ESMERALDA 7
My heart is racing after what I just heard. They threatened the Elementals because of me, but the Elementals did not give me up. Freya and Anastasia didn’t hear what was said, but I did, and I heard what Basil said to Dag. Even if I didn’t want it, sooner or later Dag will find out about everything that was done to me and about everything that I did. How can anyone want me after that? How can the Elementals want to protect me after they find out that I was one of the main culprits of so many women being found and kidnapped?
I feel like there is a black hole pulling me in, sucking me straight into its depths. I need to go somewhere far away where no one knows me. Where no one can ever find out about my past. I feel tears filling my eyes when I think about the morning that I just had. I’ve never had a morning like today—never had anyone treat me like I was treated by Freya and Anastasia. They have been kind and friendly to me, something that I have never had before. And if they do want something from me, at least they are not being cruel about getting it.
Pulling my jeans up over my hips, I sigh as I look around the room. Even though this is just a room in a motorcycle club, it’s the nicest place that I have stayed in. But I can’t stay, no matter how much I want to. Dag seems nice. He has helped me at every turn, and even though he says that I’m his woman, he has not forced himself on me.
I feel an attraction to him that I have not felt before for anyone. Sean forced himself on me, and the only feelings I had for him were ones of hate and fear. If I was different, I would give Dag and myself the opportunity of finding out what there is between us, because there is no doubt that there is something strong going on between us. When he’s close, it’s like a magnet, like he is pulling me in.
I hear a light tread coming toward me, and even though all the men here tread lightly, I know Dag’s stride. Taking in a deep breath, I straighten my T-shirt just as the door opens and Dag steps inside. His eyes travel over my body and hesitate on my lips before he continues up to my eyes. I can still see a spark of anger there, but he hides his feelings well.
“Dag, what is happening?” Freya asks as she walks into the room from placing my dirty clothes in the washing basket.
Dag glances at her, but then his eyes return to mine and he shrugs. “Blustering like they always do, but don’t worry about it, it’s under control.”
Freya nods with a frown, but Anastasia huffs.
“Under control, really?” she asks sarcastically. “Does that mean that the war between the Desperados and the Elementals is over?”
“You do know that this war wasn’t our doing, don’t you?” Dag asks with a raised brow, now looking fully at Anastasia.
“Yes, I do, but war is never the answer,” she says before sighing.
“Okay, so what do you suggest?” Dag’s question takes me by surprise, as I have never heard any man asking a woman what she thought before.
“I don’t know, but why not just tell the authorities of what they are doing?”
Dag lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair. I can see the strain on his face, and I’m amazed that he hasn’t slapped Anastasia for questioning him or shouted at her for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I was never allowed to question Sean or any of the men in the Desperados. I learned at the beginning that women are to be seen and not heard.
More than once, I was backhanded for just being in the way. I have learned to keep my questions and my opinions to myself. I’ve been biding my time, but with perseverance, I was able to learn how to keep quiet and out of the way. I lived most of my time with the Desperados in Sean’s room, and only coming out when I had to.
“We need evidence, Darling. We don’t have enough for the cops to do anything.”
“They have cops that work for them,” I whisper.
They all stop talking to look at me. When their curious gazes clash with mine, I regret interrupting their conversation. I shouldn’t have spoken.
“Are you sure?”
Freya’s question has me nodding.
“We already suspected as much; there’s no surprise there,” Dag says with a shrug as he inclines his head towards the bathroom. “Is it okay to go in there now?”
“Oh, umm, sure,” Freya says as she quickly grabs Anastasia’s hand, pulling her towards the door. “We will see you later, Esmeralda.”
I would rather go with them, but I don’t even know where my sneakers are. Besides, it won’t be easy putting them on with one hand. Before I can do anything, they are out of the door and closing it behind them.
Looking towards the bathroom, I see that Dag has gone inside. A minute later, I hear the shower. I sigh as I look around for my sneakers, finally finding them under the bed. Kneeling down, I stretch out my good arm, trying to catch a corner of my sneaker, but because of my injured wrist and the cast, I have to practically slide under the bed to get it.
“Well, now this is a view I can get used to,” Dag says from behind me just as I grab the sneaker.
I gasp in surprise, and because I was in a rush to stand, I bang my head on the bottom of the bed, which has me wincing in pain. Before I can straighten, Dag’s strong hands grip my waist, and he lifts me from the floor, helping me onto my feet before he turns me around to face him.
I’m about to thank him when I realize that he is naked except for a short towel wrapped around his trim waist. His chest is at eye level, which has my gaze perusing across his broadness, seeing the beautiful tattoo that looks like the roots of a tree are growing from his chest, over his shoulder, and down his arm. The design is exquisite and captures the eye. A black leather chain is around his neck with a dark green semi-precious stone laying against his heart.
I have seen my fair share of men naked, especially at the parties that Sean held where the men had no inhibitions or were too drunk or high to care. But none of the men that I’ve ever seen have looked like Dag. He is standing before me like a Greek God, his abs flexing with his breaths. The golden tone of his skin calls to me and has my fingers twitching to touch him—to feel the heat under my fingers.
“Are you okay?” His quiet, deep tone penetrates my every cell—my every thought. Is it possible that what he said is true? Can I really be his mate—the one meant for him? I have never felt this attraction to anyone before. I have never wanted to touch anyone as much as I want to touch him.