Page 82 of Unhinged Cravings
“You found me,” I said, my voice so raw I could barely hear it.
“I promised I would protect you.” His eyes held such sadness. “I failed you, but I won’t fail you again.”
I reached my hand up to his cheek, seeing bandages over my knuckles and some of my fingers. The effort to hold it up was trying, and I was relieved when he took it and brought it to his mouth.
“You didn’t fail me,” I said, even though speaking hurt.
“You’re hurt,” he said, softly. “They hurt you, touched you, and I let that happen.”
Guilt twisted his features, making them harder.
“No, Emerson. You saved me.” I ran my finger over a cut on his cheek, eyeing the bruises on his face. “You fought for me, and you saved me.”
“But you’re still hurt, Ava,” he said, dropping his head. “Shh, go back to sleep.” He moved me against his chest, and I fought the heaviness of my eyes, losing my battle.
I blinkedmy eyes open again, this time without the heavy exhaustion that had weighed me down. Emerson was next to me, and as I moved toward him, he opened his eyes. A pained expression lined his features, and I wanted to remove it, knowing I was the cause.
“My life is dangerous, Ava.”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me that, why it mattered.
“I like danger,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek and kissing him. The kiss was so gentle, no sign of the aggressive manwho left bruises from his intensity. This man thought I was fragile now, and I hated that he did.
“How long have I been sleeping, Emerson?”
“Three days.” The regret in his voice was palpable.
His fingers pulled my hair forward.
“I told you I was a brunette,” I said, trying to make his grimace disappear.
“I miss the blonde and pink.” His thumb brushed over the side of my nose. “And the rhinestone.”
“All of them,” I said, frowning as I thought of what those assholes had done.
Eyes creasing further, he said, “All of them.” He knew. Knew they’d touched me to take my piercings out. Based on my clean skin, he must have bathed me when we returned. Another soft, sweet side to a man who had killed for me.
Stretching, I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and waiting for my head to stop spinning. I felt like I’d been sleeping for days. But then again, I had.
“Careful,” he said and his hand came to my back. “Let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom and…” I brought my hand to my mouth and breathed. “…find a toothbrush.”
He chuckled, telling me there was one in the bathroom for me as I stood, ignoring the wobbling in my legs. My knees ached as the scabs on my cuts stretched, and my walk across the room was slow. By the time I peed and brushed my teeth, I felt human again. Taming my unruly hair proved futile, so I gave up and returned to the bed where Emerson was lying in the same spot, his hand behind his head, waiting for me.
Fully awake after so many days of rest, I climbed onto him, sitting on his chest and ignoring the slight discomfort in my knees. His shirt was off, and a bandage was on his shoulder. My fingers traced the bandage edge, hating that he’d been hurt.Between the bruises on his face and this, I knew it had been a fight to the death to save me. He brought his hands to my waist, tentatively, like he was afraid to touch me.
“Did you kill them all?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I captured his bottom lip, dragging my teeth over it. “Torture the ones who took me?”
A twitch of his lips and he said, “Still torturing. I expect they might bleed to death before I remove any more parts, but maybe another day or so of suffering before I send them to hell.”
I lifted the T-shirt he must have put on me, watching his eyes light, then dim when I threw it aside.
“My therapist once told me to find ways to distract myself from my terrible memories,” I said, bringing his hands to my breasts. “I think it’s time for distraction, Emerson.”
