Page 55 of Wreck Me

What the hell did that mean?

A sharp beeping alert coming from my phone pulled me from that thought path—and his manipulative assholery—and I looked to see the motion sensors I’d placed in one of the guestrooms had just registered some movement. Stirrings, really. It was still enough for me to need to react, though.

I slid my phone into the inside pocket of my aviator jacket, then headed off the back porch, back into the kitchen, then made my way through the mansion toward the spiral staircase.

I took the steps two at a time, then hurried down the corridor until I reached the last door on the right.

I opened the door to the guestroom, the lamp in the corner I’d left on so I could assess the situation quickly if I’d needed to burst on in here, providing enough illumination for me to see our impromptu guest still tucked up in the crimson silk sheets, that wild blue and silver hair clashing with the same shade of the pillow cases as it fanned out all over.

She was stirring, though.

Soft little groans spilled from her lips as she clearly started to rouse awake.

Skylar Bennett was in our home.

We’d had little choice after Bastian had literally fucked her into unconsciousness last night.

Taking her back to her parents’ home would’ve invited way too many questions, not to mention, major suspicion. I was sure the smell of blood and sex and Bastian’s cum all over her wouldn’t have gone over too well either.

Normally, we wouldn’t care about that shit.

But her father wasn’t somebody Caspian wanted us crossing.

I settled myself onto the rolling armchair across from the bed situated under the window as I watched her.

She wasn’t sleeping peacefully, that was for damn sure.

Aside from the increasingly forceful stirring, her face was scrunched up tight, her pouty lips pulled into what was almost a snarl.

As she moved more in the throes of some sort of disturbing sleep, the covers pushed down, uncovering her upper half revealing her clad in just one of my white short-sleeved tees. It was huge on her little compact body, coming down to the tops of her thighs. I noted that the bandage wrapped around her left arm where that fucker had stabbed her was still holding well, no sign of blood seeping through. I’d managed to stop it after all. All the blood was wiped clean too, something Bastian hadn’t exactly helped with. I knew it had been his handiwork spreading all that over her skin. Well, it was our thing, all three of us. We all went in for that.

Her skin was still marred by Bastian’s marks, though. Her throat and chest were a canvas of bruises, scratches and even bite marks. I winced, more evidence of his loss of control last night.

There was something else, something that was now hidden by my shirt. But last night in just her sports bra during the fight, they’d been on display. Scars all over her lower back and her upper left arm too, raised angry red flesh. I’d asked Bastian about them, because he’d spent more time with her, but he’d had no answers to give, he had no clue how they’d come about either.

She stilled all of a sudden.

And then her eyes popped open, those emerald-green pools shining through the dimly lit room like beacons.

She bolted upright with a startled gasp as she took in the bed and realized it wasn’t her own. It had the covers slipping all the way down, baring her completely. I saw her wince and squeeze her thighs together.

Yeah, I wasn’t surprised. Bastian had clearly fucked her raw.

He’d been so freaked out that he’d even admitted to me that he’d come inside her.

Jesus Christ.

That was why the morning-after pill now sat beside a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the nightstand right next to the bed.

At least I knew he was clean.

She was too, although I wasn’t gonna bring that up, given how Cas had come to know that and the reason behind her freaked-out visit to a clinic near Vista Ridge.

Her eyes landed on me and she snatched up the covers and shoved them against her chest, eyes wide. “What the… why am I… is this your place?”

I sat forward on the chair, clasping my hands between my knees. “Mine and Bastian’s, yes.”

“I don’t… why am I here?”

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