No, it was way too high up.
I stuck my head cautiously out of it.
I had always been afraid of heights.
It was way too far down. There were jagged little bits of rocks sticking out of the manor wall, but I couldn’t have trusted myself getting down them. The risk of falling was far too great.
But somehow, I had to get out of here.
Was Branby the serial killer?
It seemed like there had been something almost gloating and pleasurable in how he announced the murders. Certainly not the attitude of a decent, well-adjusted man.
There was something wrong at Ashgrove Manor. Some deep rot.
My searching fingers finally found the light switch and I flicked it on in relief.
But as light flooded the room, I couldn’t suppress a terrified little scream, my hands clutching the smooth fine wood paneling.
Gabriel was sitting at the other end of the big desk, in a crisp white polo shirt and navy slacks, his dark hair looking a bit slick, like he’d just taken a shower.
“I’m here, doctor,” he said in a low, wicked voice. “Ready for my therapeutic examination.”
“No!” I snapped. “I don’t need an examination to know there’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“Don’t you want to find out what?” he countered, a smirk on his face.
“No,” I said again.
I had a sudden, overpowering fear of turning my back on him as I gripped the chair, then the shelves behind me.
“I’m not participating in this farce,” I said firmly, before whirling around.
Gabriel snorted.
“Get back here, Lark. You think I’m letting you leave this room without filling your cunt with cum and your little belly with my babies?”
His babies?
“You fucking little shite,” I snarled, full-on sprinting now, my heels sinking into the soft carpet.
Just a few steps and maybe I could lose him in the dark corridor. . .
I didn’t even hear him get up, but a second later, I felt a hard body slam into me, and I clutched at the door handle, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough.
He was way too massive, gripping at the collar of my shirt with a hard hand and lifting me up in the air.
“Sit down, Lark.”
“That’s Dr. Lindeth to you!”
“It’s whatever Iwant.”
He deposited me into the chair.
“Stop saying you’re going to impregnate me! It’s not going to get a reaction out of me.”
“But itisgetting a reaction out of you,” Gabriel hissed, pinching my full breasts so hard I yelped in pain. “I can see your nipples hardening. You’re a liar, doctor.”
