Chapter Thirty-Two

Portia mentally directed the driver of the pickup truck to drop her at the corner of her block. After quickly wiping his memory of her, she sent him on his way back to Tahoe. She felt no guilt for having used him. After all, when he’d picked her up on the side of the street, he’d looked determined to make a pass at her. Luckily her vampire skills had wiped that thought right out of his mind.

She walked toward her house, tired and weary. Coming home to an empty house wasn’t going to lift her spirits, but without her cell phone or any money or fresh clothes on her, she had no other place to go, except to Lauren’s. However, she could imagine that she had probably landed her best friend in hot water. After all, she’d known about Zane, even though she hadn’t had any knowledge about their impromptu trip.

After a hot shower, she would call Lauren and ask her to come over so she could cry on her shoulder. She had little hope, but maybe, just maybe, her friend had some advice that would make her feel better. If not, at least she would not be alone. The loneliness on the four hour drive back to the city had given her a taste of what her life without Zane would be like, and it had frightened her. Sadness had gripped her heart and wouldn't loosen its hold.

Her legs felt heavy when she walked up to her front door. Luckily her habit of keeping her house key in her jacket pocket rather than her handbag assured that she didn’t have to break a window to get in. She turned the key and entered the dark interior. It was just like she’d left it.

Portia didn’t bother switching on the light and walked toward the stairs. Her hand reached for the railing, her fingers brushing against the smooth wood as she put her foot on the first step. A large hand yanked her back.

The unexpected action robbed her of her breath, and the vice-like grip assured that she couldn’t get away. Even before her head snapped toward her attacker, she knew she was in trouble.

Her father was angrier than she’d ever seen him before.

“Where have you been?” The fury in his voice lashed at her like a whip. The red glare in his eyes only underscored the seriousness of the situation she found herself in.

She didn’t want a confrontation with him, not now when she was down already. “I’m tired.”

Portia turned her face away, trying to avoid his scrutinizing look, but she knew she couldn’t hide from him. Zane’s smell was still all over her, and his blood coursed through her veins, only intensifying his scent.

When her father’s nostrils flared, she shivered instinctively. But she couldn’t have been prepared for his next action.

“You whore!”

The back of his hand struck her cheek with such force that she lost her balance and crashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. The shock of his words and his brutal treatment hurt more than the blow itself. She didn’t recognize her father anymore. This was not the man who’d raised her: this was the man Zane had described, the monster of Buchenwald, Franz Müller.

“You’re destroying everything!” he accused her, his voice filling the house, making the glass chandelier in the living room vibrate. “You slut! You let yourself be defiled by somebody who’s not worthy!”

Portia scrambled to her feet, trembling. She saw the raw brutality in his eyes, and the madness that lurked just behind them. Yes, this was Franz Müller—and he was her father. The mere thought of it made her nauseous.

“Father, please …”

Another strike of his hand catapulted her against the railing and knocked the wind out of her.

“I have higher plans for you, and what do you do? You behave like a common slut! You are the beginning of a new master race! You’ll be its princess, its leader. You and your mate will rule this world.” He gave a disgusted look. “If he’ll still have you now that you let another man touch you!”

Portia didn’t bother getting up the second time. Understanding made her slide to the floor. Still, she couldn’t believe her own ears. “Mate?”

“I searched long and hard for the most valiant hybrid for our cause, the strongest, the fiercest. Your children will be stronger than anybody in this world.”

“No …” she whispered breathlessly. This couldn’t be. But there was no doubt. Her father wanted to create a master race, a superior race that would rule the world. “No, you can’t …”

He glared down at her. “I own you! You’ll do as you’re told!”

Self-preservation made her struggle to her feet. He didn’t own her. “Nobody owns me!” She would decide who to mate with, and it wouldn’t be a man of her father’s choosing.