Page 27 of Possessive Vows

I don’t even know why I’m crying. My jumbled emotions give me no answers, and neither do my swimming thoughts.

He lost a child and a wife. All this time, I’ve been mourning things I only had distant dreams for, but he had people he loved stolen away from him. It’s tragic and unfair.

I shouldn’t care about his woes. Maybe I’m just raw from admitting how disgusting I am. I’ve never said the word rape out loud before or told anyone about that night. I may not have told him everything, but why did he have to be the person I made myself so vulnerable to?

I hate it. I should hate him.

But I can’t. He’s been so gentle and kind to me. My broken desperation probably made me look deeper into it than I realized.

I angrily wipe my tears and nearly lose it again as I brush the scars on my cheek, but I ball my hands into fists and create a small gap in the blankets to breathe through as I replay my mantra in my head.

I am safe. I am alive. I am loved. I am healing.

Despite already sleeping better today than I have since the attack, exhaustion sucks me down into a deep slumber. When my nightmares inevitably return, a dark, smooth voice leads me away from the monsters, and I escape their grasps into a lake of peace.

I rise like a diver breaking the surface, gasping for breath and disoriented. My entire body shakes from the sudden change, and I bite back a groan as my pain receptors wake, overloading my brain with sensations. The constant ache in my joints and emptiness in my abdomen plague me, but I shove them to the recesses of my mind knowing there is nothing I’m willing to do to alleviate the pain, since I refuse to admit how horrible they are.

The coffee machine gurgles beside the sink. Early morning light leaks in from under the curtains. Dimitri sits in the only usable chair, sipping out of a disposable cup. He glances down at the steaming liquid and grimaces but takes another drink.

I scrub my hands over my face before swinging my feet to the floor and stumbling into the bathroom. When I shuffle out to wash my hands in the sink, I avoid looking at my reflection until after I splash water on my face.

I trace the outline left by the bandage and realize I never applied makeup after showering. Discomfort flows through me.

After running my wet hands through my hair and securing it in a messy ponytail, I dry my face with a few paper towels, open my purse, and don my armor, but my normal relief at covering the scars doesn’t rise. Without even interacting with him, my fallen guardian angel invades my thoughts.

He demands I marry him, but he doesn’t know I can’t give him what he wants. Grief may swamp him now, but he’ll want children eventually.

He’ll grow to resent me when he learns the truth, and if just the thought of him hating me sours my mood, then I should stay far away from him.

“When are we meeting my brother?” I ask as I finish my eyeliner.

“In a few hours,” he answers.

My stomach flips as his smooth voice curls around my insides and fills me with warmth. I focus on applying mascara.

“When are we leaving?” I ask.

“Whenever you are ready,” he rumbles.

I close my eyes and screw the lid back onto my mascara, telling myself to get it together, but my libido insists on waking.

“Is this coffee for me?” I ask as I pull my lip liner from my purse.

“Da,but I can make you tea if you prefer,” he all but purrs.

My fingers shake as I bring the pencil to my lips. I take a deep breath and lean closer to the mirror.

His hungry eyes drink me in from across the room. He lifts his gaze to mine in the mirror, unapologetic and honest in his desires but making no move to act on them.

Flames roar from my toes to the top of my head, the flash of lust so strong, I wonder if I’ve ever known true arousal before.

My pupils dilate in my reflection. I sweep skeptical eyes over myself and scoff. Wearing sweats with my hair in a messy ponytail and my lips unpainted, I look far from appealing.

Maybe he just hasn’t been around a woman since his wife died, so hethinkshe’s attracted to me when he really isn’t. He’ll move on the moment he finds someone prettier.

Cold fury spears through me.

I apply my lip liner with steady hands.

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