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I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
“I was doing an overnight trail ride,” I choked out while sitting on his couch. “They were all drunk, but one of the men . . . he . . . he got into my tent and . . .”
More tears streamed down my cheeks. I was so humiliated. Declan had now come to my rescue three times, and I was certain I looked a mess. Declan’s eyes turned dark with anger as he listened to my story. He set the gun down on the table with a firm hand and sat down beside me, his arm around my shaking shoulders.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
I wasn’t helpless anymore.
“That son of a bitch,” he growled. “I’ll make sure he never comes near you again.”
For a moment, we sat in silence, the only sounds coming from my occasional sniffles.
“Can I take a shower? I feel so . . . dirty.”
“Of course. Why don’t you get cleaned up and rest?”
Declan gently led me into the bathroom, his arm around my shoulders, providing a comforting presence. He guided me to the shower, showing me how to adjust the water temperature and handed me a soft towel. As he left the room, he reassured me, “Take your time. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
The warm water cascaded down my body, enveloping me in a comforting embrace. I let it wash away the dirt, the sweat, and the remnants of the horrible ordeal I had just endured. With each passing minute, I could feel the trauma slowly dissolving, the water carrying it down the drain, taking with it some of the pain and fear.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
Tears mixed with the water as they streamed down my face, and I allowed myself to cry, the sobs wracking my body as I released the emotions I had been holding in. I lathered soap onto a washcloth, scrubbing my skin with a fierce determination, as if I could erase the memory of unwanted hands touching me.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
After what felt like an eternity, I turned off the water and wrapped myself in the soft towel Declan had provided. My body felt clean, but the emotional weight still clung to me. As I stepped out of the shower, I found Declan waiting outside the bathroom door with a clean change of clothes.
“Sorry I don’t have anything your size,” he whispered, his voice gentle and concerned. The clothes were clearly meant for him, but at that moment, the oversized garments felt like a cocoon of safety, wrapping me in warmth and protection.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
“No worries. Thank you,” I said, grateful for his kindness. I slipped into the T-shirt he had given me and crawled into his bed, exhaustion hitting me like a ton of bricks. The soft, cozy sheets tucked me in as I drifted off into a deep sleep.
I wasn’t in that fucking tent anymore.
DECLAN
There she was, sprawled out, her hair a wild riot catching sunlight. Her damn beauty hit me like a sucker punch, driving me mad, making me lose my bearings.
She was something else, delicate, a twisted dream I didn’t want to shake off. She snoozed without a care on my lousy bed, blissfully ignorant of the monster hovering over her. A raw, primal urge surged through me as I stood guard over her, like a crazed man.
My hand quivered, reaching out, fingers skimming the soft threads of her hair. I was itching to touch her, the warmth from her skin setting my blood on fire. The thrill, the wait, it was making me nauseous, drunk on the sight of her.
Today, I’d paint the ground a bloody red for her.
I’d tear the world apart for her.
I’d serve up vengeance on a silver platter for her.
I wasn’t bullshitting when I said she was mine.
I had a thing for the delicate, the shattered. I liked to take them under my wing, give them a shine, a new lease on life, even if it meant taking on a bit of their brokenness.
The moment she came knocking, teetering on the edge of disaster, it was game over. Her fate was sealed.
