Page 27 of Damaged

It was the latter part that had kept me awake for hours after I’d left a sleeping Dalton in his bed and found my way to the other bedroom. Although calling the room a bedroom was a stretch. There’d been nothing more than a bed with a small side table and lamp. Literally nothing more. The closet had been empty, the walls free of any pictures or paintings, and the wood floors had no shine to them. There’d been nothing in the room that had given me any idea of Dalton, the man.

Ivan’s house had been a collection of gleaming marble, pristine white walls, expensive paintings with little lights above them to accentuate their value, and priceless vases, statues, and other works of art. It had been a perfect representation of what Ivan had wanted the world to see. Successful, wealthy, untouchable businessman. But the back part of the house—the part that could only be accessed by a short, innocuous carpeted hallway and simple, always locked white door—had been Ivan’s true showpiece. Hidden behind that door had been a dozen closed-off bedrooms. Each thick, decorative wooden door had opened to a different kind of room, ranging from soft and luxurious to dark and dungeonlike. Those rooms had included various pieces of odd-looking equipment rather than beds.

I’d been in each room and had experienced most of the “toys,” as Ivan’s men had liked to call them. It had usually been when Ivan had been in a particularly cruel mood, and it hadn’t mattered if the room looked like the most extravagant of bedrooms or the darkest of prison cells, they’d all held pieces of Ivan’s true nature in them.

They hadn’t been the only rooms in that part of the house, though. There’d been another set of them in the basement. I’d seen those rooms too. They’d been more proof of Ivan’s depravity and inhumanity. Behind each of those doors had been nothing but a stained mattress covered with a thin blanket, a toilet and sink, and not much else.

Except for the women.

There’d nearly always been one in each of the dozen rooms. None of the rooms had ever been empty for long. Maggie had given birth to her beautiful daughter on one of those disgusting mattresses…

“Silver?”

The sound of my name being spoken softly next to me ripped me from my daze and as I tried to escape it and all the memories of what had happened in that ugly house, the blanket I’d so carefully wrapped myself up in prevented me from catching myself as I tried to jump out of the chair. Strong hands grabbed me mid-fall.

Familiar hands.

“Dalton?” I asked, even though I knew that was who was keeping me sitting on the chair instead of face-planting on the floor.

“It’s me,” he murmured. “I need you to try and slow your breathing, okay?”

My breathing?

What was wrong with my breathing?

My muddled mind began to clear as I remembered where I was and what had led me down the rabbit hole that was my past. I’d been thinking about the night before and how Dalton’s second bedroom hadn’t told me anything about the man. I’d still been awake as the sun had come through the one window in the room. That was why I’d been able to hear the evidence of Dalton’s nightmare.

“I’m fine,” I said with a nod. “Just…” I began to add but I couldn’t form the words.

“Not seeing me?” Dalton supplied.

I couldn’t help but smile and nod again. “Ghosts,” I said. “Just lots of… ghosts.”

Dalton’s chuckle as he released me and rose from where he’d been crouching next to me made my body go all warm inside.

“They’ll be in good company here,” he said.

Although the topic should have been a dark one, it somehow felt light. Easy.

This was him… the real Dalton. The one who’d pressed me against his SUV and kissed me. The one who’d turned his back to me on a busy road to reassure me that I had complete privacy as I’d changed out of my wet clothes and into his sweats in the back seat of his vehicle.

“How is your throat feeling?” Dalton asked as he checked the ice pack around my neck.

“Two,” I said.

I shivered when a rough finger gently slid over the skin between the ice pack and the underside of my chin. I could feel the goose bumps on my arms at the simple contact.

“Do you want me to take this off or do you want it on a bit longer?” Dalton asked as he repeated the move. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my cheek against his palm. God, what was happening to me? Was this what it was supposed to feel like when…?

“Silver?”

The man had to say my name two more times before I could croak out, “Off.” I missed his touch the second he removed his hand from my cheek but thankfully, those damn goose bumps were going away.

The relief lasted about two seconds because the moment Dalton grazed his fingers over the back of my neck right above the ice pack, heat engulfed me and it was all I could do to remain silent as a shiver of sensation raced up my spine.

The sound of the ice pack being undone made me want to laugh and cry. “Velcro,” I whispered with a harsh laugh as I recognized the sound of the two pieces of material holding the ice pack in place being pulled apart.

“What?” Dalton asked as he eased the ice pack from my neck.

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