Fuck!
I began pacing the small porch in the hopes the cold would ease the tension running through my frame. The icy air pricked at my arms and feet but, despite the fact that I was wearing just a T-shirt and jeans, I still felt hot all over.
Why the hell had I touched him?
And why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking about it?
Lucy and I had been finishing up dinner when we’d heard moaning coming from the back of the cabin. By the time we’d reached Ethan’s room, he’d been screaming the word “No” over and over again. Several pillows had been shoved across the bed and to the floor as Ethan had thrashed around and the blanket had been draped precariously over his lap. As I’d rushed into the room, his screams had stopped and he’d started wheezing like he couldn’t breathe. Panic had rushed through me as I’d wondered if one of his injuries had worsened, but I hadn’t had time to give it much thought because as soon as I’d put my hands on him, he’d lashed out at me. He hadn’t hit me at first – no, he’d clawed at my neck as I’d tried to get ahold of his arms. Even now, I could feel the scratches just beneath my shirt collar where the fabric had shifted during the struggle and his nails had raked over my skin. Just before I’d caught his swinging fists which had come way too close to hitting Lucy who’d gone around to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it in the hopes of waking Ethan up, his fist had connected with my jaw. The blow hadn’t been enough to deter me, but unlike when he’d taken swings at me when I’d first arrived and encountered him and Lucy in the front yard, this time he’d managed to leave a mark on me.
Lucy and I had both yelled at him to wake up, but it wasn’t until he’d heard Lucy’s voice that he’d spoken again.
But just to tell her to run.
To save herself.
To leave him behind.
I shook my head as thoughts about everything the man had endured at the hands of another continued to torment me. Watching him try to hold himself up in that shower, the bruises standing out like swathes of night against his pale skin, the remnants of blood staining the backs of his thighs…I’d been moving before I could even consider what I was doing.
It would have been easy to pull him back out of that shower and just let him use a washcloth to clean off where he’d vomited onhimself after being jolted from his nightmare. But I’d seen that blood and I’d wanted it gone. I couldn’t explain why…not because what had happened to him disgusted me or anything. No, it was seeing the proof of how badly he’d suffered that had kept me in that shower with him, even as my mind had rebelled at the feel of his back pressed up against my front…his hand clutching my arm where I’d held on to him.
I’d wanted to wash away that proof so that I wouldn’t ache inside for what had happened to him. So that I’d be able to think about things other than hunting down the man who’d dared to even lay a finger on him. But there was no washing away the bruises that littered his body like an artist’s canvas.
And his sobs…
His soul-crushing, defeated sobs.
The ones I’d felt everywhere.
I’d never heard that level of agony. I’d felt it myself, but I hadn’t ever given in to its need to escape my body. No, I’d used it as fuel instead. But with Ethan, I’d wanted the tormented cries gone, just like the blood and any other possible remnants his rapist had left behind as well as the fucking bruises. I’d wanted him to be free of all of it.
Though I had no idea why…
It wasn’t like I’d never been around victims before. Hell, my entire childhood had revolved around watching my mother use creative means to hide the bruises that had mottled her skin just like Ethan’s did his.
But from the second I’d wrapped my arm around Ethan’s too-thin body and told him I had him, something had happened.
And it wasn’t something good.
No, it was never good if it stayed with you…if it kept you awake at night.
If it made you start questioning things.
Weird things.
Like why jabs of electricity had fired up from my palm through my entire arm as I’d washed Ethan’s back. Like why I’d beentempted to let my hand linger on Ethan’s ass after I’d swiped my fingers through his crack, brushing his hole for just the tiniest of moments. Like why it had been so fucking hard to breathe when he’d finally given in to whatever had been holding him back from sinking into my hold, his fingers digging into my arm where he’d clutched me like I was the only thing in the world.
And like why I’d had to escape that room as soon as I’d gotten Ethan settled back in the bed.
Not because my clothes had been sopping wet, though I was more than grateful that I’d had that fact to use for cover.
No, the same thing that was currently keeping me from falling asleep had also had me rushing out of that bedroom.
I was hard.
Rock hard.
Harder than I’d ever been.
