I scrambled out of my blankets.
He made love to me like he’s been waiting for me his entire life.
I stalked across the conservatory, forcing myself to remember other things.
He threw me in a basement.
He has a strangling problem.
But he’s different now.
He’s changing...
I threw myself into the downstairs bathroom and slammed the door. I wished there was a mirror and not an empty frame. I wanted to glare into my eyes and ensure I understood all the ramifications of my stupid, stupid heart.
Breathing hard, I muttered under my breath, “If you allow this to happen, that’s it, Gem. No going back. You’re in this for however long it takes to heal him. You’re signing up for pain. For heartache. For potential death if he snaps and you’re not ready to fight. He’s not normal. Who knows if he will ever be normal. He’s been a slave, for God’s sake. He’s scarred to hell, inside and out. What on earth makes you think you’re qualified to help him?”
Because I love him.
All my fight vanished.
Dammit.
Just...ugh.
With shaky hands, I grabbed the peach dress I’d placed there the other night. I’d raided a few clothes from guest wardrobes and placed the ones I could tolerate wearing in here so I didn’t have to keep venturing into those hellholes.
At least the dress was easy to slip into, pulling over my head instead of fighting with skirts and leggings with the chain around my ankle.
That damn chain has got to go.
The expensive material grazed my nipples and belly as it fell to my knees, granting another memory of last night.
Kas kissing me.
His cock claiming me.
And just like that, I was wet and achy, and I had to see him. I couldn’t stand another minute alone, wondering if I was the only idiot who’d fallen in love last night or if he’d suffered the same life-altering affliction.
Slipping into a pair of stolen tennis shoes, wriggling my toes to ensure they wouldn’t pinch, I balled my hands and stormed from the bathroom and cut across the foyer. Sunlight shone from the skylight, little islands of shadow dotting the marble tile from the wildflower clumps above.
The gutters needed cleaning. The firewood needed gathering. The food needed prepping. So many tasks for winter that hadn’t meant anything to me before but now meant the world because no way in hell was I going to let Kas die on me.
If he said those tasks were urgent, then we would start them today. Right now. Together.
Full of nerves and jittery energy, I practically ran into the library.
And I slammed to a stop, surveying the carnage.
Oh, dear...
The plates I’d been carrying when I’d found Kas writhing on the floor, bellowing about snowflakes and someone named Levin, were smashed into pieces all over the place. The fried pieces of rabbit that I’d so painstakingly gutted, filleted, and rubbed in flour—a disgusting job and one I never wanted to repeat—were discarded where they’d landed. Spinach had smooshed into the carpet, leaving green stains in the richly dyed fabric. And the honey that I’d claimed from the rapidly dwindling supply in the pantry had oozed out of its ramekin and splattered up the wall.
Oh God, the wall.
Blood stained the intricate wallpaper with shreds hanging like tassels by the light switch. Kas’s howls of despair as he’d attacked it last night echoed in my ears. The absolute misery in his stare. The tears he’d shed. The look of dumbstruck awe as I’d sunk down upon him and felt, not like a woman who’d been taken against her will, but a woman who had the power to save someone who could become her everything.
Tears sprang to my eyes, despite my orders not to.
I love him.
It’s done.
Just yesterday, I still cursed the earth he walked upon. But now, I stood on that same earth and was thankful that he existed. That I’d found him before it was too late.
“It’s not fair,” I whispered to the room.
It wasn’t fair that he’d turned out to be so, so...perfect.
So wretchedly perfect all while being chained up with—
“You’re awake.” His voice licked over my skin, spinning me to face the doorway.
And the newness inside me, the spot that’d formed purely so I had room in which to love him, filled instantly with warm and gooey, sharp and savage need.
He’d changed from the soaking T-shirt and jeans of last night into a pair of gray shorts that’d seen better days and a black tee. His long hair kissed his shoulders, his scruff framed his mouth, and his eyes were still the same weathered, haunted indeterminate color that they’d always been, but something about him was different.
I was different.
I wanted him.
In every single way a female could want a male.
“I, eh—” I ran my hands over my hair, self-conscious and highly aware the strands were clean and fresh thanks to his attention last night. “Did you sleep okay?”