Page 83 of Cruel Promise

And then he nods—it’s barely imperceptible, but it’s there.

I shut the door on Edmund and Mrs. Brown, and the room plunges into darkness. After turning on a light, I sit next to Nikolai on the bed. It’s the first time we’ve ever been on a bed together. Because of the circumstances, I don’t feel nervous. This isn’t a sexual moment.

I grab an alcohol wipe from the first-aid kit and touch one of the cuts on his back. He hisses but doesn’t otherwise move. I place my hand on his back to steady me. He’s hot to the touch.

We’re quiet as I clean the blood off his back.

“Some of these will need stiches,” I finally say.

“Let them scar. I don’t care.”

I trace my fingers over an old scar across his shoulder blade. He shivers, and I’m not sure if that means he likes my touch or hates it. “Where did you get this one?”

“Some asshole stabbed me. Nothing else to tell.”

Finding another a scar on his lower back, I gently touch it. “This one?”

“Someone didn’t appreciate it when I came to collect money owed to me. A broken beer bottle. It was just a scratch.”

It doesn’t look like a scratch to me, but I don’t say that to him.

I place clean bandages over the cuts on his back so at least he’ll stop bleeding everywhere. Then I move around to stand before him. Awkwardly, I point at his chest. “I need to clean those, too.”

I reach my hand out to touch one of the cuts on his upper chest, but he grabs my wrist.

“I can do these myself.”

“I know you can.” I swallow hard. “But I want to help.”

His fingers splay around my wrist. They’re so large and strong. He could easily snap my wrist if he wanted.

After a moment, he lets go.

I sit back down on the bed and motion for him to angle his body toward me. Now that he can see me, I feel self-conscious tending to his wounds.

I can feel his heart beating fast as I cover a cut with a bandage over the area. “Are you nervous?” I whisper.

“No. Are you?”

“Yes.”

His eyes soften. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“So, then, why do you do things to make me afraid? Why did you lock me up?”

“Because I don’t want you to run anymore. I know it wasn’t a good thing to do. But I’m not?—”

“A good man,” I finish for him. “Trust me. I know. A good man would never have bought me.”

“It was the only way to get you.”

“Nik.” I’m not sure why I call him by that nickname. It’s so … intimate and yet it feels right. “You didn’t need to buy me to get me. You could have had any woman. All you needed to do was ask her out on a date. I’m sure a lot would have said yes.”

“You’re right. I could have. But I wanted you, and I saw an opportunity to take you. Was it wrong? Yes. Do I regret it? Not one bit.”

My hands tremble, and he catches them between his own. “Why do you do this to me?” I whisper. “Why do you make me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

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