Page 28 of Savage Sin

My stomach twists and the man at my side breathes out heavily through his nose. I can feel the power of his intention as if he’s spoken the words.

Ice blue turns tempest gray as he considers me. Like he’s working through all the angles, peeling back my layers to find my weaknesses. The second I reveal my hand, he’ll pounce. I’m sure of it. The sobering thought dries the tears wanting out.

Long fingers flex over the girth of my thigh. He is going to force me to spread my legs for him. I know it.

No one will hear me scream deep in the woods.

Fingers flex over my flesh. I will not give in without a fight.

“Who put these on you?”

What? The abrupt change of mental trajectory catches me off guard. I follow the line of his gaze.

Callused fingers brush over fresh scars that haven’t turned a fully healed white. He opens my thigh to get a better look and I don’t stop him. Six inches of jagged skin mar the inside seam.

For a second, his question scatters my thoughts, but I quickly catch on. “It doesn’t matter who.” It’s why I have them that is important, but I stay silent.

Before I can hide the other scar, he’s moving me to see there’s a matching one on the left thigh.

Clear blue turns murderous when he looks at me and then back to my scar. “Who, Persephone? You will answer me. Do I make myself clear?”

Having broken glass sliced into my flesh is not something I wish to talk about with a stranger. I turn my head, since it’s the only thing I control. “You can keep me tied here forever, but you can’t force me to do or say anything.”

Fingers move to cup my chin and turn me around.

There’s a slight downturn to his lips when I raise my eyes from his chest. Like he can’t stand the thought of a woman being abused.

“Who laid their hands on you? Your step-father? Or this Russian you speak of?” Lamps on either nightstand have a hard time beating back the night the later it gets. The dimness casts his face in stark lines of light and darkness. Murderous intent simmers just below the surface, but I don’t think his wrath is aimed at me.

My brows narrow pinch. “I didn’t mention any Russian.”

I see a hint of arrogance whisper over his expression. “You talk in your sleep.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. I did? I swallow past a dry throat. If I talked aboutel Ruso, did I talk about my sister, too?

I fake my lack of interest. “What else did I mumble about?”

The corner of his lips glides up a notch. “Afraid you let secrets slip,Princessa?”

Hell yes. “Nope.”

Using a gentle touch, he moves my leg to the right and then left as if examining the depth of pain I suffered. But the brooding giant of a man never moves to touch methere.

A scowl pinches his expression. “And all these bruises on your hips and stomach? They are taking a long time to fade.” Disgust roughens his voice into a growl. Since he’s not bringing up my sister, I take that as a sign to do the same.

“Did the same man put those on you too, baby?”

My heart wants to cling to his use of endearments. Baby? Oh, God, please don’t be nice to me like that. What in fresh hell? Why do I want to suddenly cry?

In all honesty, I don’t know what to do with all the niceness.

“Don’t pretend to care, whoever you are,” I sling in his face. I don’t know anything about the bruises. What happened to me after I passed out from the knife in my side is anyone’s guess. Tens of armed guards or Cortes enforcers could have kicked me a hundred different times. I wouldn’t put much of anything beneath the level of Joaquin’s depravity. Or the Russian’s.

“I didn’t end up at the bottom of a cargo ship because I thought it would be a cool summer adventure.”

A hint of a smile lingers at the corner of the madman’s lip for a moment before fading. He nods and traces the pad of his thumb over the yellowing bruises. I hiss when he presses a little too hard.

He holds my gaze and makes an inaudible sound of disapproval. “I’ll take that as a confirmation that when your family meets my gun, I’ll solve both our problems.”

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