Memories slammed into me, pulling me back to a place I didn’t want to be. I was tied to the posts of Lord Thorne’s bed, his gnarled hands wielding a dagger. He carved into my skin, and the pain nearly suffocated me.
I pressed a hand to my chest, my fingers trembling as I felt the ghost of his blade against my flesh.
“Vivian?” Izo’s voice pulled me back to the present.
I blinked, shaking my head as the memory began to fade. The bed before me wasn’t Thorne’s. The room wasn’t that dark, filthy place. And Izo wasn’t Thorne.
He stepped closer, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, softly, almost tenderly.
I looked up at him. “Yes, it’s just… memories.”
His eyes darkened. “Of him?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Izo cupped my cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t need to think about that anymore. He’s gone. I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.”
His words soothed the jagged edges of my thoughts, and I leaned into his touch.
I glanced back at the bed, my unease slowly giving way to a strange sense of comfort. This was Izo’s space, not Thorne’s. Izo would never hurt me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He smiled and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You’re mine to protect, Vivian. Always.”
The warmth in his gaze replaced the lingering shadows of my memories. But deep inside, a small, quiet voice whispered a different truth.This isn’t right.I ignored it, focusing instead on the steady weight of Izo’s hand in mine. For now, it was enough.
Izo led me into his sprawling bathroom. The space was overwhelming in its opulence, an aquatic dreamscape of shimmering tiles and enchanted water features. Streams ofglowing water ran through grooves in the walls and floor, converging into a central fountain that bubbled quietly. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of salt and lavender.
He turned to me, his silver eyes soft with what looked like concern.Or is it manipulation?that little voice whispered.
“Sit,” he murmured, his hands finding my waist and lifting me effortlessly onto the marble counter.
This isn’t right,that voice whispered again.
I shoved the thought away as Izo knelt in front of me. His hands, cool but firm, took mine, and I saw the shallow cut running across my palm. A wound I hadn’t even realized was there.
“You’ve hurt yourself,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the skin just below the cut.
“It’s nothing,” I replied, though my voice sounded hollow to my own ears.
His gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unwavering. “It’s not nothing. You need to be cared for, Vivian. I’ll make sure you are.”
The warmth in his voice sent an inexplicable wave of affection through me, blooming in my chest despite the gnawing feeling that it didn’t belong there.
Izo reached for a damp cloth, dipping it into a basin of warm water before gently pressing it to my wound. I hissed at the sting, but he held my hand steady, his touch firm but careful.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “I know it hurts.”
His words settled over me like a lullaby, softening my tension even as I tried to cling to the fleeting thoughts of someone else.
Raffaele’s face flickered in my mind. The cabin. His arms around me. His whispered promises.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my chest, stealing my breath.
“Oh,” I gasped, clutching at my ribs with my free hand.
Izo looked up, his expression curious but calm. “What is it?”
