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Author’s Note

When I first wrote Erin and Gabriel’s story, I combined my love of language, my fascination with serial killers (before Criminal Minds arrived on my small screen), and—of course—romantic tensions. Back then, instant attraction and deliberate pursuit spoke to one notion of courtship. I am grateful for a chance to revisit their love story and add dimensions to both characters. Erin has always been a strong woman who survived her trauma and took charge of her future. For Gabriel, Erin is both a mystery and a partner, one who challenges and matches him as he sets his new course. Together, they remind me of why I am proud to weave tales in the key of romance: stories you can return to again and again, finding new reasons to fall in love. I hope you enjoy.

Stacey Abrams
(writing as Selena Montgomery)

Prologue

Strange fits of passion have I known: And I will dare to tell,

But in the lover’s ear alone, What once to me befell.

—William Wordsworth

MARCH 2002

SAN CABES, CALIFORNIA

She stumbled into the cabin. He shoved hard, and she cried out as her knees crumpled beneath her. The vicious kick to her side slid her across the Aubusson rug. With a sickening thud, her head rapped against the base of the rocking chair. She fell against the corded timbers of the wall. Shivering on the floor, she lay stunned and tearless. In the cold dark of the isolated cabin, where she’d thought to hide until Sebastian came for her, her labored breaths echoed and filled the space with fretful sound. The flames from the fireplace had died down. Occasionally, embers spat out angry sparks. Wood cracked and broke against the hearth. A storm raged in the thick of the forest, wind and rain lashing at the old mission stones. Inside, the air seethed with obsession and mania.

“You’re mine, Analise!” Nathan stalked her, loomed over her. “Don’t ever run from me again!”

The command, and the accompanying strike to her hip from his muddied boot, snapped her head back and opened her swollen eyes. Analise tried to push herself up using the hand beneath her, but the wrist he’d fractured gave way.

It was not the first time she’d felt the brutal ache that seemed to burn her skin, tasted the metallic flavor of blood on her tongue. It was not the first time she’d wanted to whimper for mercy, beg for the pain to cease.