“Kazimir.” Unlike the day before, her voice held pain, the utter horrible agony that they’d wanted me to feel. Only her anguish was because of what I’d been put through.
And my little healer didn’t know who I was.
After ushering Golden Angel in, she closed the door and I could smell her fear. Not of me, but of what the patriarch of her family would do should he discover she’d defied him once again.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I told her.
“Bullshit. Has anyone cared for your wounds?”
I noticed she’d hesitated before she fell to the earth in front of me, keeping her entire face from being seen.
“Be a good girl and sit, Golden, but be careful. He’s hurt.”
The dog woofed as if understanding exactly what she’d said, settling right next to me. I’d never had a dog, but being able to stroke her fur had a calming effect. I was surprised how much so.
The more she tried to avoid eye contract, the angrier I became.
“Look at me, Rafaela.”
“Let me get out what I need.”
She should have learned by now I wasn’t a man who accepted no under any circumstances. I cupped her jaw, trying to be as gentle as possible since she was fighting me while I pulled her face toward mine.
The flash of rage was instant. Her lip was split, enough that whatever lip gloss she’d used to cover up the evidence was only highlighting the area. Her cheek was swollen, not enough for most to take notice, but I wasn’t most people. I knew when someone had been hit.
“Who did this to you?” My entire body was tense.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked you. Who did this to you?”
The single tear didn’t illuminate her vulnerability but her strength instead. I’d never had anyone other than my parents desire to protect me over themselves.
Her lovely eyes were once again filled with sadness.
“My father.”
“Because of me.”
“No!” She cringed upon yelling. “No. Because I didn’t fall to my knees begging him for forgiveness in taking up for you. I hate him. I hate everything about him and my life. I cannot wait to get away from here. I will never return. Never! And don’t argue with me,” she snapped, jerking her head away. “I’m going to do what I can to make you feel better whether you like it or not. Do you hear me?”
I laughed once again, loathing the weakness the lack of nourishment had caused. “I hear you and you’re right. The bastards couldn’t care less if I die.”
“No,” she hissed. “They need you alive for a reason. We just need to find out why. Bastards.”
As she pulled out various objects from the bag, of which I wasn’t paying any attention, I studied the consternation on her face. She was blossoming before my eyes.
“Here. Drink this, but slowly.” She handed me a bottle of water, shuddering when our fingers touched.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I brought some ointment that should help you heal and keep you from scarring.”
Laughing, I poured some water on my face before gulping more than I should. The snap of her head prevented me from guzzling any more. “Have you seen my body?”
“Not as much as I would like.” Upon realizing what she’d said, her doe eyes became huge.
“Trust me,” I told her, reaching out and twisting my fingers through her soft hair. “I have dozens of scars.”
