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She wakes up a little on the way, blinking blearily and glancing around as if she’s trying to figure out where she is. By the time I get us inside, she more fully awake.
She’s shivering hard, and her skin feels cold and clammy against mine. So I move to fix that, striding right into her bathroom, then dumping her in the shower and turning the water on. I wait for it to hit the right temperature before I aim the shower head at her.
Her body jerks a little in surprise, her arms wrapping around her midsection as she stands under the spray like a wet kitten, staring straight ahead at the tiles. She looks like she’s in fucking shock or something, but her shivers stop after a bit, and I let her get warmed up before turning the water off.
With a soft grunt, I pluck her out of the shower and start stripping her out of her dirty, torn clothes.
The shivering starts again when she’s naked in front of me, and she tries to cover herself, turning away from me. As she does, I notice that a good chunk of her body is covered in thick scars. Burn marks, maybe, or possibly some kind of abrasion.
Her cheeks flush when she sees me looking, and I roll my eyes at her.
“Get the fuck over it,” I mutter, still fucking pissed. At her, at the world. At everything. “How’s your head?”
The delicate muscles of her throat shift as she swallows, and she reaches up to touch the back of her head, and then the cut by her eye. “Okay. It hurts, but… not as bad as before. And things aren’t spinning anymore.”
“Good.”
Snatching a threadbare towel from the rack nearby, I run it roughly up and down her body, drying her off. Again, she doesn’t fight me, which tells me she’s definitely in a bit of shock from whatever happened to her.
Once she’s mostly dry, I wrap the towel around her and wait to see if she’ll move. When she doesn’t, I curse under my breath and scoop her up again, carrying her into the bedroom and setting her on the bed.
I tug the blankets over her, and as she nestles beneath them, her shivers slow and then stop altogether. Her eyes lose some of that hazy look, and she glances at me. Now that they’re clearer, I can see something like shame and fear in her expression.
“How did you find me?” she whispers.
I don’t answer that, letting her come to her own conclusions.
“What the fuck happened?” I demand.
Willow shakes her head, drawing the covers more tightly around her.
Goddammit. She’s always so fucking stubborn, and it pisses me off. My hands curl into fists, and I glare down at her, half wanting to shake her to get some answers out.
“Fucking tell me, Willow. Why the hell did I find you passed out on a golf course in the middle of the goddamned night?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers.
“And I don’t give a flying fuck what you want to talk about,” I snap. “You’re going to tell me,Solnyshka,and if I have to ask again, you’ll regret it.”
Either she actually believes my threat or she’s too tired to argue, because she closes her eyes and finally gives me what I want.
“Someone attacked me. Some guy from school wanted some ‘virgin pussy,’ and he thought I’d be happy to give it up.”
Her tone is bitter when she says it, and a tear leaks out of the corner of one of her eyes.
“Who?” I bite out from between gritted teeth. “I want a fucking name. Who hurt you?”
“Malice, just leave it alone.” She turns her head away. “It’s not that serious.”
I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back toward me as I loom over her. “You don’t think this is serious? You could’ve died of hypothermia.”
Willow’s eyes pop open, more tears swimming in their soft brown depths.
“Why does it matter?” she whispers. “The guy who did this wasn’t someone who has anything to do with Nikolai, so it’s not your problem. It’s none of your business.”
“Itismy fucking business. Becauseyou’remy business.”
That brings her up short, her mouth falling open a little in surprise. Then she shakes her head again, something raw and vulnerable in her expression.
