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A smile touches my lips. “Even if I wasn’t technically a Saint James when they took me?”
Rayne rolls me to my back before pressing his hard body into mine with such care it astounds me. He’s huge, so much bigger than me, but he’s always gentle with me. His hand moves to cup my face, holding my eyes with his dark ones. “Sweet girl, you’ve been a Saint James since the moment I laid eyes on you, you just didn’t know it yet.”
I half laugh. The smile that tugs at my lips makes my cheeks hurt. Feeling happy after everything I’ve been through today seems ridiculous, but how can I be anything but happy when the man I love says something like that?
For the first time in my life, I feel at peace. Ever since my mom left when I was a kid, I’ve felt unwanted, like I’m a burden to everyone I let get too close. But I don’t feel like that with Rayne. He makes me feel loved, and wanted, and like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, and that’s right here in his arms.
48
Emerson
The first week after I was taken was hard. Most nights I had night terrors, the memories of what Angelo and his cousins had done to me too much for my subconscious to battle. And every night Rayne would hold me through it, whispering sweet words to calm my racing heart.
He didn’t go to work, didn’t so much as step foot out of the penthouse to pick up the newspaper, instead he favored following me around the apartment to make sure I was okay. Which after the first week I was, not that he believed me.
When he told me he didn’t think he could let me out of his sight, I didn’t think he meant it so literally, and yet I still wasn’t allowed to pee with the door all the way closed. But I humored him. He almost lost me, and for a man who fears nothing, it means everything that losing me is the only thing that keeps him up at night.
After two weeks though his constant hovering started getting on my nerves, and I’m not embarrassed to admit that I started acting out to see how far his tolerance would last before he snapped.
And that brings me to hiding in the wardrobe for a few minutes of peace. I’ve been camped out in here for the last twenty minutes after I made a quick escape while Rayne took a work call. It’s stupid, but for someone who has always been so independent, having zero autonomy over what I do or where I go has been a hard pill to swallow.
Of course, I have no interest in leaving the apartment. I haven’t been back to the Center since I was taken, and Dad knows a very short, very censored version of what happened to me. The kids know they can call me, and they do. Despite wanting to remain in the safety of the penthouse, I still need some space. Wynter, Snow, and Storm all moved back to their own homes with additional security until we’re sure the threat has passed. The moment Tommy told Storm and Rayne they were each getting an additional two guards at all times was a conversation I will cherish for the rest of my life. The two strongest, manliest men I had ever met were beyond offended when they found out, but Tommy, who was helping Rayne while he was off work, was having no arguments.
“Emerson,” Rayne calls from somewhere in the apartment.
I bite my lip to stop myself from letting him know where I am. I’m walking a fine line of both wanting to be with him during every moment of the day and wanting to wring his neck every time he fusses over me like I’m a wounded animal. The cuts on my legs have almost healed. Doc left a piece of tape on each leg to protect the new scar, but they’re far from open wounds. The cut on my stomach is a little deeper and is taking a bit longer to close over, but it’s almost there and Doc is happy with the progress. There’s no reason I can’t walk myself from the office to the lounge, except for Rayne being a fucking control freak.
“Emerson, where are you?” The worry etched into his voice has guilt eating at me immediately. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should have stayed where he left me and put up with him being overbearing.
“In the wardrobe,” I reply, quickly rummaging through a drawer to give myself something to do.
Rayne storms in just as I’m tugging a sweater over my head. I’m not really cold, but at least I’ll have a reason for being in here. “Why didn’t you respond the first time I called? I was worried,” he snaps.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” I let the lie slip from my tongue.
He glares at me. “I could have got you a sweater if you were cold. You know I don’t like you walking around on your own at the moment.”
I roll my eyes. “Doc said I was fine to walk anywhere I wanted, seeing as the cuts on my legs are superficial. There’s no reason I can’t walk around the apartment on my own.”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Emerson?” he growls.
I bite my lip to hold the smile back and shrug. “So what if I did?” It’s not the first time I’ve picked a fight with him, but it is the first time he’s sounded the least bit frustrated with me.
He makes a low noise in his chest as he stalks toward me. The fire in his eyes has me pressing my legs together. Did I mention he hasn’t touched me once in two weeks? That’s the other frustrating thing. No matter how much skimpy lingerie I put on, no matter how much I back into him while I’m ‘asleep’, he won’t touch me. Not in any way that matters at least. “Sweet girl, are you trying to bait me?”
I smirk. “Maybe.”
“Am I not giving you everything you need, Emerson?” He spins me and carefully presses me into the drawers, his body holding me in place. “Does my sweet girl need some more attention?”
I nod, breathless from the feel of his hardness pressed into my ass.
“I wanted to give you time to heal. I wanted to make sure you were okay before I touched you,” he whispers in my ear, his breath brushing across my cheek and eliciting a soft moan from my throat. “I’ve been dreaming about your sweet pussy, Emerson.”
“I’m fine, Rayne. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” I move to face him so he can see I’m telling the truth, but he keeps me in place.
“Don’t move, sweet girl.” He bites into my neck roughly and I hiss from the mingled pleasure and pain. “I don’t mean your injuries. I mean the emotional toll of what they did to you. I didn’t want to touch you and you see them.”
“I only ever see you,” I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes.
