Trinity kissed the top of her head. “Wealldo, sweetheart.”
Yes. They did.
Kiyomi frowned, thinking. “Orphans are too vulnerable. Especially young girls. More needs to be done to protect them.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
There must be something Kiyomi could do to make a difference. Help protect them from exploitation. Maybe when this was all over…
She blew out a breath, setting the thought aside. There was so much shit left to be dealt with before she could think about anything else.
They lay there for another few minutes, then Kiyomi gathered the remainder of her waning energy and sat up. “Okay. I’m ready to get outta here now.” She stood, righted the chair she’d knocked over and paused to look at the empty one, imagining teenage Kiyomi sitting there watching her.
We’re going to be okay, Kiyomi told her silently.I’ll make sure of it.
She grabbed her journal and pen before leaving the room. At the bottom of the stairs she and Trinity stepped into the stables, the sweet, dusty scent of hay and horses greeting them. Trinity looped an arm across her shoulders. “You did good, kid.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t pretty, but it was worth it. Thank you for being there.”
“Good. And you’re welcome. I’ll always be there for you.”
The vow squeezed her heart.
Together they stepped out into the bright fall sunshine. Kiyomi froze when she saw Marcus coming up the path with Karas limping after him. Their gazes met from about thirty yards apart, and her muscles tensed.
Oh, shit, whynow?
His dark brows crashed together as he stared at her, concern filling his expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. All she’d wanted was to get back into the house unseen, and here she’d had to run right into the object of all her fantasies.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Trinity said, her hand solid on Kiyomi’s shoulder.
Kiyomi eased out from under Trinity’s arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured to her friend. “You can go.”
Trin eyed her. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll be around if you need me.”
Kiyomi nodded, her eyes on Marcus as Trinity walked off toward the house. She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, knowing she looked a mess but there was no help for it.
Marcus walked up and stopped in front of her, his eyes searching hers, that worried frown still in place. “What happened?”
“I had a really intense therapy session I’d been dreading for a while, that’s all.” She shrugged, gave him a wry smile. “But I survived.”
He lifted a hand toward her, paused for a moment as if he thought better of it, then warmth burst through her when his palm cradled the side of her cheek. His gaze swept over her face, taking in her blotchy skin and swollen eyes. With a low sound he dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his broad, hard chest.
She sucked in a sharp breath as all her senses came to life. She leaned into him, closed her sore eyes and rested her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, feeling like she was dreaming. Floating. Because this couldn’t be real. Marcus couldn’t really be holding her the way she’d been imagining.
“Brave lass,” he murmured in his deep, Yorkshire accent. His tone and words warmed her like a fire on a cold winter’s night.
God he felt incredible, the raw strength of his arms making her feel protected and cherished. Safe in a way she never had before. Because she knew that this man would stand between her and any threat if she’d let him.
The thought gave her pause.
She’d been trained to be a man’s fantasy, whatever that may be. It was easy for her to figure out what they wanted, and in order to get what she wanted, she gave it to them. While she was being intimate with someone, she shut down inside, disassociated from the physical part.