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"Take another breath, now,” he orders.
I draw in a long, deep, life-affirming gasp, and energy surges through my veins.
"Good girl."
His voice fills the empty, hurting parts of me, turning me to mush, filling me up, turning me inside out, changing me forever. And ever. A trembling grips me. My hands and legs quake. My chest hurts. My stomach knots. I can’t stop the quiver that unravels from the top of my head to my toes, then back again.
"She’s going into shock," another man’s voice says from somewhere above me. A small cry escapes me. No, no, no, I can’t be seen like this by anyone else. I can’t.
"Shh, you’re safe." Blue Eyes gathers me into his arms, and I cower. I try to make myself small enough to fit in his embrace. I press into him, inhale the scent of dark chocolate with a dash of coffee. My stomach quivers. How can he smell both exciting and comforting at the same time? He begins to rock me, tucks my head under his chin, and holds me closer.
"We need to get out of here before they regain consciousness," the second man’s voice says.
I must make a noise in my throat, for Blue Eyes pulls me in firmly against his chest and whispers, "You’re safe, I promise. I won’t let anyone get to you."
I believe him. I don’t know who he is, but he won’t hurt me. He was sent here to save me. My very own Prince Charming. I let out a sigh, cuddle in, and let the darkness overwhelm me.
* * *
I come awake with a gasp—my heart pounding, my mouth dry, my throat so parched it feels like I swallowed razor blades. I glance around a room illuminated with the early morning light streaming in from the open window. Glancing down, I realize I’m wearing my nightshirt and my pajamas. That’s something, at least.
"How’re you feeling now?" A hard voice reaches me through the semi-darkness.
A small scream spills from my lips.
A man unfolds his length from the chair next to the bed.
I sit up, then scramble back against the headboard. "Who… who’re you?"
"Declan Beauchamp." He steps into the morning light, and his blue eyes gleam.
I swallow. "You saved me from those... those…" A shudder grips me.
He leans forward, and I shrink further back. He pulls the covers up and over me. I grab them from him and pull them up to my chin.
"Wh-what do you want?" I rasp.
He reaches for the bottle of water on the side table and holds it out.
I let go of the cover long enough to grab the bottle of water and tilt it to my lips. I chug down half of it, some of the water spilling down my chin and splashing onto the T-shirt. When I feel somewhat sated, I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.
His gaze drops to my palm. I curl my fingers into a fist at once, but I know he must have seen the evidence of the caning, for his jaw tightens. “Who hurt you?” He growls.
I place the bottle on the side table and look away. The last thing I want to do is tell this man about the complicated dynamics of my family. I’m certainly not going to tell him my mother caned me.
“It’s nothing,” I murmur.
A nerve throbs at his temple. His shoulder muscles seem to bulge. Anger thrums off of him, a black cloud that presses down on my chest. “Who was it? Someone in your family?” he growls.
I firm my lips. “It’s none of your business.”
“You became my business when I saved you from those men.”
I swerve my head in his direction, and he looks as surprised as I feel by his outburst. For a few seconds, we stare at each other. His gaze narrows. He searches my features then the expression on his face softens. “All I’m trying to say is if someone is hurting you—”
“They’re not.”
He clenches his jaw; a stubborn look comes into his eyes.He’s not going to let go of this, is he?I blow out a breath. “It was nothing, I promise.”
