Page 8 of Savage Ruin
Tinkling laughter wakes me.Confused, I tense, waiting for the happy sound to return, but when I don’t hear anything, my body relaxes, and my eyes drift closed again. The laugh returns, but this time, I force myself to wake up and listen. It’s Mateo and Henley. I get up to go find them.
She’s sitting at the dining room table with a pile of t-shirts in front of her when I walk through the patio door.
“This is plenty, I promise,” she protests, her arm wrapped around her chest while she laughs. “I’m hoping I’ll be able to wear my own clothes soon. Although I do like your taste in t-shirts. They’re brainy and nerdy. Perfect.”
“Thanks, but some of them…”
Grayson interjects. “Some of them are really old. Maybe you’ll spill something on them, and we’ll be able to get rid of a few.” He pauses when he spots me. “Is everyone ready to eat?”
“Did you clear out your whole closet?” I tease Mateo, but the gleam in his eye tells me he’s not the least embarrassed.
“Does everyone have something to drink?” Grayson calls out, setting a vegetable dish on the table. “Mateo, can you put those in Henley’s room? Thiago, would you mind setting the table?”
I follow him back to the kitchen to grab plates and utensils. “Interesting to see a few of your t-shirts in the pile, too. Why didn’t you let Mateo tell her?”
“It’s nothing. Just a couple of old shirts,” he snaps. Picking up a plate of ribs and a bowl of salad, he heads back to the dining table.
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” I mutter under my breath.
Although, I certainly understand the appeal. Seeing her at the dining table, in my t-shirt, her bright pink hair tousled from sleep, with those tight little nipples saluting me through the cotton, I could easily forget myself.
An impatient sigh comes from my right. Grayson reaches out and takes the plates and silverware from me to set the table himself. I hold back the snarl rising to the surface and rub a hand down my face to smooth my expression before following him.
After setting everything down, he fills the last plate in his hand with food and sets it in front of Henley.
“Everyone, sit. Eat,” he demands, picking up his own plate.
“It’s so good. Where did you learn to cook?” Henley asks Grayson after taking a bite.
We all three tense.
His voice is strained when he replies. “Something I picked up when I was a child.”
“I’m impressed,” Henley teases him, but her smile falters when she sees his vacant stare. Her eyes dart to mine with a question, but I subtly shake my head.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Henley while we wait for Grayson to return from the past.
“Tired. I slept all afternoon and I’m still tired,” she admits, with an embarrassed laugh.
“It’s to be expected,” Mateo informs her and points to his head. “I still get tired, and it’s been almost three weeks. It takes time to heal.”
“Can I see it?”
He shoves his hair out of the way to show her the ugly scar on his forehead. The bright colorful bruising has faded, but the dark pink scar remains. He had the stitches removed while Henley was in the hospital.
“Sexy,” she says jokingly, but the hitch in her voice tells me she finds his scar disturbing. “Although I could have done without the terrifying ride in the middle of the night and the brush of death it took to get it.”
I shudder when I think of how close he came to dying. If Diego had succeeded in either of his plans, our table would be a devastatingly lonely place tonight. When I glance at Grayson, his pale face reflects my thoughts.
CHAPTER5
HENLEY
Brutal fists slam down on my face and body over and over. I try to roll away, but there’s no escape. Pain radiates with every blow. If I could only get my hands free… but they’re trapped beneath me, useless and numb. A strangled scream erupts from my throat.
“Henley, querida, you’re safe. He’s not here,” a strong voice states firmly, reaching into the dark to find me. “Diego’s gone. Forever. I promise. He can’t hurt you again.” He repeats the same words over and over.
The nightmare recedes, but the fear remains. I open my eyes to scan the room for his ugly face, but he’s not here. There is only Thiago holding me, his voice low and steady, repeating his message of assurance while his fingers softly stroke my face.
