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She threw on her top from yesterday and slid into the same old worn denim that scraped across her skin, tightening the rope belt. She ducked out from behind the curtain and said a quick good morning to the dogs, the cats glaring from the doorway of the kitchen, completely unimpressed that breakfast was so late.
Rebelle paused at the door, taking a deep breath, her head swimming slightly. She had picked up her paycheck from the bar but hadn’t had time to buy food yet. Her stomach rumbled sharply, nausea rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down.
She unlocked the door, a brief tremor of fear moved through her as she opened it and her eyes connected with his cold stare, focusing on his green eye. The tremor moved through her but didn’t develop further which was a relief.
From all her reading, Rebelle felt like she knew him better than any other person in her life and although she was still wary of his behavior, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, a courtesy she had never extended to anyone else.
“Morning.” His deep voice washed over her, his mouth quirked up at the corner before it widened to its full potential, his white teeth gleaming at her.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice a rough morning rasp.
His cool stare warmed the longer she looked at it. “Did you read the folder?”
She nodded once.
“And?” He rocked forward on his feet, feet that were encased in extravagant dress shoes. Now she knew his clothing allowance was $100,000 a month she understood where his nice clothes came from and why he wore them all the time.
She paused, experience cautioning her, but her gut said to stay strong. Then she stepped to the side and opened the door wide enough for his hulking frame to enter.
He tried to hide his surprise but failed. He wandered in, sauntering past her and the scent of salt and sandalwood drifted over her. She turned, the movement sending her lightheaded. She waited for it to pass but it didn’t. Instead, the swimming sensation increased, black dots winking over her vision.
“Rebelle?” he called but his voice sounded like he was under water.
She reached out for something to steady herself as her vision blurred more. A rushing sound filled her head and then she was falling, already bracing for the impact of hitting the hard floor but she never did.
She was floating.
She was weightless.
Chapter 7
“Rebelle?” Will watched her closely, saw all color leave her skin. Her eyes rolled back and he was dropping the raspberry tea and donuts, reaching for her before she hit the ground.
She was like silk in his arms, ethereal. She weighed nothing. The concrete blocks he’d been shifting last week were heavier than her. Her skin slid against his as her arms dropped, her head lolled to the side and he sank to his knees.
“Rebelle? Can you hear me?” He tried to ignore the edge of hysteria that crept into his tone. He placed his hand against her forehead, immediately struck by the stark contrast of her pale skin underneath his tattooed hand. Her forehead was clammy, her lips thin and the deep red that they usually appeared was muted. He shook her gently and she moaned.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I need to get you to a hospital.”
She moaned again and shook her head. “No.” Her eyes fluttered open and locked with his.
“What’s going on? I’m worried.”
She tried to sit up and pushed his arms off her. “I don’t like being touched,” she groaned but immediately her arms flopped to her side like she ran out of energy.
“You might not like it, but you need it. You can’t move on your own and I wasn’t about to let you hit the concrete.”
A low growl emanated from her, and he realized it was her stomach and his own clenched in response. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Who knows?” she replied, her tongue loose in her current state.
“Shit, Belle. Come here.” He glanced behind him and snagged the bag of donuts that was currently sitting in a puddle of red raspberry tea. He pulled out a glazed donut and held it out to her. She tried to lift her arm and mewled when the limb didn’t want to cooperate. He fought his instinct to draw her tighter to him, wanting to protect her, figure her out. There was so much he didn’t know, didn’t understand about her.
She began shivering and he glanced around, not seeing anything to cover her with. He lifted her into his arms and went towards the storeroom in search for clean blankets.
She lifted her head. “No!” she cried when she saw where he was going.
“Yes, you need a blanket.”
