My heart slammed as that familiar scent accosted me fully, only his eyes weren’t on mine this time either, they were on the cut that lined a part of my hairline on the right side of my face. It had healed just fine; I don’t know what he was so worried about.
He straightened and gestured to my other hand.
I frowned, holding it out to him, finding that spot on the wall as he inspected my ring finger.
It was fine. That one was healing nicely. After all the blood was washed away, the tear in my skin hadn’t beenthatdeep. It would still take a couple of weeks to fully heal, but it was better than my palm, which had been sliced down near to the muscle, it felt like.
Everything was fine though. It was, I could handle myself just fine.
He let my hand go and grabbed my upper arm, hoisting me up without warning and he dragged me through the house.
I let him do it. There was no point in fighting this. I’d just be his little puppet. Let him do what he wanted, and he’d leave me be for a few more days before coming back and getting another ‘payment’.
Now that Steven was gone, I owed it all. Wasn’t that how it worked in this world? It always came down to the woman. Every goddamn time.
Fuck men.
He dragged me into the living room and let me go, storming across the house as if he had a point to prove.
I folded my hands across my chest, shaking my head, only to freeze when I saw the woman standing in front of one of my art pieces.
She turned to me, her long dark hair falling in beautiful thick waves to her waist. She had on a fitted leather jacket over a blood red tank-top, her lips painted a matte rose, her jeans fitting herwell.
I swallowed, looking her over. Damn. It would be a crime if I didn’t appreciate how beautiful she truly was.
She smiled softly. “Hey, I’m Evelyn, we didn’t get the chance to officially meet yet.”
She had an accent. Russian, I think. Very light, beautiful.
God, she was beautiful.
I glanced towards Everett, who was doing something in the kitchen, and back as she made her way over, her movements asgraceful as his. She didn’t have a mask on.
I dropped my hands to my sides and gestured to my face.
She nodded, glancing to Everett and back with a shrug. “My brothers like their theatrics. Masks keep us safe.”
“Evelyn,” Everett warned.
She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed at his very existence, which I could thoroughly appreciate. “We all wear them, but I don’t think it’s necessary all the time. Not like Mr. Mystery over here who wears his even when fucking.”
My eyes narrowed and I looked over to Everett, ignoring her last comment and how it threatened to warm my cheeks. He was going through my cupboards. Masks kept them safe? My brows furrowed in question as I found her eyes again.
Her own softened. “I can’t tell you much.” She reached out, her nails painted the same color as her shirt, and slid her hand over my cheek. Her touch was soft, warm, and it instantly made my eyes fill. “Are you okay? How are you healing?”
I leaned into it, unable to help it, feeling her thumb caress my cheek just above the bandage, my eyes falling shut. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, the pain from the last few days, the fear, slowly dragging me into the depths of Hell.
Her eyes were so kind. Her presence was so good. When was the last time I had been touched like this. Softly, as if I mattered. As if I were cared about. When was the last time someone asked me if I was okay without there being some horrible bite to it? Some insult?
This was nice.
“Baby.”
I opened my eyes and realized that tears had slid down my cheeks, instantly being absorbed by the bandages.
I inhaled sharply and took a step back, quickly wiping under my eyes and hardening my expression. No. No, I didn’t know them. They broke into my house; they brainwashed my dog!None of this was a choice of mine. None of it.
What was wrong with me that I was just letting them do this?
