I have a minor emergency to deal with today. I’ll be working from home, but will call in for the status meeting at noon.
I’ll catch hell from Noah, and I’m sure Barry will find a way to get a couple of digs in during the meeting, but Dax is right. There’s no way I can go into the office.
Now that I’m no longer in imminent danger, all my various injuries make themselves known. Closing the bedroom door, I strip out of my sweater and wool pants. A fist-sized bruise below my ribs looks to be the worst. But as I take off my bra, I brush a swollen, painful spot on my back where I think I landed on my power strip. Pulling on my tank top makes my entire torso ache, and I slip into a pair of yoga pants before grabbing my toothbrush.
By the time I open the door, all the lights are off, and the apartment is completely silent. The bathroom mirror reveals the bruises around my throat, and I collapse against the counter, suddenly aware how close I came to dying.
His hands squeeze my throat, and he yanks me up a couple of inches before slamming me back down to the floor. “Where is it, bitch?”
“I…don’t…know,” I wheeze, barely able to get the words out, “what…you’re—”
“Evianna?”
Dax. Oh God. Help me!
Safe. I’m safe. In Dax’s apartment. His bathroom. Shit. On the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees. “Get up, Evianna. Brush your damn teeth and go to bed. In the morning, you’ll figure out what to do.”
My little pep talk gets me to Dax’s bed, and his scent surrounds me. The few minutes he held me after the attack, I felt safe. Safer than I’ve felt since this whole mess started.
I wish he’d hold me again. Just long enough for me to take a deep breath. To get my head clear. But I can’t ask, so I bury my face in a pillow to hide my sobs.
Dax
Well, you fucked that right up, Holloway. Couldn’t just explain it to her? Had to yell at a woman who’s just been attacked, her home violated?
Punching the pillow, I turn over. I didn’t tell Evianna I sleep on the couch all the time. Six years after escaping Hell, and there are still some nights I can’t stand the softness of the mattress.
Searing pain lances through my temple, and I sit up with a hiss. Fucking migraines. The Imitrex leaves me fuzzy, and Evianna needs me at my best in the morning, so I head for the bathroom to grab a couple of Tylenol. Closed in the darkness, I tentatively feel for the toothpaste. In the perfect spot. I’m not surprised.
I stick my head under the faucet for a mouthful of water and toss the two pills back, hoping they’re enough.
As soon as I crack the door, I hear it. Her muffled crying from the bedroom. Shit. I can’t just ignore her pain. Not when some of it is on me.
“Evianna?” I reach the end of the bed and ease a hip onto the mattress. “What can I do?”
“I-I’m…f-fine,” she stutters. “Go…away.”
Sucking in a sharp breath at the tone in her voice, I’m back in Hell. Huddled against a wall in the darkness, praying for some sign I’m not alone. Every day. Every night. All the times they kept us separated. Whenever they made us watch one of our fellow prisoners die. The pain wasn’t the worst of it. Shit. Not even losing my sight was as bad as the fear no one would find us. Hear us. See us ever again.
I know what Evianna needs. The same thing I needed every fucking day.
To know she’s not alone.
“Do you trust me?” Sliding closer, I pat the bed until I find her arm wrapped around a pillow, and rest my fingers against her cool skin.
For a moment, silence blankets the room. I pushed too hard. But then, she whispers, “Yes.”
“Scoot over.”
“Dax, I don’t want…I hardly know you.” Despite her protests, she wriggles to the other side of the bed, and when I get under the covers, she holds her breath.
Lying on my side, my back to her, I tuck my arm under my head. “Get yourself comfortable so you can rest your hand against my back or my shoulder.”
Confusion colors her tone. “What? How’s that supposed to help anything?”
Choking back a laugh, I pull the blankets a little higher. In a t-shirt and pajama pants, most of my scars are covered, but my forearms are enough to scare small children. “You telling me you want me to kiss you?”
“No! Shit. I just met you.”
