The last thing he expected to see when he frantically pushed the shelter door open, was Marlena. He was ready to hunt her. To tear every last fucking tree down if he had to. He was going to go after her. 

And yet, there she was. 

 

Marlena came to a sharp halt when he locked eyes with her. She froze as her gaze traveled quickly over her and back to meet his glare. He was so fucking wound up, it almost hurt. Every muscle in his body was knotted. His heart was on overdrive. His mind was filled with racing thoughts, still wanting to hunt the woman who has hurt him. 

She was panting too. 

She has been running. 

Her hair was wet. Her white gown was clung to her body so that he could see her tightened nipples pressing against the fabric. 

 

Streaks of mud-stained her skin and gown. And he didn’t fucking understand what was happening. 

“Oh my God, John, what have you done?” she asked, her voice wrapped with horror. He looked down at himself, at his blood coating his skin. He felt the burn of the cuts like little lashings all over his side. 

 

What she saw was who he was. He shook his head faintly at her question, still holding every muscle taut as if she was holding a gun to his head and might shoot at any moment. 

“Is that blood… yours?” he nodded, just barely. He was not even sure if she could see it. He raised his arm and glanced down, the layer of blood on his arm thick and gleaming like the shell of a candy wrap. She looked back at him, raising her palms just a little bit, smoothly, as if he was the one with the barrel to her head. 

 

“I'm here,” she uttered, her voice quivering and weak. “I'm here, John,” she said more assuredly. “I tried to find you. I made a choice years ago. I…” she dropped her head down and stifled a sob. “I know who you were and still... I'm here. I'm here. We can keep doing what we were doing in Salem, with our lives. That would give you peace. I want my fiance back.” Every thought was telling him that this was somehow still a lie. That every nice gesture, every smile was just a way to deceive him. Why couldn’t he shake that feeling?

 

******

 

This was a mistake. Coming back here, to their so called-past. Thinking she’d changed him. It was like he was under a spell, and she was trying to speak to that tiny piece of him that could still hear her — trying to coax him back to reality. 

He was holding a knife. She didn't even see it at first through the mix of light and shadows hitting his body. 

She ran out of words. Words she was not even sure were reaching him. She used them before to pry out his humanity. But the person in front of her was dazed. 

Savage. 

Beyond language. 

 

He stared at her for a while. She darted her eyes up at the moon and hoped that if she had to go, she'd see Samantha. Then maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. 

He lingered. 

Stretching the moment out, his chin tucked down as he burnt her with his intense eyes, glowing in the night like a mountain lion. She wished she knew their secrets before leaving this earth, but then again, with what cost?

“John...please…” she stammered. 

It was arbitrary. She didn’t think it'll help her, but she said it anyway. Then she did something. 

It was not really a calculation. It was as animal as the man before her, unfazed by the wounds along his arm and chest. It was beyond language. If she couldn’t speak to the part of himself he was imprisoned, she could speak to the one who's there right now.

 

Marlena descended to her knees and bowed her head. This wasn’t a standoff. This wasn’t a battle. This was acceptance. Acceptance that needed to go both ways. She reached out her hand, not looking up. Hoping he'll accept. That her demands are humble, not defiant, she waited, but there was nothing. Just as she began to drop her arm, a rough, soaked hand clenched it. 

 

She gasped in shock. Terror and relief wrestled inside of her, unsure of what this meant. She looked up, and her gaze met his as he pulled her to her feet. Her eyes shot down to the knife in his other hand, and she recoiled instinctively. He looked down at it, and back up at her, dragging her closer to the shelter. He plunged it into the old, cracked wood before slamming her up against the wooden exterior. 

 

His face inches away from hers, he opened his dark, dilated eyes; they were vacant of any life. Black pools stared down at her as she finally realized, she just met…Stefano’s pawn.

“I did this…” he muttered against her lips, his eyes lowered to his wounds “to save you.” 

 

Grasping her face between his blood-soaked hands, he pressed his mouth to hers. A spiteful kiss laced with rage and surrender. Tasting of blood and perspiration. But he pulled the kiss away as powerfully as he thrust it on her. John grabbed her gown, finding a small tear from her run in the woods and ripped it open. He wiped a hand clean on the fabric. 

 

John finished ripping her dress open, so that the hot night air breathed on her humid skin, and he ran his mouth along her torso, leaving a scattered trail of blood wherever he touched her. The smell of iron and sweat crawled up her nose. She curled her fingers into his damp hair, through caked blood. 

 

It didn’t even phase her.

 

He stood back up, taking sharp, impatient breaths. His hard chest pushed against hers with each inhaled. She reached below and felt his growing member. He let his jeans fall to the floor, so he was just a man—skin, hair, blood, muscle, sweat. Without wasting a second, he grabbed her, dragging her into the shelter. It was so fast, but she saw a trail of blood leading to the opposite direction, where she couldn’t see, where his earlier violence must lay. He showed her onto a pile of hay. 

 

“I want to see your body,” he grunted. She took a step backward, but he grabbed her, pushing her down onto the thin layer of hay. 

“I’m gonna fuck you like the animal that I am.” The itchy straw stuck to her wet skin as he mounted her. The musky smell of livestock wafts in the air, intermingled with their own natural musk. 

 

She turned her head to stare right into him. There was something else in his eyes. She took in the heated look she saw in his pale blues. How his arms flexed with his sure movements as he continued to stare at her. She couldn't fight the need any longer. 

“John.” 

A smirk notched the corner of his mouth up. The way his features shifted, so roughly, she shivered. He leaned in, pushing his body fully against hers. 

“Say it, tell me to fuck you” he whispered in her ear. She swallowed her erratic heartbeat. 

“John I-.” 

He bit down on her shoulder, eliciting a cry from her, as he slipped his cock between her slit, but not entering. 

 

He pulled back just as quickly. 

His movements painful. 

He forced his way in. 

It was not gentle. 

He let her scream as he opened her up, his first thrust slow. Not for her comfort, but because he wanted the moment to last. And just as he stilled, he pumped harder, pulling her hair like he was riding a horse. He grunted and groaned as he plowed into her. 

 

Marlena moaned in pain.

 

Pulling out some, his mouth at her ear, he said, “Tell me to stop, Marlena.” she cursed silently. “Tell me to stop,” he said again. She’d told him that he could never hurt her, and yet there he was hurting her in all sorts of ways. He was forcing her to tell him yes or no. Whichever answer she gave him, she would either be asking him to stop or asking him to fuck her. He was forcing her to set the limit. He was punishing himself for what he did and who he was. 

 

He was forcing her to either move on or not.

 

“I said, tell me to stop,” he repeated. The trickiest part of it all was that even while he was telling her what to say, she knew what he really wanted her to choose. And while that would normally be what she automatically chose—to let him do this, to not stop him—what happened earlier had put a different frame on anything she chose for him to do versus something she let him do. If she chose this, then it meant she trusted him. Then it meant she loved him. She did.

 

He was waiting for her to respond. 

“Say it.” His cock was halfway in, impossibly big against her. “You’re choosing this, lady. If you don’t stop me, this is your choice. You chose to be fucked by the beast that I am.” 

 

Marlena closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out, to her, he would always be the man she loves. Concentrated on relaxing. He pressed deeper into her, slower than when he usually drove inside her, but by no means gently. His crown hit the point of resistance, and, without pausing to let her adjust, he pushed past it. His fingernails digging at the flash of her shoulders.

 

She gasped from the pain, tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” John taunted. “I know it does. Tell me to stop, fight me” He thrust in farther. 

 

Pain seared through her, waking every nerve in her body. It hurt—so much—she wasn't ready, but she couldn’t stop him, whomever he was at that moment. This hurt, but it hurt good. It hurt, and she knew what she’d chose. 

 

It hurt, and she would still choose this. 

“Tell me—” 

“Don’t stop!” she cried. As soon as she said it, as soon as she chose, he was different; she wasn’t sure how. He stilled, letting her get used to him as he lay over her, she could feel the warmth of his breath in her ear. 

“I won’t stop, lady,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I’m not going to stop. And I’m not going to be considerate because that’s what I want. But I’m also going to make sure you find pleasure in it too.” More tears spilled, less from pain now and more from emotion. Where was her man? 

 

He scooted back to his knees and urged her up to all fours. By the time he had her in the position he wanted, she’d adjusted to him, which was good, because, as he’d said, he wasn’t considerate. He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled back slowly, pulled back like the car of a roller coaster trekking to the peak. And then he was over the crest, plunging back in with speed, his hips thrusting with wild abandon. 

“Oh goddddd…” She screamed through gritted teeth, balling her hands in the hay below her as the pain tore through her, lighting the nerves on the opposite wall. 

 

It was agony, but as it stretched and yawned, it reshaped, transforming into overwhelming ecstasy. It grew like a ball of fire in her lower regions, the source no longer identifiable. It was almost impossible to tell what parts of her were even being touched. Because everything felt touched. Then he reached around to press a finger against her clit, and she exploded, bucking underneath him as every single neuron in her body shot off like dynamite. 

It was too much. 

Too much, everywhere, all at once. 

Rainbow-colored stars flashed across her vision; goosebumps rippled over every inch of her skin. John said words as he chased his own orgasm, dirty words, words of praise, curse words, words she didn’t understand or remember just as he let out a powerful moan, his cock pulsating within hers. His fullness and the reverberating echoed her orgasm. He rolled off of her and onto his back. 

Something has changed. 

 

His eyes were human again. His body not so rigid. She knew better than to expect him to say anything, so she did. On her knees, she turned to face him. He looked up at her inquisitively. “I'm here,” she said one more time, before lying beside him, facing him in the fetal position. He didn’t react for the first few seconds, still tentative. But then he slid closer, reaching his arm underneath, and pulling her in close. 

 

She ran her fingers along the warm, slick blood on his arm. She’d never had a problem with gore, one of the reasons she decided to be a doctor. She trailed along until her finger stopped at the gaping wound, and then another. 

“John…” she languished. He’d hurt himself so many times tonight. Taking the knife in his hand, he toyed with the blade.

“I’m sorry,” he said with no sound.

​

“We need to take care of these." she ignored his last comment.  "I can stitch you up, and we need to find a way to leave this place before he finds us again... and we need to talk about what happened.”
It took him time to answer, which was to be expected. He took a deep breath and looked at her, after all this time, she was still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. “Leave it, Doc...Did he hurt you while I was out? Did...did I hurt you?” she could barely see his eyes, but she couldn’t miss the concern in them.

 

Their eyes met in the darkness, she knew what he meant. Something passed between them with that small sigh she took. It made it easier for her to say what came next. 

 

“No, you- you didn’t hurt me...he...Fernando...he keeps talking about my past, last time he touched me —” The blade of his knife snapped in his hand.

He moved so swiftly he was a blur, wrapping a torn fabric from his shirt around his palm before it dripped blood. She scrambled to his side. 

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he bit out. He stood up and opened the door, throwing the knife into the shadows of the night. 

Her hands shook. 

She heard the shelter’s door opening and closing. A few minutes later, John returned with a small falx he had found hanging on the outdoor wall in his hand. 

“Sit down, Doc.” she stared at him. His frame was rigid, his eyes icy cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said more gently, “Sit down . . . please.” 

 

Her weakened knees gave out, and she sat on the edge of the hay pile, pulling the gown down around her. John remained standing, taking a large swallow. 

“You said the last time. How many times were there?” she took conscious breaths, trying to calm herself. “I don’t know. I lost count.” 

“Did you tell him anything? What does he want?” 

“No. I don’t know..John...he showed me the naked pictures he took of me again, with the numbers…asked me about the location of a chip” she tried to swallow past a tight, dry throat and winced at the painful sandpapery burn. When her voice came again, it was barely a whisper. 

“John...there's no way that I have a computer chip inside of me? Could it? What happened all those years ago?” 

“Jesus Christ.” His chest was heaving. “He isn’t just fucked up; he is insane. And he was touching you . . . Marlena.” 

“Stefano has to know...let’s just find him and be done with it.” She went on numbly, staring at her injured wrists. She just wanted to get it over with, to get it all out so she could put it back into the box in her mind where she forgot about it. 

He kept quiet.

“What happened to you back at the cabin, John? You woke up in full mercenary mode,” she asked again when he didn't reply. 

“How did you get out?” he asked hoarsely. “Where is Fernando?” 

“You hit him, and you left. You lashed out at me; you said some very disturbing things before you left—” John set the flax down on the ground with a hollow thud. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, feeling like she might be sick. “I'll spare you the details, but you need to know. We should stop digging into your past John...all these headaches that you’ve been having, this is not normal, I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be,” he snapped, vibrating with rage. “I will get to the bottom of this and Fernando would pay, I don’t care how long it takes, but he would pay.” 

“John—” 

“I would destroy the man and the man who did that to us.” He was so cold with fury; he was icy. “I’m going to get the monster who hurt you, Marlena, and I’m going to make him wish he were dead.” 

 

A shiver moved through her because she believed him. 

It was in his face. 

His voice.

In the energy he exuded, and his sharply focus. He wasn’t just dark and dangerous in his looks. John was a man who got what he wanted, whatever it took. 

 

She pushed to her feet. “He’s not worth the effort. Not worth your time.” 

“You are. You’re worth it. Damn it. Goddamn it!” She moved closer to the end of the room, needing the space. 

 

“John, he talked about an explosion, I think he was talking about the explosion that gave you all these scars..years ago.” Without looking, she felt his sudden stillness. 

“He could be lying, but he said that-” she went on.

“Stop talking.” She turned to face him. She saw his face, his eyes. 

Saw the horror. “Don’t move.”

“John?”

“I heard something, the floor...”

He could only hear her loud gasp before the floor cracked under her feet and she fell in.