Not edited.Share your favourite quote from this story so far on social media and I'll start reposting BOTH Maxon's Revenge and Pawned Virtue next time I'm on.

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"Anna, good morning love."

Anna stirred unwillingly and realised she wasn't in her own bed. This was the guest room.. This was Damon's room!

"What?" She sat up hurredly "Why am I here?"

Damon sat on the side of the bed and took a shaky hand into his. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

She looked at him nervously, wetting her lips with her tongue under his intense stare.

"Um... no? The last thing I remember was..." she broke off and the pained expression on her face showed she remembered his message.

"He's back." She spoke so softly that if he wasn't as close to her as he was there was no way he would have heard it.

"Tell me about him." His voice was demanding but surprisingly soft.

She shook her head in an attempt to put the past back where it belonged.

"Anna, that wasn't a question. I want you to tell me about him."

She pulled away from his grip and backed up onto the pillows. Fear took over her as her body started to tremble. Memories flooded in cutting her insides to pieces. She felt it all again and without realising she placed a hand onto her thigh where the worst of the scars was. Scars littered her body as a constant reminder of his ownership of her.

She started to sob uncontrollably with the realisation that it would never end. He would be a constant part of her life regardless as to whether she could see him or not.

Damon was fuming. He should have been told, he should have been warned about how the beautiful woman in front of him had been broken into little pieces. Damn Michael!

He shifted as slowly as he could towards her "Anna, I'm going to hold you."

"Don't" she choked between sobs.

"I am. I'm going to hold you Anna."

"I - I don't deserve..."

"Anna. Enough. You deserve to be held and loved." Fuck! What did that bastard say to her?

Gently he drew her away from the pillows and while she tried to fight it he could see her own inner battle as pained expressions crossed her face. She needed the comfort and security that came with being held and he'd damn well give it to her.

Finally he had her. He'd pulled her onto his lap and within seconds she'd gripped his shirt and buried her face into his chest while crying the tears she'd hidden away. He was livid. His girl was upset. His woman was still being tormented by a sick fuck. His future wife would never feel this way again.

They'd talk when she calmed down, she had to understand his way of life. She had to understand the differences between him and Gregory fucking Frazer... the man that wasn't a man but lower than the lowliest of animals that he was determined to kill.