No one ever bothered to be careful with her.
The opposite usually.
They treated her like she was nothing and that her body existed for their amusement.
“You did it,” she whispered, her voice still rough, her throat dry but useable. “You saved me.”
“Not alone. I had a little help,” he admitted, although he didn't sound as upset about that as she would have guessed.
“That’s okay, we all need a little help every now and then.” Not that she’d ever had anyone around who cared enough to help her before now, but she still knew it was true.
“Yeah, maybe we do,” Voodoo agreed, sounding almost like he was surprised by the admission, and he’d truly believed that asking for help or admitting you couldn’t accomplish something on your own was a weakness to be ignored.
“Where are we?” Looking around the room, she could see it was stylish, although minimally, decorated. It didn't quite look like a hospital room, but she wasn't sure what else it could be. Maybe it wassome sort of fancy, private hospital. From what she knew, Prey Security was owned by wealthy siblings, and if they thought Delta Team was family, then by extension, she could be considered part of them, too, even though she’d never met any of the Oswald siblings.
“Home,” Voodoo answered simply.
“Home? The house where you and your team live?” Even though he’d said he was bringing her home when they got out of the forest, somehow, she hadn't truly believed he would actually do that.
As far as she was concerned, home was a sacred place, one you shared only with the people you truly cared about. Maybe her view was tainted by the fact she’d always longed for a home and never had a real one, but it was an almost magical idea in her mind. When she’d been married, she’d done her best to create the perfect home, make it everything she’d always dreamed of, but her ex had criticized every little thing she did, always telling her she never measured up.
“Where else would I bring you?”
“Is this room going to be mine?” It was almost too much to hope for that she might have her very own room in Voodoo’s home, maybe even one she could decorate however she wanted without fear of being criticized this time around.
“I hope so.” There was a slight hesitation in his words, and she turned from surveying the large space to find him watching her with a weird expression. “It’s my room, Indy. Ours, I hope, from here on out.”
“You want me to stay in your room with you?” The idea seemed crazy. Sure, they’d danced around the idea that something was brewing between them, but they barely knew each other, and what time they’d spent together had been running for their lives and him trying to keep her alive.
Why would he take such a big step so quickly?
What if things didn't work out between them?
How long could it realistically take before Voodoo realized what everybody else already knew, that she was worthless and?—
“Better stop thinking thoughts like that before I have to take matters into my own hands and distract you myself,” he warned, as his thumb dragged across her bottom lip. “Whatever worries you're coming upwith let them go. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to work out the way it’s supposed to.”
“How can you know that?” Indigo whispered, desperate for an answer that would soothe every one of her anxieties. Surviving the gunshot wound hadn't been something she thought was going to happen, not even with her enhanced healing ability, so she’d never thought she’d get the chance to explore this thing between herself and Voodoo.
Now that she had the chance, it was overwhelming. Exciting but terrifying. Voodoo was perfect, but she’d also thought both her exes were perfect at one point, too, and she’d been majorly wrong. Not that she thought Voodoo would ever abuse her, but surely he’d grow tired of her at some point.
“Easy.” Voodoo shifted, moving his large body so it was above hers, lightly pinning her down onto the mattress without adding any weight that might aggravate her injuries. “Because you're mine.”
“Yours?”
“You know it, too, feel it, someplace deep down inside. It doesn’t make sense, and I wouldn't believe it if I weren't experiencing it myself, but I knew from the second I saw you that you're mine.”
“Yours,” she said again, but not a question this time around, more like trying the idea out loud.
“Mine,” Voodoo reiterated, brushing his lips across hers.
“And you're mine.” Voodoo was right, it was weird, and it didn't make sense. If she didn't feel that same knowledge deep inside her, she wouldn't have believed you could meet someone, know them for such a small amount of time, and yet understand on some soul-deep level that she’d met the person who would complete her, give her everything she’d always dreamed of but never dared to hope for.
Chapter
Twenty-One
February 4th
