Page 15 of Flame
“Bran had to go see a child psychologist after that because of me. I was almost put into foster care. My parents were mortified. I could have ruined his life—”
“Did he touch you?” Rafe demands.
I flinch at how earnestly he asks that question. “No! Not like that. Not—”
“You were a kid.” His anger startles me. I open my eyes to find him tense, his eyes darker than ever. “A kid who ran out of your housenaked.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I insist, shaking my head. “I was probably playing a game or something. I barely even remember—”
“And how many years later and the bastard beats you. He hides a camera in your fucking room. Shit, hewatchedyou naked!”
I cringe. “Stop making it sound like…”
“Like what? Like he may have molested you? That he’s still abusing you. Trust me, it’s not that hard to spell it out.”
I roll onto my side as if shielding my body from view can protect from his judgment. “Stop!”
But he’s too riled. Hissing, he brandishes a fist at nothing, his eyes flashing. “And your parents? They let you go around believing that shit? That you owe him because of what he did?”
“It’s not that simple,” I insist.
“Bullshit!” He strikes the mattress so hard I jump. “The fuck it’s not. And what about that story you wrote, huh? Deceiver? What the fuck is that about? Did he hurt someone in front of you?”
“Please stop,” I plead as my voice breaks. “I’ve never told anyone this.”
Because I know how it sounds—and I know what dark turn this story eventually takes.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I add. “To be chained to someone, and you can’t explain why. But it’s what it is.”
“Is it?” he snarls. “Why the fuck did you have a heart after his name in your phone then. Huh?”
I feel my cheeks flame as I choke out the answer, “Because it was one way to remind myself that despite everything he’s done… I shouldn’t hate him. I can’t hate him.”
“Fuck…” Rafe sighs, and some of the tension drains from his muscles. Judging from his tight expression, those words resonated with him more than I expected. Finally, he cocks his head at me, his gaze focused. “You said he tracked your phone?”
I nod, alarmed as he stands and crosses to his dresser, still naked. The dragon on his back ripples, coming to life as he wrenches open a drawer.
“Well, let’s give the fucker something to follow.” He tosses me a wad of fabric—another shirt. “Put it on,” he demands while stepping into a pair of jeans. By the time I remember how to move, he’s already storming into the living room. He grabs my phone from the coffee table and marches for the door, snatching something from a small hook hanging beside it on his way out.
“Wait!” I scramble into my sandals, grab my bag, and follow. “Where are you going?”
Rather than head for the shop's front, he exits from the back into the alley leading to the roof. This time, he heads to the street opposite the shop’s entrance. It’s a quieter block, mainly sporting a row of parked cars. The black one he approaches must be his.
“Get in,” he commands before claiming the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?” I ask, hesitating on the curb.
His answer is to slam the driver’s side door, leaving me no choice but to open the one nearest me. The interior is black leather, and while I’m not an expert on cars, I can tell that this one is expensive. Very expensive.
A meticulous level of cleanliness alludes to the care of its owner. Or a desire for control—Branden keeps his the same way.
“Get in,” Rafe demands, revving the engine.
Finally, I comply. “Fine. Where are we going?”
“Do you want to buy yourself more time?” He shoots me a searching glance I can’t decipher, and I remain silent even as he starts to drive.
Eventually, we reach the city’s outskirts, where the close-set buildings give way to sparser winding roads. Our final destination makes me do a double take.
