Page 95 of Dangerous Men
32
SEBASTIAN
Something isdifferent about Sydney today.
I watch her closely, obsessively, trying to figure outwhat it is. Trying to figure out what’s wrong with her.
It’s irritating that my brothers’ little obsession seems to be rubbing off on me. She’s so completely wrong for any of us, for our lifestyle. So fucking fragile. Alec and Ashton have found themselves a little glass doll and think they can play with her all they want without breaking her.
Still…
There are flashes of something more, and that’s what I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from. Brief moments, here and there, of something darker. And every time I think I’m kidding myself, I see something that makes me think that maybe—just maybe—she’s not as fragile as I originally thought.
And today, there’s something different about Sydney.
There’s a stiffness in the way she moves around the shop this morning, a hesitation before picking up a box that hasn’t been there before today. I devour her from afar, feasting on all her little movements.
Is she sick? I tap my fingers on the table and consider it. I haven’t spent enough time with her to track her full cycle yet. Maybe it’s cramps?
It’s not until she brings my lunch over, our odd little routine that I’ve come to rely on, that I get my answer.
I glance over when she sets the plate on my table, opening my mouth to thank her, when I spot her wrist.
I don’t even think. I reach out to grab her arm automatically, ignoring her quick intake of breath as I pull it closer, twisting it in the light.
Her wrist shows signs of bruising. Dull red and purple marks mottled around her delicate little wrist bones.
“Do you mind, asshole?” Sydney snaps, trying to yank herself out of my grasp. I don’t let go.
It’s an easy pattern to recognize when you’ve seen it before. You can make out where his fingers dug into her.
“Sterling?” I ask, voice devoid of emotion, inspecting them, admiring his work. I’m well aware they had a date last night. And he didn’t come back to the compound afterward. It’s safe to assume they finally fucked.
Maybe now his obsession with her will finally ease. Maybe now they’ll move on, and we can go back to the way things were. Go back to focusing on what matters. Like a potential dead man coming back to life.
My eyes slide up to her face, noting the blush on her cheeks. She nods quickly, just once.
Her pulse is rapid under my grip. Before I let go, I slide my thumb over her wrist, gently skimming it over the bruises he left there. Her skin is so smooth, so delicate. I’m not surprised she marks so easily.
I let her wrist drop and nudge the chair next to me with my foot.
“Sit,” I order.
She hesitates but does it, sinking into the chair without a word of protest.
Such a good girl, I think, swallowing the words before they slip out from between my lips. My mind flashes back to the Second Circle. To my fantasies about her. Fantasies I can’t seem to let go of.
I move my chair closer to her, leaning forward and gently brushing her hair off her shoulders.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks suspiciously, as I run my finger under her chin, tilting her head up and to the side.
“Looking for any other injuries,” I tell her, inspecting her neck. “Like any medical professional would.”
There are two, but they’re minor, barely even noticeable. One is likely a suck mark, a red aberration just below her right ear. The other is a barely discernible scratch, probably from a fingernail.
This close to her, it’s impossible not to notice when she swallows.
“You know he likes to…?” She stops before finishing the question, biting her lip.
