Page 77 of Born Savage

“Some more than others, princess.”

“Damn it. There you go. Just when I think I can tolerate having you around, you act like a jerk all over again.” When I stood, I was more lightheaded than I thought, stumbling forward.

And of course he caught me, his action so quick I didn’t see him move. The feel of having his hands gripping my arms and the closeness of his body nearly destroyed the chill. I held his arms tightly in return, digging my fingers into his skin.

At that moment he was an anchor I needed even if it was one my heart didn’t want.

“Easy,” he whispered.

“I’m fine. The dream was just disturbing.”

“Any time we think about the past can have devastating effects. I’ve been told talking about them allows a barrier against them to be created.”

“By whom, the great scientists who turned you into a freak?” Immediately, I regretted my harsh words. They were callous and cruel. “I didn’t mean that. That was… horrible.” The ache in my system wasn’t completely about being a punching bag for the rapist or the bruises already forming on my arms and legs from his savagery.

I always had the same reaction around Rage. Especially when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The fact the man was ripped should be shoved aside, but that wasn’t possible.

“I assure you that I’ve been called worse. To answer your question, yes. We had a psychiatrist on staff to help with panic attacks. If you believe that because certain aspects of our physicality were altered our emotions and fears were erased, you would be wrong. We are the same people we were before entering the program. If anything, our anxieties are even worse.”

When he lifted his arm, he noticed I cringed, but not because he was trying to offer physical comfort. Because the monster who’d attacked me had provided a reminder that I couldn’t protect those I loved or even myself. At least not all alone.

He curled his fingers, starting to pull his hand away, but I refused to allow him. When I pulled his hand to my face, he was surprised. His facial features were tight, his eyes hosting uncertainty. With a deep breath, he relaxed his hand before stroking my face.

“I wanted to rip the bastard apart who hurt you.”

The unexpected tenderness cut through his gruff tone, allowing me another glance into his complex emotions. “I think you already did.”

His slight huff was followed with his upper lip twitching.

“You’re not wearing a shirt. Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to wake up to gore covering the one I was wearing. I didn’t have time to find another.” The stroke of his thumb across my cheek created continuous quivers.

The swoon I’d felt before was still there, a crackle of electricity that I would continue to fight. Yes, sex with him was awesome, but I had no intention of continuing the practice. I’d get too used to craving and being satisfied. My body longed to betray me, the prickles of heat turning up the volume of the warnings my inner voice was providing.

I wanted to fight the feelings but felt weaker than I’d originally thought. How odd that my reactions were based on the dream and not the battle. I’d been through much worse, including with being sexually abused. Only every other time I’d been the one to stop the madness.

Not required to have a savior.

A hero.

Like…

“My mother.” I looked away, trying desperately to remember everything about the dream, including what she’d told me about… “Eden.”

“What?”

My grip on his arms tightened as a sickening yet exciting realization hit me. “I dreamt about my birth mother and she mentioned I’d find Eden one day as long as I was brave. She was reading me a story.”

His chest rose and fell, no doubt struggling with the craziness of what had slipped from my mouth. I wasn’t certain I hadn’t been and still wasn’t delirious. There was no such place.

“Dreams are sometimes metaphors. They offer themselves as guides. They can also answer questions.”

The complexity of the man was still annoying, but also attractive in a way that surprised me as much as the rest of him.

“Wren,” I gasped, pulling away. “Where is Wren?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t here when I brought you into the room.”