Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
He buckles the belt on his jeans as he heads toward the table where a pile of clothes is stacked. I take the bottle, twist off the cap and drink as I watch him because I’m too thirsty not to. I take in his powerful, naked back. Watch how his muscles work as he moves. So different than anyone I’ve seen. I also see the scars. See the bandage wrapped around his arm with the faint pink of blood.
He got shot getting me out of that penthouse. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?
He chooses a shirt then turns and heads toward me. He slips his arms into the charcoal button down. He hasn’t wiped the droplets of water off his shoulders, and they leave dark spots on the shirt. He tucks the shirt into his jeans never once taking his eyes off me. I feel my face go hot.
“You slept all night and most of the day. Do you feel better?”
I look down at myself then, notice it’s not the dress I’m wearing but an oversized hoodie. I lift the blanket a little to peek underneath. Okay, that’s it. Just the hoodie.
“Mara?”
My gaze snaps back to his and I’m about to tell him I’m not Mara when I remember we’ve had this conversation. Remember what he’d said about Lizzie’s eyes being green. Mine are blue. And the birthmark. I remember that too. Lizzie used to say I must be special to have a star on the back of my shoulder. It was more pronounced when I was younger but it’s still there. We used to pretend that maybe my father was a king from a far-off land of magical beings.
Dante sits down on the bed. I draw my legs up and after buttoning his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves wincing when he pushes the one over the bandage.
“Did you touch me?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes level on his. Trying to focus on the good eye and not keep looking at either the patch or the scar. Not wanting to care that he’s hurt. I notice he tries to turn the good side of his face toward me. Like he’s trying to hide the damaged half.
“I cleaned you up as much as I could while you were sleeping then put you in one of my hoodies so you wouldn’t be cold. I have some clothes for you though. I thought you’d want to put them on yourself after a shower.”
“What does it mean exactly that you cleaned me up?”
“I cleaned the blood off you. Cleaned the dirt off you. I did not touch you in any inappropriate way. I would not.” His voice hardens at the last part as if I were accusing him of just that. Maybe I was.
But again, like with the water, I believe him. I don’t know why but I guess he doesn’t have a reason to lie. I’m here. I’m his. I can’t get away from him. We proved that last night. And he can do whatever he likes to me.
“Why did you drug me then?”
“Because you were getting upset. I didn’t want you upset.”
I try to make out if that’s all. I feel like he’s leaving something out. I study his good eye. It’s familiar, like Lizzie’s.
But the Dante I knew was a boy. This is a man.
The Dante I knew was killed before he had a chance to become a man. This man is a cold-blooded killer.
“Would you like to eat something before you have a shower?”
I’m hungry but I want to be alone for a few minutes. I want to be sure he didn’t touch me or do anything else to me. I shake my head.
“All right,” he stands. “Bathroom’s in there. You’ll find everything you need but if I forgot anything, I’ll be inside, okay?”
“Is there a lock on the door?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Can I use it?”
He’s momentarily confused by the question but recovers quickly. It’s not so strange a question. Petrov would test me. See if I’d use the locks he’d put on and take off the doors. He said I was his. That I would always be available to him. And he’d punish me when I locked any door, even the bathroom. He always knew, too, even if it was for an instant. Just for one little second so I could feel a little in control. A little safe.
“Yes, Mara,” he says, smiling that sad smile. “You can lock the door. You can take your time and I’ll wait for you inside. You’re safe here. Safe with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
He opens his mouth to say something but changes his mind. He moves to pick up his phone from on top of a stack of books. He slides his finger over the screen and then types something quickly using both thumbs before turning back to me.