Page 9 of Dove

Kincaid

Maddox’s intense gaze never left me as he stripped off all his clothes. My eyes tracked down his body. Taking in the way his hair curled on his forehead and the handsome plains of his face. I’d always thought he was too beautiful. A predator designed to lure his prey.

Hard muscles covered his chest and arms. Leading down to the perfect ridges of his six-pack and the V cut that pointed straight to his thick cock. My breath caught in my lungs as my core clenched.

I was surprised I could feel anything besides bone-deep exhaustion and fear. But that was the power Maddox had over me. I’d always chosen him over sense and reason.

Slowly without causing any pain, he removed the IV from my arm. He stripped off the borrowed jacket and blankets before scooping me into his embrace. I rested my head against his chest, absorbing his warmth and safety as he carried me. At this moment, I never wanted to be anywhere else but in his arms.

It was foolish. It was the illusion of safety. I would never be safe with him. From him. Or the people who would use me against him. From myself and the depraved desire, I felt for him. But I was willing to allow myself the comfort because I needed it. Needed to pretend, if even for a moment, that I would be okay. That he might actually care for me. That I might survive him.

He stepped into the giant tub with me still cradled in his hold. I hissed as the warm water touched my cold skin. It burned and ached as it covered my body.

Maddox was careful to keep my hand, that had a splint and brace, out of the water as he adjusted me until I sat between his spread thighs. My head rested back on his chest; his arms wrapped around me. He’d held me like this many times before while we were in bed. I let myself fall into the familiar pattern even as questions plagued my mind.

“Henry?” I asked. I had an image of him lying in a pool of blood. I needed to know if I was the reason he was dead. If I would carry that stain on my soul forever.

“Lost part of his ear. A bullet clipped his scalp.” I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if he had died. “He’ll live. For now.”

“Maddox.” I tried to turn in his hold, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, I tilted my head back until I could look at him. “Don’t do anything. It wasn’t his fault. He tried to save me. He took a bullet for me.”

“It was a flesh wound.” He grumbled. “I’d take one for you right here.” He intertwined our fingers and brought them to his chest directly above his heart.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt the rapid beat of his pulse. My eyes flicked to his. The deep blue swarmed with emotions I’d never seen on him. Emotions I hadn’t thought he was capable of. I could sense his fear and unease. It unsettled me because Maddox was never afraid.

“I’m okay.” I whispered before bringing our hands to my heart. “I’m right here.”

“You’re hurt.” His other hand traced the brace that stopped at my mid forearm. I didn’t need to ask what the doctor had discovered. I’d lived it. I wasn’t ready for a retelling.

“And I’m sure you’ll hurt them worse.” An uncomfortable feeling tugged at my stomach as I spoke the words easily. I spoke of him torturing someone as if it was normal.

Was he really any different than the men who’d taken me?

He was. He was worse.

Those men were everyday criminals. I didn’t see the sadism in their eyes that I saw in Maddox. The enjoyment he got out of pain. I’d told myself a million times I should fear it. Maybe now I actually would. Now that who he was and what he did bled into my life. Threatened it.

Maddox reached forward and grabbed a bar of soap sitting in a dish beside the tub. Ignoring the washcloth nearby, he rubbed the soap between his hands until they were full of suds. He set it back down again before skimming his hands over my body.

He started at my wrist, avoiding the broken one, then up my arms. He brushed my hair off my shoulders as he worked the lather into the sore muscles. He kneaded until I felt boneless and at risk of sinking into the tub.

He lingered at the pulse in my neck. Gently tracing the veins there, as if feeling the beat helped him know I was alive. He slowly trailed his hands back down. I expected him to tease my nipples, even ached for it, but he was thorough and efficient.

He wasn’t touching me to turn us on, even though I could feel his hard cock pressing into my back. He was touching me to know I was safe. He was washing away what had happened to me. What he had allowed to happen. I could feel the guilt and sorrow in the way he sighed as he came across a bruise or scrape on my skin. I wanted to reassure him, but his touch had lulled me into a trance.

I wasn’t safe with him. His life would continue to bring fear and hurt like this. As much as I never wanted to admit it, I cared for him. I maybe even loved him. In a depraved and twisted sort of way. But I didn’t know if I could live in his world.

I could handle what he did to me. To my body and mind. I’d been handling it. Reveling in it. Craving it. Or I had before. Before I started to question everything again.

But if I were his, people would always come for me. People would always use me to punish him for his sins. I didn’t know if it was worth it. If he was worth it. If the way I felt around him was. He made me feel utterly alive.

Free.

But for how long? For how long could I live in his world? How long before the next person came? Or before my mind finally snapped and I sunk so far into my own darkness, there would be no way out?

For this moment, I was going to take comfort in his touch. Maybe none of my worries mattered anyways. This situation had to have woken him up as well. He didn’t want to have a weakness. And I was a glaring weakness with fragile bones.

I knew he didn’t have normal emotions. He didn’t love me. Maybe this would be the thing that pushed me away from him. That broke his obsession. I ignored the stuttering in my chest as I rested my head back on him.

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