Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“It’s dangerous—”
“I don’t care,” I interrupt. “It’s not going to be worse for me than it is for those poor women and girls.”
Julian sighs. “If we do this, we’ll need a plan. We’ll need to know where their other locations are.”
Damian shakes his head. “That was the only place I knew about.”
My brother clicks his teeth together. “It’s getting late. Let’s focus on the next few hours. We’ll sleep in shifts while we keep watch. If the mob arrives and starts shooting, Celine, you hide. We’ll fight.” He returns to the window. “I’ll keep first watch.”
“Are you sure?” Damian asks. “I don’t min—”
“Shower. Rest. Recover.” Julian’s tone is firm. “We’re going to need all the energy we can get.”
I walk into the steam-filled bathroom. Damian kneels beside the tub, putting his hand into the water, testing its temperature. He looks up at me, blood still splattered across his face, wild and brutal and somehow still handsome.
“I want it hot,” I tell him. “I want to burn this day away.”
I turn away from him and begin peeling my clothes off. A moment later, he walks up beside me, his powerful hands carefully helping me to remove my clothes. When he takes off my shirt, everything in me tightens. He sees my scar.
“I fell into a greenhouse as a kid,” I tell him.
He gently traces the lines of my scar with his finger, with the same hand that snapped a man’s neck for daring to touch me. It’s difficult to believe this is the same man as he gently caresses me.
“I’ve always been self-conscious about it.” I laugh nervously. “It seems silly now.”
“It’s part of you,” he whispers huskily. “Which means it’s beautiful.”
He takes a step back, a shuddering noise escaping him.
I turn to find the reason: his hardness pressing through his pants. He sees me looking and laughs savagely. “I know, Celine. Inappropriate as hell. I can’t seem to control myself around you.”
I bite my lip. It’s crazy. Even now, with a panic attack constantly hovering at my periphery, part of me wants him badly.
I look down: at the floor… at where Julian would be if we could see him. Damian doesn’t need me to say anything.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks.
Yes.
More than anything.
But I’m afraid of what we’ll do if he stays here. I’m afraid I’ll ask him to join me, and we won’t be able to stop, with Julian downstairs, with so much still up in the air.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him. “You need to rest too.”
“Are you sure?”
No, not even close.
I want him to climb into the tub with me and wrap his arms around me.
“Yes,” I lie.
Once he’s gone – after giving me a reluctant look – I climb into the tub and close my eyes, trying to forget.
After the bath, I towel off and put on the bathrobe he’s left for me, tying it tightly around my waist. I’m tired, but the idea of sleeping alone terrifies me. So I go downstairs and join Julian.
He’s pulled a chair close to the window, with a rifle leaning against the wall.
He looks at me, registers I’m in the robe, then says nothing.
“Anything?” I ask, sitting on the couch.
“No. Just Christmas decorations. Just people living their lives.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Good.”
We don’t say anything for a long time. Then Julian whispers, “I’m so happy you’re okay, Celine. God. I can’t even…” He shudders. “And Damian–he’s different. You’ve changed him. I’ve never seen like he is with you, caring and loving and… like he wants to participate in life instead of just watch it go by.”
Sparkles shimmer inside of me, but I don’t let myself get overexcited. This is very different from an approval.
“I’m going to lie down here,” I whisper. “If you don’t mind?”
He turns, smiles tightly at me. “I love you, Celine.”
“I love you too.”
I lie down, knees to my chest as though to protect myself. I don’t mean to fall asleep when I close my eyes. I drift in and out, vaguely aware of Julian kissing me on the forehead and telling me he loves me again.
When I wake up, it’s still nighttime, the room dark except for a single lamp making the snow globes and the decorations glimmer. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Damian now sits at the window, hunched over in his tank top, his back muscles bulging and thick. He looks at me, his mouth tight, his eyes widening and flitting to my thighs as if he can’t help himself. He swallows and turns back to the window.
“You can go back to sleep,” he says softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I sit up, adjusting the robe. “Any sign of them?” I ask.
“No,” he says huskily. “If there was, we wouldn’t be talking.”
“Thank you, Damian.”
“Thank you?” he repeats, looking at me strangely. “You don’t need to thank me for what we did.”