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I don’t mention that Damon insinuated that the only way he’d release me early would be to put me in a pine box.
This time I know I hear him growl as he stands up and starts pacing. With a curse, he pulls a sleek cell phone out of his pocket and deftly sweeps his finger over the screen a few times before lifting it to his ear. “Daniels, get over to Damon’s place. Figure out what it will take to get the girl out of her contract.” He pauses, listening to whatever Daniels says. “No,” he snaps. “I don’t fucking care what it takes, just make it fucking happen.” Another pause. “Yes, by any means necessary.” He swipes at the screen again and shoves the phone back into his pocket before addressing me again, “We will figure it out, no worries.”
I am floored by his confidence and the fact that he is so willing to help a complete stranger out of trouble. I let the tears flow freely now. “Oh, God, thank you.”
As I cry, he runs his fingers through my hair gently. The pain medication is fully working now. Each time I blink, I think I am losing minutes instead of seconds. Between one blink and the next, the doctor is gone. Another and my hero’s back at his post in the chair by my bedside. The only difference is that instead of holding my hand, he’s concentrating on his phone. I must’ve dozed off for quite a while because the only light in the room is from the moonlight streaming in the large windows.
I stretch my arms and legs slightly, trying to flex my stiff muscles. It feels like I have been lying here for days. Surprisingly enough, though my backside is sore, the pain seems manageable. Feeling brave, I move a little more and find that while it is better, I’m far from healed.
I turn my head towards the door, and I’m shocked to see my hero slumped in the chair still. He’s wearing different clothes than I remember, and he’s clean-shaven. The lack of facial hair doesn’t take anything away from his handsomeness, but I kind of miss the rugged look.
I groan a little as I start to feel all the aches and pains in my muscles and joints. At the sound of my groan, he shoots up out of the chair, causing it to slide backward. He looks around the room in an almost panic, for what I’m not sure. It would be hilarious, but the fierce look on his face keeps me from laughing at his cartoonish reaction.
After assessing the room and obviously not finding what he was looking for, his gaze lands on me. When he notices I’m awake, his lips tip up in a smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I start to respond in kind, but a huge yawn slips out at the same time garbling my words, I laugh a little awkwardly and apologize. He shakes his head, and his eyes sparkle in amusement. “How long have I been out?” I ask after another little yawn.
He cocks his head slightly to the side as if he is trying to decide how to answer the question, or maybe he doesn’t know. Just because he was here every time I remember waking up, doesn’t mean he’s been here with me the entire time.
“Three days,” he shakes his head briefly like he is trying to shrug off an unpleasant memory. “Nearly four, actually.”
Four days, wow. I try to think back to the times I woke up, and all I can remember is pain. I vaguely remember having a nightmare. Being scared. Then hard hands holding me tight without hurting me. Screaming… Thrashing… it’s all a garbled mess in my head. Probably from the pain medication. I still feel sluggishness from it, but it’s definitely wearing off.
His gentle touch on my hair brings me back to the here and now. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly?”
“I always want the truth. Especially where your well-being is concerned.”
It takes me a second to digest his words. Why would this stranger care so much? It doesn’t make sense, but his firm confidence is unquestionable, and I find myself being honest even though it makes me feel vulnerable.
“I’m a little confused. I think I remember bits and pieces of the last few days, but I’m not sure what’s real and what’s a dream.”
He doesn’t respond with anything more than another nod. His eyes travel down my body, several things flash through them as he takes me in. The anger and sadness I understand, the guilt not so much. I don’t know why he would ever feel guilty for what happened. He didn’t do this to me, Damon did. His eyes sweep back up my body taking it all in again, then for the briefest instant, I swear I see desire in his eyes.
It’s then that I realize a couple of things: First being, that I’m completely naked, which causes me to instantly flush in embarrassment. The second, I still don’t have a clue who this man is and what he wants from me.
The doctor calling him Master Bennett flits through my mind and plants the seed of an idea. What if he wants the same thing Damon did? That little seed grows like poison until I can feel the panic bubbling to the surface.
I don’t realize I’m hyperventilating until he kneels in front of me. Once his face is level with mine, I notice his lips moving. He’s speaking softly to me, but I can’t hear his words over the wheezing of my breath and the blood rushing through my veins. Those gentle fingers of his run through my hair while he runs the thumb of his other hand over my knuckles again. I don’t remember him grabbing ahold of my hand. I focus on the way his thumb feels as it caresses me and the gentle tug of his fingers through my hair, slowly my breathing evens out. I can finally hear the words he’s saying, well singing actually. He’s singing a song I don’t recognize, but his voice is amazing.
He’s amazing.
I pull a deep breath into my lungs and release it slowly like I learned long ago. I’ve had anxiety attacks for as long as I can remember, brought on by any number of triggers. He leans back, taking his hand from my hair, but when he goes to remove his hand from mine, I grip onto it tighter, a silent plea for him not to leave me alone. “I’m s-sorry,” I stutter, “Anxiety issues.”
“It’s okay, love. I understand you’ve been through a lot.” His words are calm and kind. “Are you in much pain? I can give you another dose of pain meds, the doc has basically kept you asleep after you…” he gets quiet for a minute while he thinks about how to nicely put what I now realize was not a dream at all. I can’t hold in the sigh, nor can I hold back the silent tears that fall without my permission.
“After I had a nightmare and freaked the fuck out?” I finish for him.
“I was going to say episode, but freaking the fuck out pretty much sums it up. We were worried you would hurt yourself further, and not really knowing your medical history, the doc thought it would be best to keep you sedated.” He shrugs in apology. “Do you need more medicine?”
“I won’t lie, it fucking hurts, but I don’t want the medicine. At least not yet.” I really want to ask him some questions. Now that my head is less fuzzy, I’m starting to remember bits and pieces. I vaguely recall talking about Damon and a phone call he made asking someone to speak to him about the contract.
I desperately want to ask, but I’m afraid of what he will say. If I have to go back to Damon, he will kill me. I know that now, but if I don’t go back, what will this man demand as payment? I know Damon wouldn’t let me go for free. Sucking in another lungful of air and pulling up my imaginary big girl panties, I decide to ask my questions. Might as well get it over with. Like ripping off a band-aid.
“Did you really take care of my contract, or was that just a hopeful dream?”
He pushes his fingers to the bridge of his nose and slumps into the chair behind him. He drops his hand and levels me with his midnight blue eyes. “Damon didn’t want to release you, but in the end, I was able to convince him it was for the best.”
