Page 37 of Twisted Redemption

“Got it.” A soft material settles around my shoulders. When Dominic drapes the blanket over my front, I realize my skin is covered in goosebumps, and I’m shivering. “You’re gonna be okay, Brooke.”

Dominic disappears into the house, and Blaze’s thumb starts stroking my cheek. I turn slightly, taking him in. He’s looking at me like I’m his lifeline. His will to live. Like he can’t stand the thought of losing me.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

He lets out a breath, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my forehead. And as his lips touch my skin, sending tendrils of warmth through my bloodstream, I remember.

His hands on me, my body begging for him, and the shame that came afterward.

He’s engaged.

He’s engaged and he hates you.

But right now, with his body so close to mine and concern—no, downright terror—shining in his eyes, it really doesn’t feel like it.

Instead, it feels like something far, far different.

And very, very wrong.

CHAPTER NINE

BLAZE

BROOKE’S PHYSICIAN COMES and goes, assuring me that she’ll recover in no time with rest. Thankfully, the cut on her head isn’t deep enough to need stitches. We just need to keep it clean, and Brooke can’t get her head wet for a couple days.

She doesn’t seem to mind, mumbling something sleepily about not washing her hair every day.

Dominic leaves after securing the house, but not before giving me a look that has the power of an hour-long lecture behind it.

Stay away from her.

She’s in enough danger.

Hurt her more, and I’ll fucking gut you.

But I barely give him more than a glance. I’m afraid that if I look away from Brooke for too long, she’ll wither away and disappear.

She’s doing better—forming coherent sentences and standing without swaying from side to side. I try to ignore the hurt in her eyes that’s returned full force.

Instead, I focus on the bruises forming on her body, and on the way she winces and holds her stomach whenever she breathes too deeply.

It adds to the deep-seated rage against David that I’ve been dealing with for the past few months. My chest burns with the feeling, but I don’t care.

Right now, all I care about is keeping Brooke safe.

She’s sitting on the couch while I make her some of her favorite tea. She finally stopped shivering a half hour ago, and now her eyelids are heavy with sleep. Every once in a while, she touches the daisy pendant that rests just below her collarbones, as if it’s giving her some type of comfort.

After setting the steaming mug on the coffee table, I sink onto the floor in front of her. She gives me a lazy smile, running her fingers through my hair. When she reaches the ends, her hand falls to rest on my chest.

I can see the moment she realizes what she’s done. Before she can react, I trap her hand there with my own. “Are you ready for bed?”

Her eyes widen, panic flashing in them, and she shakes her head.

I raise an eyebrow, watching her. It doesn’t even take ten seconds before she’s hiding a yawn behind her hand. “You need sleep.”

“Not yet.” Her voice wavers ever so slightly. She leans forward and picks up her mug, just to set it back down and shake her hand out.

I smile. She’s never been able to wait until it cools down enough. But when she glances out the windows nervously, my smile fades.

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