Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I feel a sudden surge of relief now that she’s wearing something clean, something that’s mine. Giving her one more quick glance, I check to make sure there isn’t any more dirt on her shirt, but honestly, I just want an excuse to look at her.
The longer I stare, the more I see a sleepy, pissed-off, porcelain doll. My shirt is far too big for her and drowns her small frame, but I can’t ignore the profound warmth that fills my chest at seeing her wear my number. Lucky number seven. I didn’t intentionally give her one of my jerseys, but now that she’s wearing it, I’m not sure I want it on anyone else.
Ever.
Dammit. That’s such a stupid thought.
I cannot fuck her. I cannot cross that line.
With that reminder fresh in my head, I shove off the bed, needing to put some distance between us. I risk glancing over at her and notice her watching me.
Can she feel it? The tension? The desire?
Of course, she can. I try to moderate my tone when I open my mouth again, then realize I don’t even know what I was about to say.
I’m not ready to leave her presence yet, but I don’t have anything else to talk to her about right now. I filter through my thoughts and circle back to her little charity cases. I can’t tell you how many of them she’s nursed back to health since she arrived here.
“Why do you do it? Why do you care for those fleabags?”
She adjusts the shirt, frowning at it as she shoves it around her thighs to make sure she's covered. “What do you mean?”
“Your pets. They aren't your responsibility, but you’ve made them your responsibility. You care for them, using what little money you have to buy them food and pay their vet bills.”
Her blue eyes find mine in the dim light from the hallway. “It doesn’t take much effort to be a good person. They didn’t ask to be born into the situation they’re born into, no more than you or I did. In my mind, they’re innocent, a casualty to someone else's wrongdoing, and if I can ease a little bit of their discomfort, then I will.”
As shitty as the situation is with Elyse, somehow she manages to be a good fucking person. The kind of person who deserves way more from life than what she’s been given.
“And what do you get in return? The satisfaction of doing something good?”
She nods. “I could ask you the same thing. Why care about me? Make me your responsibility? You don’t owe me anything.” She narrows her eyes. “Or maybe you do? What happened that night, Sebastian?”
“What are you talking about?” The abrupt change of subject catches me off guard.
“The night my father brought me here,” she replies without blinking, awareness flickering in her gaze. “You say I owe you, but lately, the way you’ve been acting has been anything but an indication of that. It’s almost like you care what happens to me. Almost like you owe me. So you tell me. What happened that night?”
I sputter, then stop and blink, wide-eyed, at her. I can’t hide my shock. Like a knife to the chest, she’s killed me with her words, watching as I bleed out. She’s too close, too deep. All I can think to do is lash out.
I let a lazy smile spread across my face. The mask I learned to perfect in my grandfather's presence as a teenager slips into place. “Careful, Ely. I wouldn't call fucking your face caring for you. Caring for myself, yes.”
She’s not the least bit fazed by my response. “Maybe the act itself wasn’t proof that you care, but you didn’t have to offer to prove that I was yours. You didn’t have to be gentle with me or help me through it. You had a choice in all of this, and no matter how you try to paint yourself to me, I know there are good parts to who you are.”
The bitter taste of denial sits on my tongue. She’s not wrong, and she knows I know it too. That makes her far more dangerous than even she realizes.
“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. Just because I show you compassion doesn’t mean I won’t choke you with my cock and leave you begging for your next breath the next time you offer yourself to me. You’re my property, and that means the only person who gets to hurt you, scare you, or make you cry is me.”
This time she's the one sputtering, and I leave her that way, pissed off and mad as I head for the door. My fingers twist the lock into place on the handle. I’ll use any means necessary to ensure I don’t cross the fucking line.
“Go to sleep, and keep this door locked at night.” I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “Yanov isn’t the only monster hunting you.”