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Darkest Before Dawn



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Darkest Before Dawn by Stevie J Cole




Sixty-four days in captivity. Sixty-four days to lose yourself—or find yourself.


I’m Ava Donovan. I was abducted at the age of nineteen. I’m told I’m a survivor, but the truth is, I only survived because he saved me. Even when he kept me locked in that room—he saved me.


Constantly wondering when and how you will die, that does something to you. To your mind. But what do you do when it does something to your heart? What do you do when the man holding you captive seems just as broken as you are, when his mere presence becomes a comfort you crave—when you love him even though you shouldn’t?


You smile and tell yourself it’s okay because love has no morals.


Sixty-four days in captivity gave me a love most people will never have and my freedom took it all away.




Two thrusts in, he grabs my hair and yanks my head, causing a deep bow to form in the middle of my back. He fucks me so hard my back begins to ache, and for a brief moment, I’m afraid he’s going to snap my spine in two. I moan. I push against him. I fight the urge I have at times to pull away from him. Max grabs me by the throat again, yanking me closer to him so he can kiss my neck. His heavy breaths blow across my skin, against my ear with each hard thrust, and that feeling sends chill bumps sweeping over my skin. His fingers slide around my throat until he’s cupping my jaw, and on a groan, he pulls me in for another hard, angry kiss. He’s fucking me like he wants to kill me, yet he’s kissing me like he wants to love me. The second he releases my throat, his hand slaps over my ass and he buries himself deeper inside of me before gripping my hips in his hands so hard I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. It’s like he can’t fuck me hard enough. Max is dancing on that thin, fragile line between pleasure and pain. I fight to not pull away from him because while it hurts, it feels incredible. This is fucking. Plain and simple. His fingers sink deeper into my hips as his pace picks up. Sweat builds on the small of my back, and I can’t stop the string of moans that keep trickling through my lips, my body clenching. Another smack over the ass and he winds my hair around his wrist again, tugging my head back just before he stiffens behind me, groaning and cursing. I collapse onto the bed, trying desperately to catch my breath. My heart is pounding, my body weightless. Max lies down next to me, his eyes trained on mine. And here we stay in the silence, hidden in the dark recesses of this house like this is the way things are meant to be. And in my head I recite a line from Pablo Neruda: I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. Max drags me onto his chest. I lie, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat as I trail my fingers over his arm, tracing over his tattoos. I’m in love with the man I should hate, and I believe he’s in love with something he must kill.


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