My fingers twitched as I dug them into my palms, and the exquisite pain had me closing my eyes, the relief so intense it was almost pleasurable. As I released a shaky breath, I took measure of my options.
I shouldn’t have questioned him, but this was my home now. I didn’t want him bringing people to be tortured into it, and I didn’t think that was a lot to damn well ask. God, didn’t they have places for that express purpose? Did he really have to bring it home?
He’d said it was to do with this morning, but because he hadn’t clued me in on what had actually happened, I was still in the dark, and I was okay with that. I preferred the darkness. Call me a coward, but I didn’twantto know. There was no remaining in that darkness, however, when he brought it under my roof too.
The longer I thought about this, the more my fingers burrowed into my palms. It was so second nature to me that I didn’t even realize it. Not until I felt the Band-Aids sliding around now the flesh was slick with blood.
Wincing at the mess I’d made, I peered down at the carpeted floor, grateful that I hadn’t dripped any blood onto it, then I made my way to the bathroom to clean up. Only, as I did, I heard him. I had no idea how long he’d taken down there, but the sound of his thudding steps on the stairs, then the padding of his bare feet as he moved down the corridor had my heart taking residence in my throat.
With time running out, I did the only thing that was sensible. The one thing that my mind had clung to this morning when he’d said it.
I rushed to the nearest corner, one that was part wall, part window, turned my face to it, and tried not to wonder why, when my body barely reacted to direct stimuli, a ball of heat had formed in my core as I pushed my nose against the wall, hoping that would be enough to quell his anger...