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He cocked his head, slowly brushing his thumb across his bottom lip as he contemplated what to say. Finally, all humor wiped from his expression, he sighed. “There’s a lot you need to know. I don’t know how you’ll take it, but you deserve to know. After that, I’ll explain what we need from you.”

Apprehension trickled through me. It was starting to sink in, the reality of what I’d gotten myself into. Or, more accurately, what he’d dragged me into.

His eyes dropped lower and he frowned. Following his gaze, I realized I was dragging my nail over the scars on the inside of my arm over my sleeve. I held my hands together behind my back, digging my nails into my palms where he couldn’t see.

“Fine,” I said. “Just stop being…” I gestured at him, not even knowing how to put it. “Fucking weird,” I finished.

The smile that began to spread lifted his lips and lit up his eyes, something soft and lambent that made my heart trip, then beat in double time.

He abruptly turned and disappeared into the bathroom, then emerged two seconds later with a first aid kid in his hands.

“Come here.” His voice sounded huskier than usual, or maybe that was my imagination. He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting it in invitation.

I stepped closer, refusing to meet his eyes, and like I wasn’t moving fast enough for him, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down beside him. I stared down at his thighs, the material of his pants stretching over the hard muscle. My gaze caught on a bulge running down one⁠—

Oh, fuck.

My cheeks burned as I ripped my eyes off his dick. Jesus Christ. That thing was practically the entire length of his fucking thigh.

He gently took my chin in his fingers and tilted my head so the wound was angled toward him.

“This might hurt,” he murmured, brushing my hair back with one hand and tugging at the old bandage. It was situated directly above my ear, and a few strands got caught and were pulled from my head. It didn’t hurt half as bad as anything else I’d been through, so when he apologized, I didn’t say anything.

He traced the shell of my ear and said, “These are cute.” His finger slid down to my lobe, and he rubbed it between his thumb and index finger.

My ears…were cute? They weren’t. They stuck out from my head in the most unattractive way, which was why I normally wore my hair down.

“I should’ve killed him,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. You getting hurt was my fault.”

Taken aback, I turned to look at him. He gripped my chin and tutted at me. “Stay still. I know I’m pretty but you can look all you want when I’m done with you.”

What a fucking ass.

Something cold touched my skin, and then it started to sting, making me inhale sharply. “Why are you apologizing for not being a murderer?”

“Who said I wasn’t a murderer?”

I glanced up at him, saw the humor in his eyes, the slight smile on his face. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was just joking around or if he was actually a murderous psychopath and thought it was funny that he was a murderous psychopath.

He laughed quietly. “I’m not a murderer.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him.

Something soft was slipped above my ear, followed by the firm pressure of his fingers. Then he took my chin in one hand, tilting my head and forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m not a murderer, but if anyone tries to hurt you again, that’ll change in a heartbeat,” he said.

My pulse roared in my ears and I tried to pull my chin out of his grip, but he tightened it.

His words weighed heavily on me, and I didn’t know what to do with them. I really shouldn’t be getting hot and bothered by a man declaring that he’d kill another human being if they hurt me.

That should not have made my chest warm or my fingers tingle. I felt uncomfortable, out of my element, and I didn’t know how to break this weird tension that had settled over me, that was clogging my lungs and making it hard to breathe. I wanted to get angry, but I was having a hard time finding it at the moment.

“Whatever,” I muttered, looking down. Except my eyes caught on the tiny cleft in his chin, and fuck if I didn’t find that endearing. I wanted to hold him like he was holding me, dip my thumb into it.

But he broke the moment before I could do anything as stupid as rubbing his chin, dropping his hand. He pushed off the bed, his eyes full of a quiet sincerity when he looked at me and said, “Come on. There’s something you need to see.”

Dread blanketed me, and I trailed after him with heavy feet.