Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Is she in there now, crying because I was a dick to her?
Is she afraid to go to sleep?
"Dammit." I jackknife up from the bed, scrub a hand through my hair, and then rattle off a string of curses before stomping toward the door. I barely stop long enough to tap on her door before I'm pushing it open. My heart cracks at the sight of her curled up on the closet floor in a miserable little ball.
"Octavio?" she whispers, blinking up at me. Even though the only light in the room comes from the hall, I can see that's she's been crying. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, the honey color washed out and dull.
Guilt tears through me, burning like acid in my stomach.
To hell with right and wrong. And to hell with this job. I'm not going to let her suffer like this when I know how to help soothe her. She needs my arms around her. She needs me, goddammit.
My mind made up, I stalk across the room to her.
"Octavio?" she says again, less certainly this time.
"You sleep in my room now, conejita," I mutter, bending down to lift her easily from the floor. "So long as you're afraid to close your eyes, you sleep with me."
"Okay," she whispers, not fighting me for once. Her arms go around my neck, her head against my shoulder.
I stomp out of the room with her in my arms, and back into my own. As soon as I lay her in the bed and climb in beside her, she curls around me with a sweet little sigh. Her head lands against my chest, one arm sliding across my torso. My entire body relaxes, all the tension from the day draining away. Fire sizzles everywhere she touches me, but I shove it away as ruthlessly as possible, cramming it down into a little box.
She isn't ready for what I want yet. She may not ever be.
"I thought you were angry with me," she says, her sweet breath blowing across my chest.
"No, angel. I'm not mad at you." I slide a hand into her hair. It's as soft as the rest of her. "I'm worried about you. You don't eat enough. I don't want you to end up back in the hospital."
"I'm not used to eating very much."
"Why?" I already know the answer, but I want her to tell me.
She hesitates for a moment, tensing slightly.
"You don't have to tell me." I want her to trust me with her pain, though.
"I cooked for Nikolai and a few of his men, but I was only allowed to eat when they were finished, and only what was left," she says after a moment. "One of Nikolai's men, Ivan Sedov, would go out of his way to ensure I had as little as possible. Frequently, that meant I got nothing."
That fucking prick. A growl rumbles in my chest before I can stop it as rage courses through me in a black cloud. I commit Ivan Sedov's name to memory, determined to look into him later.
"Nikolai wouldn't let him have me, and he didn't like that. I think he controlled what I ate as punishment. It was one way he could hurt me without crossing Nikolai." She sighs softly. "I hate him. He's an overgrown bully."
I clutch her tighter to me, running a hand from her hair down her back and then up again, trying to soothe her. "You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I'll never tell you no."
"Okay," she whispers again, sounding like she's half asleep.
I want to ask her more about this Sedov, but don't. It can wait until later. "Sleep now, little bunny," I whisper. "I'll keep you safe."
Within moments, she's sleeping peacefully, her breaths coming as cute little puffs of sound against my chest. I lie awake for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. I'm not restless anymore though. With her in my arms, I feel more peaceful than I have all day long. That doesn't worry me nearly as much as it should.
A week ago, she was a cartel slave, held captive by a fucking monster. And she's counting on me to set her free.
Can I do it? Fucking hell. Do I have a choice?
I made a promise to her. I can't break it now.
"Octavio," she whispers in her sleep, snuggling closer.
I squeeze my eyes closed, my heart pulsing as she steals every little piece of it. If loving her means letting her go…I can't do it. I fucking can't. Not when it feels like this is where she belongs.
"Fuck," I mutter, not sure how the hell I'm supposed to pull myself back from the edge now. Not sure if it's even possible. I've already crossed too many lines, gotten in too deep. And I don't want to stop now.