Page 22 of Ring Of Truth

I make a break for the bathroom to vomit, but Darragh grabs me.

“No, you don’t!” he shouts like I’m going to jump out the window.

I slip from his hold, but he’s close on my heels as I dart into the bathroom.

“Get out!” I yell and drop to the floor, hurling into the toilet.

Now that I’m out of Cormac’s clutches and not fighting for survival, I find my voice, my strength, even if it’s a sliver.

“Christ.” Darragh stands over me, cursing under his breath.

Next, the water is running, and he hands me a cup.

“Drink this, Stasia.”

I gulp it down, and then try to melt against the wall so he’ll leave me alone.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” I utter.

“I’m taking care of the mess my brother made.”

Mess. That’s me. I’d like to argue, but I’m wearing a prison jumpsuit with my stomach hanging out.

I stand and start to shake. The more I talk, the angrier he seems.

Gripping the vanity, so I don’t fall, I feel hands on my waist. The contact shocks me from not being touched in so long, but dread pools in my stomach.

“Don’t touch me,” I say through clenched teeth.

“I know I look like Cormac, but I’m not him,” Darragh murmurs, then stomps into the main room.

I wobble to the doorway to see him opening drawers while cursing and slamming them because Cormac’s stuff is filthy and torn.

“I… I keep my clothes in that nightstand.” I think back to the moment when I emptied my expensive white and saddle brown suitcase and left Astoria with nothing. “I don’t have a suitcase.”

Darragh walks to the closet with confidence and purpose. His long legs in sharply pressed trousers of an expensive suit spark another wave of arousal.

I’ve heard pregnancy makes a woman ravenous for sex. Those feelings never came.

Thank goodness, because I didn’t want Cormac to touch me ever again.

Darragh grabs the leather duffle bag Cormac refused to sell.

“I bought him this,” he remarks with a bitter giggle.

My hormones wake up, watching Darragh deftly pack up my meager wardrobe out of the broken nightstand.

“Let me.” I reach inside and our arms tangle.

He’s so warm, and his hands feel so strong, but he snaps them back. With his eyes boring into mine, a flicker in my chest startles me.

“I… I can wear this.” I yank out an XXL dress Cormac bought me from a street vendor.

It’s ugly as sin, and the fabric itches, so I don’t wear it often.

Sliding into oversized sweats and a giant, stained T-shirt is too humiliating.

“Can you… Can you just give me a few hundred dollars?” I ask Darragh softly. “I’ll figure out a way to pay you back.”

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