Page 11 of Don’t Hate Me (Secrets of Ravens Hollow #2)

It’s late when I hear him enter his room again.

He closes his door and locks it in place with a fingerprint on the security panel, then moves toward me where I lie in his bed.

I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t dare move.

Eventually he moves past me into the bathroom, and I hear him flick on the shower.

A nervous knot forms in my stomach knowing he’s about to come and sleep next to me.

The man I have been scared of most of my life.

But he’s not that man, at least I don’t think he is.

I try to remember that night and imagine how I could have gotten him wrong.

But his intentions were clear. I can feel the terrorized scream that ripped from my lungs as he lifted me and crashed my body down on the bed with him violently.

I remember his words. “This is going to be fun,” he said as a cruel smirk stretched across his face.

His eyes glinting with menace as he peered down at me through his mask.

A sharp, distinct angel tattoo staring back at me, its intricate details etched cleanly into my brain forever.

He wanted to hurt me that night, I’m sure of it.

Fortunately for me, Onyx was right there by my side, fighting off the other attacker and doing everything he could to help me. Things would have been very different if he wasn’t there.

At one point I thought that was it for both of us, our attackers seemed to be stronger.

And even though I knew how fierce Onyx was, I was letting us down.

I couldn’t do anything to fight off Orlando.

His fingers dug into my arms as he pinned me down under him.

My heart raced out of control, and my eyes blurred with tears.

But I didn’t give up, no matter how helpless I felt against his overpowering strength. I kept fighting him.

I managed to bring my elbow up, connecting with his chin and forcing him to loosen his grip for just a second.

Long enough I could scramble up the bed, but he was far too quick for me.

My face burned in pain as he slapped me then pinned me down with his large hand holding both of mine above my head.

His body moved over mine as his knees knocked mine out wide.

I might have been young, but I wasn’t naive, I knew what he wanted to do to me.

I told him to get off me, cursed at him.

But that only made him chuckle darkly. That’s when I kneed him in his balls with all the power I had in me.

Even though it was satisfying as hell to get something over him, it only slowed him down for a split second and made him angrier.

“You’re going to regret that, little girl,” he seethed bitterly, as he got his hand right up under my skirt and ripped my panties from my body. I can still feel his hands on my skin.

Then there was the loud bang that changed everything, once then twice.

And his body crashed over me, covering me in his blood.

I had nightmares about it for years. I could still smell the metallic tang in the air.

I was sure Onyx had killed him just like he did the other guy.

Till two days ago, I would have bet my life on it.

How is the man who took care of me tonight the same man who attacked me? It doesn’t make any sense.

The shower shuts off, and I roll onto my side facing away from his side of the bed and lie as still as I can, shutting my eyes up tight. I wait for the inevitable, for Orlando to join me in bed.

Not long after, I feel him throwing back the covers on the free side, the crisp cotton sheets rustling against the mattress. He moves in beside me smelling fresh and clean, a hint of the lavender and chamomile bodywash he used in the bath.

I keep my eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be asleep. I can’t deal with him any more today.

He rolls toward me, and I feel his hand reach out and touch my arm ever so lightly.

My body goes rigid, but if he can tell, he doesn’t act like he can.

He sweeps my long hair over my shoulder, then continues to gently brush it with his fingers.

I don’t dare move, frozen, not sure what he’s about to do.

“Don’t hate me, treasure,” he whispers, his words barely audible.

Then he places a kiss on my shoulder and rolls over to the other side of the bed.

It’s not long before I hear his breathing even out and I know he’s asleep.

But I’m left wide awake. What the fuck was that?

That’s what he said to me tonight as well.

Don’t hate me . Does he want my forgiveness?

My understanding? I can’t give him any of that.

Not with the memories still so prominent in my head.

He might be helping me now, but what happens when he snaps and the real him shows his evil head.

He can’t have changed that drastically in the past nine years, even if it appears like he has.

When I wake up, the sun is streaming into Orlando’s room and his arm is slung over me, my back to his chest. Our bodies are all cozy and warm together like they were made to be this close.

I freeze.

I’m shocked I let him get so close, even if it was in my sleep.

I must have eventually fallen back asleep in the early hours of the morning when my racing thoughts exhausted me.

His breathing is peaceful, a soft hum against my ear, and in any other situation, this would feel comforting.

But I don’t trust this man, not for a second.

My ankle throbs like a bitch, reminding me of how stupid I was last night.

I guess the painkillers have worn off now.

I’m also desperate to pee, so I know I’m going to have to swallow some concrete and harden up and hobble to the toilet, pain or not.

I bring my elbow back into Orlando’s gut as hard as I can.

He stirs, but his grip doesn’t falter. “What did you do that for?” he complains sleepily.

“I need to use the bathroom and you’re gripping me so damn tight I can’t move,” I throw back at him. What the hell did he expect thinking he could touch me? After some sleep, I have found my voice again, along with my bitchy-as-hell attitude, thank fuck for that. Part of me thought I was broken.

Reluctantly he releases me, flopping onto his back. “Had to make sure you wouldn’t escape in the night,” he mutters, but I can tell he’s only half serious.

I sit up with a pained groan, glancing back at him as I do.

His hair is hanging over his eyes with a little wave to it.

He looks way too gorgeous for this hour of the morning.

“We both know you locked me in, and I can hardly walk. Otherwise, I would have tried as soon as you were asleep,” I snip back, just to keep him on his toes.

I go to stand up and wince as soon as I try and apply pressure to my sore ankle. Damn it, I really fucked it up.

He’s out of bed and by my side in an instant, taking my arm carefully.

“I’m fine, I can walk to the bathroom.” I try to shove him away, but he doesn’t budge.

He stares me down, his face growing more serious. “Stop being so damn stubborn, Sloane, let me help you.”

I glare back at him but that only makes things worse, because it’s then I notice he’s just in black sleep pants, low-slung and showing off every rippled muscle of his perfect abdomen all the way down to his Adonis belt.

Fuck, he’s a god. I have to close my mouth to stop drooling.

“Fine,” I snap at him just because I know I clearly can’t do it alone, not because I want his help.

Pleased, he snakes his arm around my waist, the warmth radiating off his body way more comforting than I want it to be as he helps me to the bathroom.

He releases me once I’m safely inside and closes the door for me, looking me over in a way I don’t appreciate.

Too much warmth or something I don’t want from him.

Doing my best to lean on my good leg, I do my business, then wash up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror.

I’m bruised and battered, the scratches of last night, now red lines with blue bruises under the skin, run up my arms and over my legs.

My feet are also covered in marks. My knees look terrible, swelling and bruising all around them.

My face looks haggard, bags hanging under my eyes in a way they never have before from such lack of sleep.

I take a washcloth and realize I’m trembling like crazy.

I stare at my hands, trying to get the shaking under control, but I can’t.

It feels like my body is freaking the fuck out.

Carefully I wash my face, but my appearance doesn’t improve.

This is me now, guess I have to rock the half-dead look.

With a heavy sigh, I prop my ass on the edge of the bath so I can unwrap the compression bandage covering my ankle. A wave of nausea comes over me when I see how terrible it looks. It’s swollen up all over, bruising running from my calf all the way down to my toes.

Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. It really could be broken. On shaky legs, I cling to whatever I can to walk back to the bedroom. I open the door to find Orlando waiting for me on the other side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, seeing my face.

I motion to my ankle, and he winces when he sees how bad it is. His reaction makes me worry even more.

“I’ll call my doctor for you after breakfast. Why did you take it out of the bandage?” he asks, a hint of anger in his voice.

I shrug, feeling like I’m in trouble. “I wanted to see how bad it was.”

With his arm wrapped tightly around me, he helps me back to the bed and takes the bandage from me. Kneeling down in front of me, he takes my sore ankle and starts wrapping the bandage back around.

I watch him, unable to take my eyes off him. If I didn’t know the truth, I would be seriously swooning right about now. A handsome-as-hell man on his knees before me, taking care of me, it’s a little too dreamy to be true. That’s how I know it’s not.