Page 69 of Blissful Devotion

“He made me…” Her words are a jumbled mess, but I make out enough to know I won’t like what I’m about to hear.

It takes me a second to unclench my jaw enough to speak, but when I do, I have to work very, very hard to keep the hatred and raw venom from my voice.

I’m not mad at her, but right now I’m not sure she will understand that, and the last thing I ever want is for her to be afraid of me.

“He made you what, love?” I ask, holding her close to my chest, rubbing what I hope is a soothing hand down her back as she struggles to find the words and the control.

We sit together on the floor for a few minutes before I feel her breathing begin to even out.

“He made me sit on his lap when we ate. I had to feed him. I…” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head, a sob ripping its way from her. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, you don’t have anything to be sorry for, love. You're home now, and he can’t ever get his hands on you again. Nobody will. You’re safe. I promise.”

She slowly lifts her head, peeking up at me through her lashes, and the sadness in her eyes feels like it's holding my lungs hostage.

I thought I needed to know what happened, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing she could say would change the way I feel about her, about our future.

So long as she wants to be here, wants us, well, that’s all I need.

“Would you like to go back and sit at the island? We don’t have to be at the table.”

She licks her lips and takes a deep breath to steady herself before moving back, looking over her shoulder at the table.

“No.” She turns back to me, her eyes wide and vulnerable. “Can we sit near the center? Not at the head?” she asks, her voice full of uncertainty, before she looks down at her lap.

I tuck my finger under her chin and make her meet my gaze.

“We could sit outside in the playhouse if that’s what you needed.” My words have the desired effect, and her lips pull up in a smile. “Whatever you need, we’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

I’ve never meant something more than that; I don’t care what it costs or what we have to do.

Whatever she needs, including the things she might not be able to ask for, starting with someone to talk to.

“You're overthinking it, man. She wanted you before. Just be you.” Oliver pulls a face, and yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best advice. “Okay, maybe, be the you, you were recently, not when you first met her.”

Somehow I don’t really feel like that was better, or that he’ll listen. I know he doesn’t think so, but Kat was into him, even when he was a dick. She just didn’t want to force herself on him, too nice and too worried about his feelings.

She’s amazing like that.

He scrubs a hand down his face and groans, and I almost feel bad for him.

“Stop stressing.” I toss my arm over his shoulder as we hit the bottom of the stairs and head toward the dining room.

“Easy for you to say, everyone loves you,” he mumbles, then stops dead, his face serious as he sniffs the air. “Do you smell something burning?”

He takes off toward the kitchen before I can answer him. If it’s enough for him to worry, we can investigate now and worry later that he might just be crazy if we find nothing.

We round the corner only to find Alex standing alone at the stove, making pancakes, or what I think is supposed to be pancakes at least.

“Where’s Kat?” Oliver looks around as if he might have just missed her.

Not possible, but I can’t blame him. Last night was Alex’s night to watch her, and Oli usually trades him out after breakfast.

She isn’t as wary of us as she was before, but she still tends to enjoy being in her room or the library. We don’t stay with her all the time, even though I would love to. We don’t want to overdo it, but at night she tends to have a harder time.

The smile that pulls at Alex’s lips confuses me, but when he nods toward the dining room, neither of us waits to ask for an explanation.