You cannot escape me. You are here. That is the way of…

““You cannot escape me. You are here. That is the way of it.” Glancing toward the door and the horrors she knew lay beyond, she whispered, “I have no choice.” “You choose where you place your feet, Blue Eyes. This path you walk is bad--very bad. This Comanche will show you, eh?” He leaned closer. “You will learn that my hand upon you is not a terrible thing.” Loretta’s eyes widened. “N-not now?” His fingers curled in her hair, making a loose fist. “You will not eat. You fear my touch. You would die first. Your words, eh?” Loretta’s senses started to swim. She blinked to clear her vision. She tried to shrug his hand away. “Even if I ate and you let me be tonight, you wouldn’t the next, or the next.” Heat crept up her neck. “And--after you, all your friends. Do you think I’m so stupid?” He had abandoned his grip on her hair to trace the too generous neckline of his hunting shirt, his fingertip burning a trail along her collarbone, up the slope of her shoulder, along her throat. She closed her eyes, too weak to shove him away. “No friends, Blue Eyes. You belong to this Comanche.” “I’ll fight you--until I draw my last breath.” She swayed and righted herself. “Why bother with me? Why not find yourself an Indian woman?” “It is you I want.” He brushed his knuckles along the hollow of her cheek. “Your skin is moonlight. I am dark like night next to you.” He slid his hand behind her neck and drew her toward him. “Sunshine in your hair, moonlight on your skin, this Comanche’s bright one, no?””

— Catherine Anderson