving he knew of her nervousness.

She searched his face, but was unable to read his mood properly when he deliberately kept his eyes turned away. She could only do as he said. She sat tensely, staying on the edge of the cushions, waiting for what she was sure would be the unpleasant period to come. So when he moved suddenly, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Yet he was only reaching to lay his arm on the back of the sofa, behind her but not touching her. He turned to her at last, cooing softly, Aw baby...you don't have to act like I'm some monster...or as though I were going to explode. It's ok, really. I only want to talk. Look at me.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, turning slightly so that this was more comfortable – if there were any to be found.

His own seemed to hold a genuine touch of confusion; he went on to confirm this, Sky, obviously I'm unhappy with this...I mean, you actually left our home. Left me. But rather than be angry I'm really confused. Can you...I mean...just tell me why?

Her eyes widened somewhat, with incredulity. He needed to ask why??

Angel...you know why, she answered in a soft voice that was nonetheless filled with that disbelief. You know what happened...here...the other night. What you did...the h-hose...the b-beating...and then r-raping m-me- This accusation was abruptly cut off, to be replaced with a squeak of - "Ah! O, ow Angel, no! Angel please!" as that quickly the hand which had been resting behind her was locked around the back of her neck.

Yanking her forward until their noses nearly met, he demanded in an odd tone, "Say that again. I did what to you? Skylir squirmed in his hold but he kept it. Tightened it, in fact. Did you just say that I raped you? Did you just say that to me, Sky?"

She said nothing now, but this just earned her a rough shake. You'd better answer me.

So she managed to nod and whisper, I asked you to stop, Angel. You were hurting me...and I-I asked y-you t-to st-stop...I b-begged...I didn't want that.

I see, he intoned, leaning back so that she could see his face. The fury contained in his eyes clearly stated what he thought of this, without his next words being needed. Yet his tone was surprisingly calm as he delivered them, Ok. But now, Sky honey...tell me how that works, hm? See, all this time, I've been under the impression that you were mine. This meant, to me, that everything about you...everything to do with you is in my say so. Now, I don't have that wrong do I, Skylir? He paused for confirmation, and when it was not forthcoming shook her roughly as he growled a repeat of his question "Do I?!"

N-No, Angel... she whimpered, knowing it was the only answer he'd accept.

He nodded, and eased his hold a little as he went on. "Right. So, how was I...your husband, in violation of using what belongs to me? That couldn’t have been what you meant, right? And you'll never again fix your mouth to tell me I don't have a right to do what I want with any part of you, right, Skylir Lawrence?" His hold tightened again just the slightest amount, prompting a more immediate reply this time;

Right, Angel! Right, yes!

Good enough, apparently.

Right, he repeated, satisfied for the moment. Releasing her, he sat back with a nod before going on, "So next issue. Some changes are going to have to be made...since I know now that I can't trust you. Amazingly, you obviously have no appreciation for any of the ways I've tried to make this easier. I mean, I think I take real good care of you...I do don't I? Even when I have to punish you, I'm always careful not to really hurt you...I've never used my hands, like that, right? I've never touched your face. And I've never left a mark...not a single bruise...even that night, did I? No. I might get mad sometimes, but that's just because I'm still trying to have you understand things a ten-year-old could grasp in a week. Like how to keep a man's house properly...and how to respect your husband."

He searched her face for a reaction to this, but she kept her eyes lowered, so he breathed a sigh and went on, with a weary air – as though he had tired himself. "But, ok...since, in spite of all that you still seem to want it to be otherwise, here's how it's going to go now. Starting today, you don't go anywhere that I don't know about, and give you the ok for. And the question of you going to work is off the board. Period. Maybe we can talk about it again in a few months...if and when I think I can trust you again."

And with this he rose to his feet, the matter settled for him.

It was not nearly so for Skylir however.

How can you expect me to live that way, Angel? she exploded in frustration, throwing caution to the wind with this final insult. "Being 'my husband' doesn't give you the right to treat me as though I'm a child you can ground and send to her room! I am an adult! A woman who has my own mind. You can't dictate my life like that!"

Angel merely stood where he had halted, looking at her blankly – as though he were trying to determine if anything she had just said applied in any way at all to him. She glared back defiantly.

After a few seconds of this silent standoff, he suddenly relaxed his stance and actually turned away. At the arch of the doorway, however, he paused long enough, without turning back, to tell her in a semi-bored tone, I still need a few more hours of sleep, so I'm going to bed. I want you to come too.

She sat where she was as he then continued out of the room, puzzled by his lack of response. So far. She knew him – which meant she never knew. But with nothing else to do, she got up and followed him up the stairs.

He was already in the bed, propped up against the brass headboard on pillows, his thickly muscled chest tightening and flexing with every breath. Looking at him now, she had another of those moments in which she wished their marriage could be 'normal', like other couples; loving, with them gently caring for one another's needs.

The only problem with that was she didn't know any couples which fit in this category. Only in books had she read of men who put all of their woman's needs before their own. Only in fiction were there women who weren't occasionally 'smacked' in the mouth for having 'too much attitude'. All the 'real' women she knew – her mother included – fit in this category.

Growing up, she had on more than a few occasions heard one of her parents' arguments end with the sound of palm meeting skin, as her father ranted at her mother that no wife of his was going to talk to him that way under his roof. In real life, women like her, her mother, her friends...their worlds consisted of marriage to men who decided how, when, where and what – and threw violent tantrums when they were refused their way.

Do you love me, Skylir?

His softly posited question brought her attention back to him as she undressed at the foot of the bed, as well as her immediate answer, Of course I love you, Angel.

Then why do you make things so difficult? He seemed to honestly want to know. When we got married, I told you what I wanted, didn't I? I was honest about the kind of marriage I wanted us to have, right? I told you what place I believed men and women had in a marriage...right? Didn't I? Didn't I say that I wanted you to devote yourself to me completely...that I wanted you to be mine... with all that entailed?

Yes, Angel...you did, she admitted softly, coming to sit on the side of the bed, facing him. It's just that...

What? he prompted when she paused uncertainly. Come on, Sky...I'm good to you aren't I? Don't I take good care of you?

Of course you do, she agreed, but went on quietly, Most times...but you hurt me too, Angel. You say you love me...but sometimes, you hurt me too.

I know baby, he admitted on a sigh. Catching her hand, he drew her across the bed to him. And I'm sorry it's been that way. But I love you...I swear I do.

As he spoke he slid his arm around her waist to prompt her closer still, then kissed her. And of course, as always, she found she had no control over her body's response as the kiss deepened with his own special manner of male possessiveness.

Sensing as much, he moved her beneath him and made love to her tenderly, taking away all thoughts of anything except what she was feeling in that moment, with his experienced hands roaming her supple skin. For what remained of the night, she slept better than she had in weeks.

Chapter Two

WHEN SHE FINALLY AWOKE, it was to the sensation of the bed-covers being slowly drawn away from her warm body. Believing she knew why, she stretched luxuriously and murmured in a sleepy voice, Mmm...oh Angel...again already? She giggled a bit and started to turn towards him as she assured, I suppose I could manage another...as long as it's like last time.

But she never made it all the way around, and what she felt next was definitely not the caress of his touch or the weight of his body moving back into the bed. Instead, it was a fiery burn on her thigh; the hose as it fell hard, and yet again before it even fully registered that he had it.

She of course squealed in pain and jerked away quickly to avoid another – but not quick enough to evade his free hand as it snaked forward to lock on her ankle and drag her back. The hose fell yet again as she bounced back into place center the bed, and he held her as he continued, now adding his voice to his furious assault, punctuating each emphasized word with another blow.

"You must...be out of...your rabbit mind! First you take your conniving behind and run off...then you...got the nerve...to tell me...ME..I raped you?! Talking about I hurt you...does this hurt? Hm? Does it hurt now? How about this, Sky...and this? That hurt?"

"Angel Angel Please! she gasped desperately when she could manage a breath. Ogodogod pleeasse!" Her whole body seemed to be afire, as though she had fallen into a nest of wasps.

Angel blithely ignored her begging and kept right on beating her, kept right on deriding her foolish challenge.

"So you've decided how you won't live? Huh? Ain't that a - I am your husband! Aren't I, Skylir Lawrence? I get to say, don't I? Answer me!"

YES! she mewled, still trying to get away. I won't do it again I promise I do! I'm sorry! Her struggles however only exposed more of her body to that hose, for he seemed not to hear her at all.

That's right! he charged angrily. "I am...your husband...woman...and you...will never...again...ever...tell me...how it's going to be...will you? Let me hear it again....you understand me? Let me...ever...hear it again...and I'll...skin you...alive! YOU HEAR ME?"

YesAngelYesyesyes! her words came on a gasp of hastily drawn air. "Oh Angel please it hurts it hurts! Please please stop...I'm sorrrry...please stop I'll do whatever you want!"

When he suddenly released her she nearly flew off the other side of the bed, but the fact that he was moving off it tipped the balance in his direction and allowed her to catch herself in time.

Now he stood, hands fisted at his sides, watching as she rubbed her thighs and bottom in a vain effort to cool a bit of the fire which beset her skin, whimpering in pain, crying uncontrollably and barely able to think straight. And yet she was quite aware that he was still holding the hose; thus when he spoke again suddenly she couldn't control the flinching of her body.

Look at me Skylir. LOOK!

So she swiped at her eyes with both hands in a useless effort to clear them, and lifted them to meet his still angry glare.

He in turn bent slightly so that their gazes were level as he warned tersely, "Don't ever try and leave me again, Skylir. You are my wife, and you're going to stay my wife until one of us is dead, you hear me? And you're going to act like my wife should. You'll do like I tell you, and never again defy me. And...do you know why? Because Sky...LOOK AT ME!"

– this because she had lowered her eyes again as they filled with tears, but she lifted them hastily.

Seeing this, he finished tightly, "Because, if you ever forget it again, 'til death do us part' will take on a whole new meaning...for you. You understand what I mean, right Sky?"

She nodded at once, understanding exactly – he'd just threatened her life – then added her verbal confirmation when his brow arched, Yes Angel. I hear...I do. I understand you.

Good, he nodded, and now tossed the hose on the bed stand. Now, I'm going to shower. And it's past time for breakfast.

He'd been turning away as he said this, but glanced back over his shoulder meaningfully, sending her scurrying off of the bed. Snatching up her robe from the foot-chest, she hurried out of the room to get his breakfast.

Her legs were still aching badly, but it was minor compared to the