Page 5 of Protected By the Wolven

I weigh which is more important, her physical comfort or her belief that she can call the shots about her own body. After abrief internal argument, I give up, allowing her to see that she has power in this relationship.

I offer her a shower, which she declines, and some food, which she also declines. She must be starving, so despite her protests, I make her a sandwich and deliver it to her where she’s taken up residence on the couch.

At this, she doesn’t argue. She wolfs it down so fast that I hurry to make her another.

After handing her the second sandwich, a blanket, and one of my t-shirts to sleep in, I put a towel and washcloth out for her in my tiny bathroom. When I enter my bedroom, I’m wracked with guilt that I didn’t convince her to take the bed.

Only moments after I close the door, a dozen thoughts hit me. I return to the main room only to see her stark naked except for her panties as she pulls my t-shirt over her head.

I freeze in place, my breath catching in my throat, my heartbeat quickening as I take in her perfect form. Her body is too thin, yet still retains enough curves to be completely feminine.

She turns her head toward me and sees me watching her, our eyes locking for a brief moment before she yelps and looks away, a blush staining her cheeks. I swallow hard and whirl around to return to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

“Sorry!” I call through the door. “I just wanted to…” It will probably freak her out more if I tell her I wanted to make sure she didn’t have a cell phone. That’s one way Max could track her.He could find her within minutes. I also thought she should take pictures of her bruises and her puffy lips. We might need that evidence when we go to the authorities.

As I wait for my thoughts to calm down and process what just happened, I can’t help but replay the image of her undressing accompanied by my memory of the soft rustle of fabric as she wriggled into my shirt.

Damn! I brought her here to keep her safe. Peeping on her, terrifying her with my attraction wasn’t what either of us signed up for. It’s just that I urgently wanted to make sure she couldn’t be tracked here, that I could protect her.

Part of me wants to retreat to my bed, climb under the covers, and take care of the raging hard-on I have from that swift glimpse of Zoya’s pale, naked skin. But she knows I got a glimpse of her and her panic is probably ramping. I have to find a way to make this right.

“Zoya? Are you dressed?” Four simple words. How hard would it have been to ask that a minute ago?

“Yes.”

“Can I come out of my room? I just…”

“Yes.”

She’s under the blanket I gave her. It’s pulled up to her chin. Shit. Does she have to be so beautiful?

“I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to… There was something urgent.”

She nods. Maybe she hears the sincerity of my apology.

“I should have asked downstairs. Do you have a phone? Because Max could easily trace you.”

“No. No phone. He said I didn’t need one.”

“Yeah. Of course. Another way to control you.”

“Yes.”

I wish she’d talk more. I love the cadence of her accent, the melody and flow of her words.

“And I was thinking we should take pictures of your bruises as soon as possible. Document the abuse. I’m no lawyer, but I imagine it will help your case with the immigration authorities.”

“Now?”

“Actually, yeah. It seems like every minute they fade makes them look less… abusive. I know it must seem intrusive. But I want to make your case strong. I don’t want you to be in trouble because none of this is your fault.”

There’s that squeeze and pang in my chest again. It’s the physical embodiment of my need to care for this woman I barely met.

“Okay. You take pictures.”

When she stands, I’m happy to see that, just as I thought, my tee covers her almost to her knees.

After grabbing my phone, I step close enough to get pictures of her face, including close-ups of the puffy lip and the bruise on her cheekbone that has bloomed bluer in the short time I’ve known her.

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