Chapter Three

The dream was delicious. Probably the best she’d ever had. The man on top of her knew how to touch, how to move. Tucking her face into the hollow of his thick, warm neck, she breathed in his essence. Such a strong, masculine scent. She licked the corded muscles leading up the side of his throat, needing to discover if his flavor was just as intoxicating.

He groaned, a deep sound that vibrated through his strong chest and made her own skin prickle. As gentle but calloused fingers skimmed down her body, he spoke in her ear.

“Jenna,” he said her name on a moan. “I’ve got you now, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

She believed him. There was something protective and warm in his voice, in his smell—she instinctively knew he’d always take care of her. His fingers slipped under her butt and lifted her hips to receive him. She opened her thighs, anxious to feel the first press of his cock against her womanhood.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Jenna.” God, how she loved the way her name left his lips. “Look at me now. I’ve got you.”

He sounded so reassuring; she opened her eyes and focused on a handsome face.

Grinning, he stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb. “That’s my girl. I’ve got you now. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Then there he was. A warm nudge at her pussy made her eyes flare.

Yes.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you again,” he murmured as he entered her. He felt so warm, so large, so consuming. She wanted all of him, every inch.

Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and let him push deeper. But a sound disturbed her. The tick of a clock, the shift of cloth.

Reality.

The dream evaporated, melting away. Jenna latched onto it desperately. All she had left were dreams. She didn’t want to waken. Being awake hurt.

But consciousness sucked her from her lover’s arms, that glorious dick no longer filling her. She instantly began to hyperventilate, fear clutching her lungs and making her breathing stutter and gasp for control. Unrelenting fingers yanked at her hair, cold, moldy air bit at her exposed skin. Foul, evil darkness shrank in around her, trapping her, chaining her, trying to suck her back into the nightmare.

You’re mine now, Jenna Rose, a gnarled voice echoed through her head.

No! She didn’t want to go back. No.

Her eyes flew open, expecting—

She blinked, blinked again, and stared up at a ceiling.

For the life of her, she had no idea what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t a harmless ceiling; it was something much darker, much deadlier. Something, well, something awful. But that’s all she could recall.

She shivered, her scattered breaths reorganizing before they eventually settled.

Blankets covered her arms and legs, a soft mattress at her back. She stared at the ceiling a moment before it struck her this was her own ceiling, the ceiling of her childhood bedroom in her parents’ house. If she squinted enough, she could make out all the pinholes she’d made from tacking posters of her favorite male movie stars on that surface when she was a teenager.

Wondering what she was doing here and why she’d been so afraid to open her eyes, she pushed herself upright until pain wavered through her body, starting at her head and winding down both arms and legs, then her back, and even through her abdomen. Dear Lord, had she ever felt so sore in her life? She collapsed, instantly giving up the fight with a heaving breath. Lying flat on her back, she concentrated on pushing the pain down with one deep inhale in, hold, and one deep exhale out.

Her head and ankle hurt the worst. Not looking forward to the dizzying, stomach-pitching sensation she’d experienced the last time she tried to rise, she bolstered herself before tightening her sore gut muscles and trying once more. More pain followed, a dull, throbbing ache through her head accompanying a sharp slice ripping down her arms and legs. But this time, she would not be deterred. She remained upright. With an encouraged smile, she went to reach for her blankets to push them off her lap and investigate the source of her ankle’s agony.

She never got that far. When her hand and arm came into view, she froze, mouth falling open. Lacerated with cuts and bruises galore, her arm looked like someone had used it as a chopping board. And her wrist. God, she gagged simply looking at the scabs ringing her wrist. Unable to believe such a damaged limb belonged to her, she lifted her other hand and found it in a similar state, with what looked a ground meat bracelet decorating the base of her second hand.

The next place she touched was her face, wincing as she encountered tender, swelling flesh.

What the hell? What had happened to her?

Panic hit, strong and instant. “Mom,” she nearly screamed the word, surprised when her vocal cords short-circuited, sounding harsh and gravelly. “Dad!”

She wanted to fly out bed but a pinch in her spine caused her to gasp and fall back onto the mattress. A cacophony of pounding feet started outside, growing louder until the door slammed open.

Her father entered first, quickly followed by her mother. Her brother Reece filled the doorway but stayed in the hall, and she could see another piling in behind him.

“What happened?” The hyperventilating was back, stronger than before. “What happened?”

Karen Daggert crawled onto the bed with her, gently taking Jenna’s arms between her hands. “Just calm down, sweetheart. Everything’s okay now. You’re okay.”

Her mother’s soothing voice reminded her of her dream, of the man who’d said that very thing.

Closing her eyes, she settled. But after a time, she repeated with more composure. “What happened to me?”

Her mother pulled back, her hands still gently clasping Jenna’s shoulders, and stared at her with a bleak expression. “What do you remember?”

Jenna blinked repeatedly, then frowned, trying to answer the question in her mind. After a moment, she shook her head. “I-I don’t know. What day is it?”

“It’s the twenty-fourth.”

“Of June?” She frowned as soon as she asked because the twenty-fourth had been last week.

Hadn’t it?

Her mother looked devastated to answer, “Of July.”

“July? But…what happened to June?”

Glancing up at her father, Karen let out a little sob. “She doesn’t remember.”

Her dad closed his eyes and lowered his face before uttering, “That’s probably for the best.”

Jenna straightened her back, growing alarmed. “Remember? Remember what? What happened?”

Tears coated her mother’s lashes. Covering her mouth, she whispered, “Oh, honey. You were taken.”

Shaking her head, not comprehending, Jenna wrinkled her face. “Taken where?”

“By the Snatcher. The Snatcher had you.”

For a moment, Jenna was sure she’d heard wrong. The Snatcher? Surely, they didn’t mean the Miners Bend Woman Snatcher who’d taken seven women and killed six. Surely—

But as the sensation that had initially seized her when she first woke echoed through her psyche, she shivered. Absolute, soul-consuming fear. She’d never woken so terrified before.

“You were gone sixteen days,” her parents relayed. “Been back two.”

“How…” She swallowed, wetting her lips and tried to speak again. “How am I alive?” And what about Savannah Waltrip? Hadn’t Savannah been the last woman taken? The Snatcher always killed his last victim after snatching a new one. If he’d taken Jenna then that meant Savannah was—

Her father glanced away and cleared his throat, his eyes damp. Her mother covered her mouth with both hands. “No one knows how you made it,” she admitted through her own set of tears. “We’re just so very glad you did.”

“And what…what about Savannah?”

Both parents winced, glancing away. She lifted her face and veered her attention across the room toward her brother.

“We had her funeral two weeks ago.” He choked out the answer, his eyes swimming with misery.

Jenna’s gut clenched. She layered her arms over the agony in her abdomen, but it couldn’t even begin to muffle the pain. A woman standing partially behind Reece clasped his arm supportively. Squinting, Jenna tried to make out the face partially covered by shadows, and if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, she’d swear the woman touching her brother was Emily Hayden.

But Reece and Emily hated each other. Didn’t they?

Dear Lord, what the fuck was going on? She’d slipped into an alternate universe.

“Is he…” she paused, once more to lick her dehydrated lips. Her mother procured a glass full of water sitting on her nightstand. Jenna paused, drained the cup, then let out a long, weighty breath. “Did they catch him?” she finally asked. “Is he in jail? Who is he?”

There was a pause before everyone gave a regretful shake of the head. “No,” her father said, “no one caught him. That crazy farmer—Gary Evans—he spotted you running wild with his herd two days ago. Called the sheriff’s department, and they took you straight to a hospital when they discovered you in Evans’ woods. Everyone’s been searching the area, trying to locate the place you were kept, but nothing’s been found.”

“The sheriff’s set up a guard schedule for us.” Her mother rushed to assure her, taking her fingers and giving an encouraging squeeze. “There will be a deputy with you twenty-four hours a day to keep you safe. The Snatcher is not going to get you again. I promise.”

Jenna nodded, though for some reason, she didn’t feel comforted by the idea of a twenty-four hour watch. The knowledge she even needed such protection only amped up the very real danger obviously surrounding her.

Glancing at every member of her family, she asked, “So what now?”

“We wait.” Emily spoke up for the first time, moving closer to tilt her cheek against Reece’s shoulder, letting Jenna see her entire face. “We wait until you remember who had you, and then we take him down.”

With a painful gulp, Jenna stared at the woman. Then her gaze shifted to her brother, her father, and finally her mother. They watched her with intensity, as if ready for her to give them a name, immediately.

But when she tried to recall the recent past, only a big black nothing popped into her head. Well, maybe not nothing. There was fear, hair-raising, bone-chilling fear that made her breathing grow unsteady.

She tried to work past it, but pain gripped her head until she let out a moan of misery and cradled her cranium.

“She needs more rest,” her mother’s commanding voice broke through the haze as her arm slipped softly around Jenna’s shoulders.

Jenna wanted to argue. She didn’t need sleep. She need painkillers. A truck full of them. And then she needed her Goddamn memory back. She wanted the Snatcher caught before he took someone else.

But her brother and his new arm attachment backed from the doorway and her father followed them, shuffling into the hall, only to pause and glance back at her with a sad, but reassuring smile.

Her mother sat with her a while longer. But neither of them spoke. Jenna was too afraid to ask any more questions. She wanted to know what kind of damage her body had sustained, and yet she didn’t want to hear anything too traumatizing. She knew good and well every Snatcher victim had been full of semen. With a shiver, she hugged her mom close.

Karen stroked her hair and held her until Jenna feigned sleep. On a quiet, relieved sigh, her mother finally let go of her. She stood and softly padded to the door before leaving Jenna alone. Then, and only then did Jenna release her tears. Hugging her pillow tight, she sobbed, wondering why this had happened to her.

By the time her fear and sorrow wrung every last drop from her body, she felt drained and tired, except sleep was impossible to grasp. She stirred, restless, wanting the security of her sheet wrapped snugly around her, and then beginning to hyperventilate when it pulled too tight, constraining her.

Every so often, a ripple of fear worked up her spine and she shook for a few seconds before calming herself, reassured she was safe. Closing her eyes felt foreign and daunting. She could only manage to keep them shut for a few seconds before she jerked her lids open and scanned the room.

Forcing them closed for a full thirty seconds, Jenna held her arms and legs stiffly straight as she counted in her head. Yet as soon as she reached her limit, she flicked her lashes apart to check things out.

Nothing had moved.

She groaned, wiping her hair out of her face, freshly amazed how soft it felt against her fingers. She stroked the long tresses, even more astounded she didn’t find any knots, which told her how very recently she’d grown used to her hair normally being unwashed and ratted. The slow brush of her hand eased her nerves. She closed her eyes again, caressing herself.

Sleep was just beginning to steal into her bones when the click of her door latch jerked her back to consciousness. She slowly lifted her lashes, already knowing who she’d see.

Her devastatingly sensual dream man softly closed the door at his back, swiping his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes to see her. Then he stood a moment, staring. His pale gaze was watchful and intent. Jenna went wet between the legs. Oh God, she wanted this. She wanted him to take all the fear away and fill her with warmth and life.

As if reading her mind, he pushed from the door, stepping toward her. Flinging the sheet off her nude body, she opened her thighs and closed her eyes, ready for him. The dip of her mattress as he joined her on the bed had her breaths coming in short, shallow spurts. Horny and so freaking aroused, she glanced at her hard nipples as they ached and throbbed.

Take me, she wanted to beg. Take me until there’s nothing left but pleasure.

Hot hands on her knees separated her. She moaned, needing him so much. His palms slid under her ass, cupping and lifting. The tip of his prick probed her entrance, ready to sink deep. She wanted him everywhere, sucking on her distended nipples, pushing hard toward her aching core, licking her clit. She arched her back, ready to receive every inch, only to hump thin air.

Jenna’s eyes flew open to find herself alone in her room, her sweat-drenched sheets tangled on top of her, and even her pajamas wrapped snug around her body.

A dream. It’d only been a fucking dream.

Her pussy, still damp with moisture, wept from the dirty teasing. She clamped her legs together, hoping to appease the ache, but her arousal only climbed higher inside her. Dipping her fingers inside her shorts, she cupped her sex through her panties. Using the damp cloth as a stimulant, she hissed at the friction of cotton against sensitive, swollen lips. She worked a little harder, rubbed a little faster, swirled circles a little tighter, concentrating on her quivering clitoris.

Her hips heaved up as her pace quickened. Release was so close, yet reluctant to come. She bit her lip and groaned, needing one more small detail to pitch her over the cliff. Closing her eyes, she pictured him. Her dream man loomed above her, his blond locks falling down like a stubby curtain around his face, his pale brown eyes ever intense as they watched her, his lips thinning as he concentrated on nothing but pleasuring her.

Jenna thrust up her aching nipples, wishing she could press them against a hard, male chest. Still picturing the face, she slipped her second hand into her shorts, slid the crotch of her underwear to the side and plunged two fingers into her wet cleft. The image of the man in her head sharpened, his lips parted on a rushed breath, his eyes glossed as if it were his cock, not her fingers, inside her.

Watching him, she came, thrashing her body against her own hands, pressing harder on her clit as it pulsed.

The orgasm was exactly what she needed. It left her body relaxed, her mind pleasantly numb, her tense muscles drowsy for rest.

Sleep came easier this time. She once more dreamt of the hot blond stranger, his smooth, low voice in her ear, stirring her hair, the musky, male smell of his skin drawing her deeper into desire. She knelt in front of him and grasped his long, thick member. But as soon as she brought it to her lips and sucked the shaft to the back of her throat, another voice filled her head.

His voice.

“That’s it, baby.” He groaned, painful claws stabbing into her hair and shoving her face into his lap, forcing her to take the slimy penis deeper into her mouth, choking her.

“Harder. Faster. Suck me dry.”

She gagged and tried to pull back, but brutal fingers snagged in her knotted strands, holding her immobile against her will. When she finally broke free, she looked up into the Snatcher’s face, but only saw a big black nothing.

This time, the only thing wet when she woke was her cheeks. After wiping at the tears, she wrapped her arms hard around herself, turned her face into the pillow, and sobbed out chest-quaking dry heaves.