Page 95 of My Favorite Kidnapper

The water was cool and refreshing, washing away the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not, Little Bee. I’ll be right here.”

I felt the mattress dip and his warmth settle behind me. “I’ll watch over you,” he murmured.

I sighed, the sound low and weary. “I love you.”

The words slipped out without thought or planning. They were just there, hanging in the air, unexpected.

He pressed his lips to my temple.

“I know.”

* * *

I woke the next day, the room dim. I was alone, but I knew Dante had been there. I could sense him. The water in the glass was cold, and I sat up, sipping it gratefully. I carefully slipped from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. The left side of my face was bruised, my eye swollen. Purple, red, and black stood out against the pallor of my skin. I had a long scrape from where Winters’s ring had dragged along my cheek, cutting into the flesh. I shrugged out of the hospital gown I was still wearing. My shoulder matched my face, mottled with bruises and sore. I touched around my eye and scalp. I had a headache from the general pain, but my scalp wasn’t sore to the touch.

“No concussion,” Dante said from the doorway. “Your shoulder is going to be a bitch for a while, though.”

I met his gaze. He looked exhausted. Resigned. Sad.

“He packed quite a wallop,” I agreed.

Dante came forward. “If his fist hadn’t glanced off my shoulder first, it would have been much worse. I don’t even want to think about the condition of your eyesight if that had happened.” He leaned behind me, resting his chin on my head. “Richard wouldn’t have been able to stop me from killing him.”

“Don’t say that.”

He shrugged. “It’s true. I have never experienced rage like that.”

“Where is he?”

Again, he lifted his shoulders. “Richard said he pushed him away and left. Went away to nurse his wounds.”

“What now?” I asked, sensing his turmoil.

“Now you go back to bed.”

“I want a shower. I want to wash off the hospital smell and—” I swallowed “—him.”

He immediately turned on the water, letting it heat. He discarded his clothes, holding out his hand. He drew me into the warm spray, and I winced as it hit my skin. He adjusted the shower heads so none struck my face or shoulder, and he helped me get clean. He insisted I sit while he washed my hair, his fingers gentle as he worked the shampoo and conditioner through my tangles. When we were done, he wrapped me in a towel and took me back to the bedroom. I slipped into a T-shirt and leggings, and he tucked me back into bed, carefully rubbing some cream into my skin. “This will help with the pain and heal the bruises,” he explained.

I winced as his finger grazed over the thin cut, the area ultrasensitive. “I’m sorry, Little Bee,” he murmured. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“I know. It’ll get better.”

He didn’t reply.

When he was done, he bent and kissed my head. “Rest a bit.”

“I can’t stay here all day,” I protested, even as I snuggled under the blanket.

“You can, and you will. I’ll make us some lunch in a bit, but you’re going to rest.”

I shut my eyes, not wanting to argue. Not having the strength. He kissed my forehead again, letting out a sigh. I felt his pain with the air he exhaled. It was heavy and deep, but I wasn’t sure how to erase it. I was bruised and shaken up, but I would be fine in a few days.

He left the room, and I opened my eyes, staring after his retreating form. I wondered if I had dreamed telling him I loved him last night. I hadn’t meant to. I wasn’t even sure why the words slipped out. I hadn’t planned on telling him. But at some point, I had fallen in love with my captor. He had ceased to be that almost right away and instead became my protector, my friend, and my lover. He gave me the freedom to be me. He delighted in my quirks and encouraged my inquisitiveness. He worried about me—something I hadn’t felt my entire life. I felt so safe with him. So enveloped by him all the time. It was as if I had finally found the one thing I had sought all my life.

Dante was my home. And I was his. Somehow I knew that.