Chapter 4

Damon had another nightmare.

The filthy cellar. One snarling face after another.

"No!"

He jolted awake, clutching the edge of the blanket.

Eleanor came running at the sound and held him tight.

Damon was trembling all over. "Eleanor, I don't want any more treatment."

The hand soothing him paused.

"Damon, these reactions are completely normal. Marcus says once you get through this, you'll be fully recovered."

Damon stared at her. Was this still the Eleanor who'd once had eyes only for him?

"Eleanor, let's break up."

Her expression hardened. "Damon, you shouldn't threaten me with a breakup."

She tenderly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and softened her voice.

"Don't blame Marcus for today. If you hadn't refused to cooperate, I never would have used your grandmother to make you give in.

"Damon, once this month of treatment is over, we'll get married. Isn't seeing you married your grandmother's greatest wish? Could you really bear to disappoint her?"

Damon raised a hand and gently touched her face. His fingers came to rest on her lips.

"Marcus has kissed you here, hasn't he?"

Eleanor froze—then, of all things, she looked relieved.

"Damon, I'm a normal woman. I have needs. I have desires.

"But ever since you... I understand why you pull away from me, but you have to understand me too."

Damon laughed despite himself, though his voice shook badly.

"Understand that you're sleeping with another man?"

Eleanor frowned. "Damon, don't put it so crudely."

She got up and walked to the window. "A woman like me is never going to have just one man around her. You should have figured that out a long time ago."

She glanced back at him. "But don't worry. You're the only one I'm going to marry."

Damon rubbed his stinging eyes. Strangely, his heart didn't even hurt anymore.

He knew Eleanor moved in a circle of wealth and privilege, where heiresses kept admirers swarming around them like accessories.

He had thought she was the exception.

Now it seemed she was no different.

All he had ever wanted, from beginning to end, was to be truly loved—not the title of fiancé.

"Cooperate with everything Marcus has planned. Get through it, and you'll be the man everyone envies—Eleanor Carrington's man."

"And if I don't get through it?"

Eleanor shook her head. "There's no 'if.'"

The treatment continued.

Damon was brought back to the treatment room. This time, what waited for him was a face.

The moment that face appeared before him, Damon's mind shattered.

For three solid months, that face had been his tormentor. The monster.

He spun around to run, only to find the door locked.

Behind him came the monster's laugh. "Long time no see. Miss me?"

The hair on the back of Damon's neck stood on end.

He huddled in the corner, screaming, his palms beating against the wall.

"Eleanor, help me!"

On the other side of the observation glass, Eleanor watched him quietly.

When he cried out for her, her hands clenched into fists.

But Marcus, beside her, quickly calmed her.

"Don't worry. He's not really going to hurt Damon.

"Facing his fear head-on will help his treatment."

She slowly unclenched her fists. After a long silence, she nodded.

"Good."

The blinds came down, shutting off the view of the room.

Eleanor looked puzzled. Marcus put an arm around her shoulders.

"If he can't see you, it'll trigger his own survival instincts."

The instant the blinds were fully lowered, the monster lunged at Damon in the corner.

Through the glass, Damon could clearly hear Marcus and Eleanor discussing what to have for dinner.

"French? That place you said you liked last time."

"Or Italian? We could have a glass of wine."

In despair, Damon reached up and pounded on the glass, begging in Eleanor's direction over and over.

"Help me..."

When the blinds rose again, the room was in shambles.

Damon lay sprawled on the floor, his face white as a sheet, his eyes already losing focus.

Eleanor frowned and turned to Marcus.

"Something's wrong with Damon. Don't tell me..."