Page 38 of Ravaged
I shrugged. “I’m just pointing out what you already knew, but didn’t want to admit.”
“Why the hell did I even speak up?” he muttered. He turned on his side again.
“Wait,” I said, patting his shoulder, reaching over with the slack that I could. “It is messed up. It’s not fair that you’ve been waiting all of this time to move here, while Derek automatically thinks he’s next in line for the position of leader,” I tried. Ethan hesitated. “It’s beyond crappy.”
“He kept us in New Mexico so we’d be out of sight.”
“Now, that I can relate to,” I said. “Do you know how many times I’ve been out of the Dahlia District since I started seven years ago?” He stared at me, blinking. “Fewer times than I can count on one hand.”
He closed his eyes, heavy with agitation. “Your father is a piece of shit.”
“And so is yours,” I said. “But we can’t let their choices define us.”
He softened then. Just because my dad had sold me into sex slavery, didn’t mean that a sex slave was all that I was. It might have been in my nature to seek a man’s companionship like a blanket in cold weather, but I was also a musician. An optimist. A friend. I was so much more than the Dahlia District gave me credit for.
And Ethan was more than an Adler. He had to see that for himself.
“How would you define me?” he asked.
In the shadows, his asphalt eyes reflected nothing back. The dark hair. His strong jaw. So much of him was like his father, but his eyes were flecked with hints of a past that haunted him. The way he pushed and pulled with himself, needing my touch, then resisting it, pushing me away at every chance. Then choosing time and time again to seek me out himself, because he didn’t trust the others to do it.
Because he wanted to protect me. Ethan felt responsible for my care.
“You’re a protector by nature,” I said. Those words felt right. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but you know the importance of working for what you want.” His gaze stayed steady. I hadn’t offended him yet. “In other words, you know you can’t—” I paused, what was the correct word? “—force your way into the spotlight.”
“Killing Derek wouldn’t get me what I’m looking for.”
“Exactly. You’ve got to wiggle yourself in.”
He furrowed his brows. “How do you get that much from what you know about me?”
I shrugged. “When you work in the business I do, you learn to read people. You learn to listen.”
He waited for a moment, watching me. Then he went to the foot of the bed and unlocked the chain. My ankles and wrists were still cuffed, but I was no longer tethered to the bed.
He slipped into the flat sheet. “The floor is too cold.”
I smiled. “I’ve got personal experience that this whole house gets cold at night. Even the basement.”
“You’re the one with the comforter.”
I laughed and picked it up off of the floor. He might not have invited me into his bed, but he didn’t say I couldn’t join him. But still, I was hesitant. I sat on the edge of the bed, the chains between my ankles clinking together. It wasn’t an outright declaration of his emotions, but it was something. Ethan wasn’t the kind to emote, but letting me come near him like that, it was a step. Warmth filled me.
I tucked my legs inside of the sheet and shimmied down, then adjusted the comforter over us, making sure Ethan was covered too. I stretched my legs—it was comfortable, must have been memory foam—but then again, anything was better than a cold, concrete floor. My feet skimmed his calf. I did it on purpose; I wanted the comfort of his body. His heat.
But he didn’t want that. He turned on his side again, facing away from me. I wasn’t going to force him to cuddle me. Because at least I was in his bed. At least he was willing to share his space with me.
“Goodnight, Ethan,” I said.
A few seconds passed, and his breathing mellowed. I closed my eyes and sighed. Right before I drifted off, his fingers grazed my cheek.
“Night, Tea,” he said.
