CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE HEATHEN
Killian lies beside me and takes me into his arms. I can’t help but notice how different Killian is from before. Stroking his fingers down my arm, his eyes tracking the movement, the expression on his face says this is more than sex. The way he’s touching me is dangerous.
“If I’m not careful, I might believe I matter to him.”
Lifting his eyes to mine, he stares at me, curiously, and I realize I spoke out loud.
“Fuck. That was not for you to hear!” I blurt out before covering my mouth in embarrassment.
Chuckling softly, he pulls my hand away from my face and kisses me on the forehead.
“Yes, Killer. You matter to me.” His voice is thick with emotion, his eyes intense as his gaze burns into mine.
“You mean a lot to me, baby. It’s my fault you doubt me. If you give me time, I’ll prove it to you.”
There’s that word again.
Time.
Something I’m not sure we have much of.
Pulling me tighter, his embrace is warm and unexpected.
He has never held me, but I like it. Maybe more than I should. Placing my head on his chest, I settle my hand over his rose tattoo.
“Why is your safe word donut?”
I lift my head and look at him with surprise, as I’m sure I misunderstood what he said.
“What?”
“Your safe word. Why is itdonut?”
I take a deep breath before answering. He probably thinks it’s a simple distaste for them, but it goes much deeper than that. Carter and Knox have never asked me why I chose that word, but I’m sure they probably have wondered too.
“I loved donuts when I was little. It was my favorite food in the world. When Jedediah forced me to marry him, I tried to fight him off a lot—sexually. He got tired of having to hold me down constantly and started a reward system. If I took it without complaint, I got a donut. The donuts were a reward for ‘godly behavior.’ I took them and enjoyed them until one day it hit me—I was trading my body for a fucking donut. I was never brainwashed like some of the girls. They believed his words. He convinced them that God had given him their bodies as an act of love. I knew it was wrong—my body is mine and I should have a choice. As time went on, I was ashamed that I could be bought so easily, and donuts became symbolic of pain and torture. It became a visual representation of everything he took from me.
My body.
My innocence.
My childhood.
My ability to have children.
He took all those things, but the worst is that he took me. I didn’t even know who I was until after I left. It wasn’t until I was alone for weeks, sitting on a rock and throwing stones into the water, that it all hit me. This was my purpose. I am a monstercreated by my father. I sat there with a cross in my hand and formulated my plan. The very thing they used to keep victims scared and obedient would be how they would die. It was poetic justice.”
Killian runs his fingers through my hair as he swallows hard.
“How long ago did you run?”
I stare at his tattoo as I trace the petals of the rose with my forefinger.
“Nine years ago. I was fifteen years old.”
The sadness in his eyes is profound, as if he physically feels the pain I’ve endured. Something I never expected from Killian.
