There should be nothing normal about waking up in a world where the captive becomes a captor’s wifewithoutsignificant struggle, or where the captive begins to notice every single attractive detail about her captor. There should be absolutely nothing normal about...
I’ll stop, because the list goes on and on. But the bottom line is this: there’s nothing normal about it, and I’m crazy.
I grip the edge of the kitchen sink, drinking the glass of water like my life depends on it. The polished kitchen tiles are cold beneath my bare feet.
But I barely register the chill. My mind stays stuck on Leonid’s bare body, with the beads of water trickling down his chest, leaving trails as they disappeared below the towel.
My fingers curl around the marble counter as I fall into a trance.
I try to figure out what this is—this slowly igniting feeling that unfurls around my chest and scrambles my brain when he’s around.
Sometimes, when I’m alone, I’m crazy enough to secretly wish there was a world where the two of us could exist together without the violence and darkness that lurk around him. A world where I could get to know him beyond the dark suits, guns, and the need to always be on guard.
A world where Leo would be mine alone, to have, to hold, and maybe even cherish like it was written in the wedding vows,which is funny since I didn’t mean those words when I said them.
“It’s empty.”
My heart flies to my throat and I lurch forward, scrambling to catch the cup before it crashes to the floor. But my efforts are useless. The kitchen echoes with the harsh sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces against the tile.
“Great! Nowit’sreallyempty,” I huff, dragging a hand through my hair. . “Thanks to you.”
Leonid raises a hand in a silent order for me to stay put while he marches forward and drops to his haunches. He reaches for the bigger chunks of glass, meticulously heaping them in a neat pile on his palm.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I honestly thought you’d recognize my voice by now.”
I open my mouth with a sharp retort, but clamp it shut before I say something stupid. His tone of voice makes me pause—it’s veryun-Leonid-like.It’s much calmer and quieter than anything I’ve heard from him before.
I stare at the silky strands of his long black hair while he keeps his head down and his eyes sharply focused on the broken glass. Thankfully, for my mental health’s sake, he’s put on clothes—a plain black cotton T-shirt and black sweatpants that look comfortable. Even this outfit makes him appear different, in a softer and more approachable way.
He rises to his full height with the glass pile in his hands, and I’m forced to crane my neck backward to look at him.
“It’s not that I don’t recognize your voice. I do. But maybe a normal person would have given me a gentle tap on the shoulder before speaking, since I was clearly lost in thought.”
“I don’t think I’ve misled you by words, actions, or anything else to believe I’mnormal.”
I don’t even need a minute to ponder that. “Sadly, that’s true.”
He pads over to the garbage can, dumps the broken shards into it, and walks back over to me with the warmest expression I’ve ever seen on his face. Then, he raises an eyebrow. “What were you thinking about?”
“Do you pester everyone, or is it just me?”
“It’s just you. Tell me.”
I blow out a breath, ignoring the thrill that flutters through me at his admission. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. It was nothing important.” I briefly glance at his hands, which are resting by his sides. A flicker of warmth settles in my chest at how quickly he intervened, squatting to clear up the broken glass before I could step on a piece and harm myself.
Almost every second of every day, this man surprises me. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man I practically ran away from in the bedroom. The same man I called a monster.
When I look back at him, his eyes are clouded. “What?”
“Thank you for helping me pick that up.” I point at his hands. “But you should wash them. We don’t want the pieces getting into your bloodstream.”
“I don’t think it works that way, Elena.”
I nonchalantly roll my eyes—a stark contrast to how I truly feel at the sound of my name on his lips—and lean my back against the cool counter with my arms folded across my chest. “Still. You should wash them.”
A ghostly smile passes over his lips. “I’m surprised that you actually care.”
“I’m a human being, warm-blooded with an actual beating heart, I must say,” I fire back. “Of course, I also care if you fall down and die right now, since that would make me the happiest woman alive.”
