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Suddenly, his expression shifts, like he is done observing and he reached a conclusion. He turns and heads to the walk-in shower, stopping right at the entrance and turns to me, silent.
For a split second, I thought he wanted me out. Just for a split, irrational second.
I walk over and enter the shower, stopping in front of that magnificent view. It’s dark, but the moonlight is still reflecting on the snow that covers the landscape. I take a deep breath through my nose and midway, it hits me so hard I stumble backwards, under the stream of the shower and right into his hard body.
I’m shaking.
“Suki?!” I hear his deep voice vibrating through me as one of his strong arms encircles my chest above my breasts. I clutch it with both hands, holding him tight, pressing it into my body.
“He could…”
“No. It’s treated. Same as the window above the bath. We can see, he can’t.”
I let out the breath I was holding and relax under his touch. I look up at him, so damn grateful for this… He nods, ever so slightly, in acknowledgment.
He lets me go.
A few minutes later I’m sitting, yet again, on the countertop next to the sink as he applies cream to whatever new scrapes and cuts I have on my body. He reapplies on my feet, which have not healed yet, but thankfully they do not hurt. Or maybe I just got used to pain. He inspects my face, tracing my bruises with his calloused fingers and I see something in his gaze. Something that was not there before and I cannot quite figure out what it is. An emotion. I am convinced I am seeing it because it is something new, something he has not learned to hide yet, because he does not know it exists.
It is mine. I see it behind his eyes. A demon that smiles at me.
I smile back.
He carefully mended the cut on my temple with some closure strips and already gave me some meds for my growing headache. Now I watch his thick fingers threading a surgical needle, aiming it at the bullet hole that pierces his arm. Covering his big hand with mine, I pull the needle away from him, just as I wrap my legs around his body, pulling him towards me so I can see the wound properly. I can feel his gaze following my every move.
He doesn’t even wince when I apply more alcohol to the open wound. Not even when I push the needle into his flesh, slowly and carefully stitching one side to the other, before moving to the back of his arm, where the exit hole is.
That intense gaze feels heavy on me. Not on the wound, not on the needle going in and out of his skin, but on me. He does not move, does not wince, does not protest, he simply shifts in whatever direction I push him in for better access, watching me the whole time.
When I finish, he takes away the needle and thread and places it on the other side of the sink, before inspecting my handiwork in the mirror. He turns to me and this time his gaze holds a surprised, questioning look.
“I learned…”
The unspoken heartbreak lingers heavy in the air, and he takes in a deep, charged breath. I learned, I had to. Adrien never did this, take care of me like this stranger does. He did, however, leave a first aid kit in my dungeon.
I learned…
He turns and leaves the bathroom. I sigh and turn to look at the moonlit scenery once again. This. I’m going to miss this.
I sigh again, jumping off the countertop just as he walks back in the bathroom holding another one of his t-shirts. I thank him with a slight smile and pull it over my head after handing him my towel.
We walk out of the bathroom together and stop in the hallway.
“Thank you…” I finally say. It feels surreal. This man saved me and captured me all at the same time. This whole situation is a sick contradiction that would make no sense in any other world but ours. A victim does not thank her kidnapper, but he is the lesser of two evils and no matter how much I want to believe otherwise, Niklas is my kind of evil.
He gives me a slight nod and turns around.
Surreal.
I turn and head tomyroom, climbing under the covers ofmybed. I’m safe now. Sleep takes me immediately.
NIKLAS
I didn’t want to leave her alone, not since I have a feeling she might have a concussion, but she doesn’t belong in this room and I need to be here.
I watch my computer screens come alive, all five of them sitting on the large desk of my office. I might have sold my defense technology company, but my skills have been useful for completely opposite purposes.
However, over the years I figured out how to branch out from developing systems that can be used for defense, especially in war zones, to using my tech skills so I can find people that no one is searching for. I created my own programs, my own defenses, my own face recognition software. I developed codes that could destroy their lives in minutes, reduce them to shadows, codes that would quite literally destroy every single mention of them in history.
