“What are you watching?” I asked, my gaze flicking from her to the tv and back. Knowing I wouldn’t get an answer, I gestured for my son to enter. “Cinder, this is Saint.” We both walked toward the bed.
Immediate fear rallied over her blank features. Eyes widened, her hands fisted the blanket, her body pressing into the headboard, trying to back away. Nostrils flared, her chest rose and fell in quick succession. Her panic was insurmountable.
“Christ.” I heard Saint’s barely audible curse, his steps freezing.
Catching his eye with a quick nod to him, I moved to her side and knelt. “Look at me, love.” Reaching for her hand, I placed it on my chest, letting her feel my heartbeat. “You’re safe,” I soothed. The wariness never leaving her face, her eyes darted between me and Saint. “Saint is my son. He’ll never harm you.” Her gaze finally stayed on me, that faint flicker of trust returned as she visibly calmed down. I ran gentle knuckles down her cheek when her breathing settled to soft breaths. “Good girl.” Her eyelashes fluttered down at the praise, the only indication she liked it. “Say hello to Saint,” I kept my tone soft.
Her eyes drifted back to him. “Hello,” she whispered.
“Hello,” he greeted, not coming any closer. “Nice to meet you.” I heard the smile in his voice and silently thanked him for his gentleness. When she said nothing, he added, “maybe one day, when you’re feeling up to it, we can talk more?”
Silence while her gaze roved over his face, her expression unreadable before it drifted back to the television. It would probably take some unprecedented miracle to get her to trust, even a smidgen.
While that worried me, I had plenty of patience to give her. “Would you like to join me downstairs for dinner tonight?” I asked, bringing her eyes back to me.
“No,” she murmured.
“You might enjoy the open air.” Another head shake before she focused on the television again.
The soft click of the closing door announced Saint’s quiet departure from the room. I mentally praised my son’s understanding. My gaze shifted to the uneaten sandwich on the nightstand opposite where she sat, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. Rising to sit on the bed, I slid a finger under her chin, coaxing her to look at me. Still fascinated by her bi-colored eyes, my lips slid into a soft smile.
“You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. You must be starving.” Even as I said the words, something in her eyes told me she’d probably gone days without food and learned to weather that storm. Would you share a meal with me here?” She didn’t say anything.
Given the boxed area she’d lived in, I knew larger spaces and noisy crowds would be overwhelming for now. The thought took me back to the first time we’d met. She would’ve never come into my life if it hadn’t been for that panic attack. That notion both angered and pained me. Rage for Kabir and anguish over what she’d gone through. As selfish as it sounded, I looked forward to bringing her out of that terror. To one day see her smile or laugh, perhaps. To not flinch and break out in a sweat whenever someone approached her.
Still, I thanked the universe she’d allowed me to get close. When her eyes returned to the television, I chewed my lip thoughtfully, and my gaze drifted over her body clad in another one of my shirts. While she hadn’t mentioned any specific requirements, with Juliette’s help, I purchased some toiletries a few weeks ago and left them in her bathroom. When I checked in, she hadn’t touched anything.
“I think it’s time you got clothes other than my shirts. Shall we try that?”
Surprisingly, she nodded. I stood and held out a hand. She pushed aside the throw, slid her hand into mine, and slowly pulled herself up. Her slight wobble had my other hand grasping her waist to keep her steady. She lifted her gaze to meet mine. Although there was no smile, her eyes seemed to sparkle with gratitude.
“Take a shower. I’ll leave you a new shirt and joggers, okay.”
“Thank you.” Her usual polite acknowledgment left me smiling.
When I returned after a quick shower, fifteen minutes later, she was still in the bathroom. Something falling had me knocking on the door. “Cinder, are you okay?”
Silence.
“Cinder?” Having warned her never to lock the door, I turned the doorknob and opened the door. “Cinder,” I called out before entering. Naked, she sat on the edge of the tub with her back to me, looking out the window. While still visibly red, the carving on her back had healed, and I was glad she couldn’t see it. “Cinder?” I touched her shoulder.
She lifted her sad eyes to me. “I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to.”
I frowned. “What can’t you do, love?”
“Master doesn’t like it long. He gets angry.”
My heart flipped. I clenched my fists tight, hating that bastard who still had some hold over her. “What can’t—” My eyes fell to the box with the disposable lady shaver lying on the floor near the toilet. I didn’t think when I purchased it, I just went with what Juliette suggested. Walking over to it, I picked up the box and returned to Cinder. I dropped to my haunches bringing me to her level. Again, I didn’t think when I asked, “would you like me to show you how it works?”
She nodded.
