“Oh, that’s so awful.” She blinked slowly. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees and steepling my fingers. “No. You can’t imagine the world I’ve been raised in. I was doing the unthinkable by the time I could hold a gun,” I said quietly. “My father taught me to hunt more than just the wildlife.”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. For once, she didn’t have a comeback.
“You don’t know how the world really works, Lyla,” I said.
The silence between us stretched until she finally reached for her wine and took a slow sip, carefully avoiding meeting my eye.
I’d pushed too far again, shown her too much ugliness. Too soon.
I sat back, letting the tension settle before I shifted gears.
“I’ve decided what I’m going to do with you.”
Her head snapped up. “I’m sorry—what?”
There it was. Instant fire.
I held up a hand, trying to suppress a smirk. “Relax. You’re safe. I won’t lay a hand on you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you’ve decided what todowith me. Wow. You really don’t hear how that sounds?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “For now, what you need is rest. You need to stop trying to run and just…breathe.”
“Right,” she muttered, “because you’re the one calling the shots.”
“I’m not a cruel man,” I said quietly. “But unless you start trusting me, there’s only so much I can do for you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off.
“You’ve been through hell, experienced the kind of trauma most people never come back from. And when it’s your first time facing that kind of violence—when your world shatters overnight—your brain doesn’t know what to do. You swing hard. Emotions ricochet. You fight. You cling. You beg. You try to take control of anything you can.”
She squirmed a little.
“You tried to escape. Then you gave me your virginity like it was nothing. Both were survival instincts, not choices.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction, and the fight in her eyes dulled, just a little.
“I’m not changing anything about your future until you’re in a position to make a real decision about it. Not one based on fear. Or adrenaline. You can’t go around making life-changing choices just to feel in control again.”
She exhaled slowly. “You make me sound like a child.”
I leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “There is nothing about you that’s childish.”
She froze.
“You’re brilliant. Scrappy as hell. The most naturally beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. You walk into a room like a damn storm. You’ve got sensuality you don’t even know how to wield yet, and it’s fuckingenthralling.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“You’re a goddess. You just need to slow down and regroup.”
In silence, she looked down at her lap. She ran her fingers along the seam of the pillow like she didn’t know what to do with the compliment.
A flicker of something crossed her face—guilt, maybe. Or disbelief.
“I don’t feel like a goddess…and I don’t feel like there’s anything left to salvage,” she said softly.
