AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She opened her eyes again. “I can’t remember anything about my life until I was eight. What if this…what if I never find out what happened?”
He sighed. “Maybe it’s better that you don’t.” Shaking his head, he switched his hold on her head to one hand, sliding it under to cradle the back of her skull to sit her up as he reached for the glass beside him. “Drink your milk, little rabbit, and eat the muffin. It’s late, and it’s been the longest fucking day. Whatever your history is, it’s not going anywhere.”
Willing to toss it aside, Caera wrinkled her nose as he brought the glass to her lips. “I hate milk. I’d rather have coffee.”
Saul laughed. “Coffee’s off the menu. Milk’s better for you, and it won’t give you a crutch to lean on to avoid sleep. From now on, when you need to lean on something, you use me.”
Because his eyes were giving her a strict, silent command to drink, Caera found herself doing exactly that, trying to ignore the taste. After half the glass, he set it aside and plucked off pieces of the blueberry muffin to shove in her mouth despite her protests. Once the treat was gone, he made her finish off the milk, then settled her back into the pillows.
She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “How do you do that thing with your voice?”
He chuckled. “Years of practice. It’s a gift.”
“Connie does it, too.”
“Yes, I imagine she does.” Saul rose, giving her a tap on the nose. “Close your eyes and get some rest, little rabbit. No,” he said quietly when she tried to argue. “I know you’re scared of falling asleep, but you’re not alone anymore. I’m going to be right next to you.”
That wouldn’t make any difference at all to the nightmares. She’d just have to pretend she was asleep until he was, then sneak out to the kitchen and make herself some coffee and find a book to read.
She watched him as he rounded the foot of the bed, her eyes widening as he slipped his jeans off, leaving him in a pair of midnight blue briefs which left not a thing to her imagination. Quickly, she diverted her attention to the ceiling as he slipped under the covers and flicked off the lamp.
Okay, so now she was in bed with a man.
In bed with a man.
Caera slid her gaze over to his silhouette. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Comfy?”
“Mmm-hmm. Go to sleep, little rabbit.”
Fuck, it was going to be a long night.
*
Saul grinned into the dark.
She really didn’t know what to do with him.
Ten minutes after he’d turned off the light, she still hadn’t moved a single muscle, as though doing so would trigger him into pouncing on her. She was the most adorable woman of his acquaintance, and he had the pleasure of knowing more than one cute submissive.
He also knew Caera’s game plan, and was fully prepared to squash it in its tracks.
Firstly, he’d unplugged the coffee machine and squirreled it away in the back of the massive coat closet beneath a pile of jackets. Secondly, he’d hidden the coffee and any other caffeine products he could find on the top shelf of the cupboard, well out of her reach.
Thirdly, he wasn’t sleeping.
Saul hadn’t missed her blatant appraisal of him before her gaze averted swiftly to the ceiling. It was enlightening behavior, and he was impressed that she hadn’t already attempted an escape—no matter how many assurances he gave her that he wouldn’t hurt her, it didn’t change the fact she was naked in bed with an essentially strange man.
He’d given thought to keeping guard on the couch, but he wanted to be on hand if she actually did as she was told and fell asleep. Waking her at the first sign of distress might break the cycle before she dropped fully into the night terror, or so he was hoping.
Finally, he heard her breathing level out. The small, shallow breaths she’d been taking warned him she was completely awake, and not particularly relaxed, but as they smoothed out and became long, slow exhales, he discovered his own body followed her lead.
His thoughts drifted to the scars on her back. The ones she hadn’t fucking known were there. He’d messed that up, in more ways than one, thoughtlessly asking her about them without considering they might be a sore spot in her past.
Someone had been indescribably cruel, and if she’d told him the truth about recalling nothing about her earliest years, it meant that whoever had wielded the whip had sliced a child into ribbons.
For what? he thought in disgust. There could be no infraction severe enough to warrant a beating like that on a defenseless little girl. He didn’t care if she’d robbed a fucking bank with a toy gun, no one should ever raise a weapon against a kid, especially in anger.
He’d read the rage in the scars as easily as words on a page. Lash marks spaced too close together, overlapping each other. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she’d been in during and after, and he was starting to wonder if she’d been whipped more than once.
