No. What the hell is he offering? To help me into the shower? To undress me? Tobatheme?
No!
SEVEN
HOME
HAVEN
Like a cornered animal, I react before I can stop to think about what I’m doing—or what the consequences might be.
Connor has his hand extended toward me, and I lash out, slapping at him, shoving him away from me, all while shaking my head back and forth as if that’ll get him to understand I need space.
I need privacy.
I need him to leave me alone.
Go away!
“Haven, baby, it’s okay?—”
Connor leans down. I’m too frantic to realize he’s that close until my palm connects with his cheek, so hard that my flesh tingles from the hit.
Holy shit.
No, no, no, no…
I didn’t mean to, but I slapped him. Islappedhim, and I’ve spent the last six weeks learning what happens when I fight back against my male captors.
As Connor stumbles, hand flying up to cover his red cheek, I recoil so quickly, I smash into the headboard. My back throbs. My head screams at me. Don’t care. It’ll only be worse, and my own arms fly up, shielding as much of my face as I can. I’ll take a punch to the shoulder or the belly if I have to. Not the head. Not the face. It hurts too much when it’s in the face?—
There’s a smash, thethudof flesh hitting, the sound of something breaking. It’s not me, but I tremble as though it is, and it’s only when Connor blows air through his nose and I can sense him farther from the bed that I lower my arms enough so I can peek over at him.
He’s standing against the wall, his back beside the door that hides the en suite bathroom. His features are purposely closed-off, though the look in his eyes is terrible. I gulp. Now I can see there’s fury in the hard edge of his jaw, too, and his hands are curled into fists at his side. The left one looks redder than it should. My eyes dart from the swollen knuckles, peering upward, snagging on a raised pinkish-red scar standing out against the white skin of his inner forearm.
Is that… is that an ‘H’?
He huffs out a shaky breath. I let out a yip, so quiet it’s noiseless, and bite down on my bottom lip, struggling not to shake.
His face shadows over. “What the fuck did they do to you, Haven?”
Haven…
Where are the nicknames, I want to howl. To say my given name like that, the two syllables almost as broken as I am… Connor, no. Give me one of those flippant nicknames, tease me, poke me,ignoreme.
Don’t ask me what they did to me. I swear, you don’t want to know, and there’s no way I can tell you if I wanted to.
Not like it’s necessary. One look at the understanding dawning on his perfect face and yeah… he knows. Not the details, and I’ll make it so that no one in this godforsaken world ever knows the details, but he knows enough, and I have to resist the urge to pull the blanket over my head so that I can hide from him.
Hide fromeveryone.
Connor shakes out his left hand. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion, though he keeps his tone as calm as possible as though desperate not to frighten me again.
“Bathroom’s right here. Take your time. I’ll wait for you out in the hall. If you need me, let me know. Otherwise, I won’t come back in here until you ask me to.”
Need him?
Let him know? Ask him to?
