Helplessness might be the worst feeling.
A soft knock centers me back in the present.
“Come in, Marai,” Blaze says.
A young maid enters, carrying a tray with breakfast, two coffees and painkillers. The scent of French toast wafts through the air, but instead of my stomach growling, it tightens painfully, protesting any food intake.
Idly conversing aboutRapeahead of breakfast will spoil any girl’s appetite. Or maybe I’m still clinging to Nash’s words like I have since day one.
Smarter. You need to be smarter, Hailey.
I haven’t eaten since I arrived, other than that sandwich I couldn’t keep down for Darius. I don’t think I should drink either once Blaze leaves. I’m not safe here without him. Darius might be dead, but he wasn’t the only man eyeing me like a toy in that ballroom...
With Blaze gone, who’ll stop them slipping me a few roofies, then climbing through the window once I can’t call for help?
It’s not a rational thought, but fear is rarely rational.
“Can I come with you tonight?” I ask, twisting the towel between my fingers.
He cocks an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the request. He’s not the only one... I just asked to watch those girls get auctioned because I feel safe with the mansellingthem.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Blaze says, weighing every word. “You shouldn’t worry, Hailey. Most of my men are coming along for the show. I’m leaving a few behind, including Rex, who will stand at your door the whole night. You’ll be safe.”
The maid sets the tray on the nightstand, hands Blaze his white coffee and retreats with a respectful bow of her head.
“You need to eat, Hailey,” Blaze says.
I nod, even though one look at the French toast has me covering my mouth with the back of my hand. I’ve never been good at keeping food down in stressful situations.
I do, however, reach for my coffee with less suspicion today. It took me two hours to finish the first cup yesterday morning because I took long breaks between every mouthful. Nothing happened, so I drank the cup Marai brought up in the afternoon much faster, enjoying the bitterness while it was still warm.
I’m also no longer pathologically weak. No longer than twelve hours ago, my hands trembled like an alcoholic on their first sober day, but today, the coffee’s barely sloshing in the cup.
I guess the energy from the sugar is helping.
Blaze rounds the bed, his eyes narrowing on my hands as I lift the cup, taking a small sip.
“Lean forward.”
“No, it’s—”
“It wasn’t a request.Nicedoesn’t work on you. Either you let me take a look at your back voluntarily, or Rex will hold you down while I check your bones.”
I bite my lip, a shudder passing through me. Looks like he ran out of patience.
I set the cup aside and grit my teeth as I scoot forward, ignoring the pain, locking it at the back of my mind with all the other feelings I can’t deal with right now. It doesn’t work particularly well, but it helps brace the agony.
“I’ll pull the hoodie up, so keep the duvet close,” he denotes, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
I can’t figure him out. He’s nice, but it might be a façade, a ploy to ignite a false sense of security before he strikes. He doesn’t want to use force in case it jams my memories, butwhat happens when he realizes playing nice is fruitless? Will he threaten me with a gun or beat the information out of me?
No... he wouldn’t, would he? He keeps saying I’m safe.
I close my fingers on the duvet, pulling it up just as Blaze softly lifts my hoodie. There’s no gasp or sharp inhale. No clues to how bad my back looks.
He gathers the fabric up, then rubs his palm against his pants to warm it up. “I’ll touch you now.”
