Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
It’s difficult to believe this scarred, scared man is the same one from a few hours ago, the man who claimed me and made me want more.
“I… have you,” he murmurs, eyes still glassy, not really there.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m here, Dom. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He blinks, a single tear sliding down his cheek. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss away the salty tear.
“There’s so much blood,” he whispers. “Too much. How–how is there so much…” He suddenly goes rigid, then takes a stumbling step backward. “Evie…”
“Are you awake?” I ask.
“What happened?” He grits his teeth as though he’s mad at himself. “Did I wake you?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“It’s a fucking joke.”
“Stop that. Now.” I grab his hands and stare into his eyes. “There’s no reason to be ashamed. You don’t have to downplay this. You don’t have to be tough all the time, Don.”
He groans and sits on the bed. I sit beside him, wrapping my arms around his waist and putting my cheek against his chest just like when we fell asleep. But unlike then, his heart is thundering, going what feels like a hundred beats per minute, a rapid-fire succession that’s like machine gun fire.
“I saw the photo of you and your team,” I murmur. “I could tell, even in the picture, you cared about them. That you all meant a lot to each other. If you weren’t suffering, you wouldn’t be human.”
“I don’t deserve it,” he snaps.
“What does that even mean? You’re a man, Dom, not a robot.”
“My buddies can’t suffer. They’re gone. And here I am, having night terrors like a little kid.”
“Stop,” I say fiercely. “I mean it. I don’t want to hear you talking that way about yourself. It’s not about what you do or don’t deserve. It’s about what’s happening.”
“I fucked up.” He leans down, putting his head in his hands. “I should’ve saved them. I should’ve done better. I can’t live with it. I close myself off, try to be cold, but since…”
“You can say it–since me. Since us.”
“I can’t be cold. But when I think of it, of them, I smell the blood and the gun smoke. I smell my shame.”
I move my face close to his, gently kissing his cheek. “Talking about it is a start, right? Have you ever talked about it before?”
“Only with you,” he says. “And even this feels wrong.”
“Wrong–how?”
He turns to me sharply.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say. “I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself with that tone, like you’re somehow less of a man for needing to let the darkness out.”
“It’s wrong because this isn’t who I’m supposed to be.” He places his hand on my leg, holds me tightly. Tingles dance up my thigh, but I ignore them. At least, I won’t let them distract me… too much. “I was a mafia prince. Then a soldier. Then nothing, a robot, a money-making machine. That’s who I am, who I was…”
“Not anymore,” I say.
“No, now I’m worse… Now I’m a kidnapper.”
I frown, looking down at my anklet. I can’t deny his words. I can soothe him about his nightmares, perhaps, but not about this.
“Wait here.” He stands.
“Where are you going?”
“Just wait – please.”
He strides toward the door. The moonlight bouncing off his taut muscles, his naked ass shifting as his manhood hangs between his legs. I want to chase him, to claw my fingernails down his back.
He adds the please as if I have a choice.
A few minutes later, he returns with a small key. He kneels at the edge of the bed and brings it to the anklet. I gasp, almost tell him to stop. If he removes the ankle monitor, there’s nothing keeping me here… except me.
With a click, he removes the device, then tosses it into the wastebasket.
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t want you to stay here against your will,” he grunts.
“But why now?”
“Because I’ve never talked about my time in the teams. Not with anybody, not ever. No one’s ever seen this side of me, and I want…” His eyes glisten. He angrily rubs his face.
I touch his wrist, move his hand away. “If you need to cry, cry.”
“I don’t need to cry,” he snaps.
“I won’t judge you.”
He shakes his head, visibly hardening himself. “I want to take what you’re offering, your help, your… affection.” The pause makes me think he was going to save love, which would be batshit, right? Right? “But not like this.” He gestures to the wastebasket: to the anklet.
“So, I can leave?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. The Vultures are out there. But I won’t keep you here. I want you to stay because you want to, not because you have to.”
“I… I’ll stay. Tonight.”
He sighs darkly. “Shall we go back to sleep?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
He climbs into bed. It feels so natural to be naked together, even when we’re not being intimate. “With you here, yes. Give me tonight, Keepsake. Tomorrow, if you decide you don’t want to stay, I’ll arrange for you to be reunited with your friend. You can go anywhere.”