Page 16 of Don’t Hate Me (Secrets of Ravens Hollow #2)

A scream of pure terror rips through me, and I sit up in a rush, trying to shove the masked man off me. My body trembles as his weight presses down on my limbs, making it almost impossible, but I fight him anyway, battling as best I can to get him off me.

My eyes pop open frantically, and I have to blink a few times as moonlight filters in, illuminating the tangled mess of bed sheets I’m wrestling with.

My heart races wildly as I suck in ragged breaths, trying to get my panic under control.

It was just a nightmare. I thought it was him.

The monster of my nightmares, his face obscured by a dark mask, with that fucking intricate angel tattoo visible on his neck.

Fuck, I haven’t had that nightmare for a long time.

Running a hand through my tangled mess of hair, I wonder what time it is. I flinch, my heart hammering against my ribs, when I realize Orlando is standing in the doorway in just low-slung sweatpants. Where the hell did he come from? I went to bed alone. “Are you okay, treasure? I heard you scream.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, not wanting to get into it with him. This is all his fault, after all. I have those fucked-up dreams because of him.

He moves into his room and sits on the end of the bed, looking back at me like he actually cares about me. “Bad dream?” He reaches for me, his fingers brushing against mine before finding my hand and intertwining them.

The gesture pulls me back into the present with him.

He’s not the man from my nightmare, I remind myself.

“Flashback,” I admit, feeling vulnerable without Onyx by my side to get me through.

He was always there for me in the middle of the night when I would wake up, drenched in a cold sweat, my heart pounding.

Orlando pulls his hand back and stands abruptly, his eyes widening as he takes a step away from the bed.

His eyes close for just a second, as if he’s trying to get himself under control.

Then he moves to his walk-in, returning wearing a black hoody, with a bomber jacket and some wool-lined boots in his hand. “Put these on.”

I scrub a hand over my face, wondering where the hell he wants to take me at this time of night or morning, who knows what it is.

But it’s not like I’m going to get back to sleep now.

I take the jacket from him, shrugging it over my shoulders.

It smells like him, and I catch myself inhaling deeply.

I slip on one of the boots, and he hands me a sock and my ankle brace for the other foot.

Then he carefully helps me up to standing.

He gazes down at me in a way that makes my heart flutter, so much warmth for me, that I can’t understand. “Are you okay to walk, or should I carry you?” His lips curl up at the sides cheekily.

I throw him a look that says like hell he will carry me.

He’s being playful and trying to take care of me when I’m clearly distressed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for all his charm.

He backs off, taking my hand instead. I let him, needing the support as much as anything.

Something has changed between us in the last twenty-four hours.

I feel close to him in a way I know I shouldn’t.

And part of me starts to wonder if he really could be my savior.

As we walk out the front door and along the stone path down to the wharf, he carefully helps me down each of the stairs, his hand still in mine.

As we make it to the wood jetty, I can’t help but smile at him.

Something about all of this just feels so natural and comfortable.

We walk right to the end, and then he sits down with his legs hanging off the sides, helping me to sit beside him.

“This is where you wanted to take me?” I ask, not disappointed, it’s beautiful at this time of the night, but I’m more confused.

“I don’t sleep much either, Sloane. I guess both of us are trapped in our pasts. Sometimes I just come down here and sit under the stars until the sun comes up.”

I offer him a small smile, wondering what keeps him up at night.

His fucked-up papa or the demons he created for himself, living the life he does.

For a long time, we just stay in silence, hand in hand, as the waves gently lap at the rocks on the shore.

I shouldn’t be so comfortable here with him.

But I am. It’s like he gets me in a way not many others ever could.

“I understand why you like it out here, so far away from society. It’s so peaceful. ”

One of his eyebrows rises, a silent question hanging in the air. “A bit different from your life at the club.”

“Total opposite. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life, my job, and everyone in it. But I do wonder what it would have been like if I was someone else and I didn’t grow up in that club.”

“Like the daughter of the vice president?” His lips twist, and I know he’s picturing it. Me in a dress and blazer, not a hair out of place as I’m paraded around, the picture of high society. I’ve tried to imagine it myself, but the idea kind of makes me feel sick.

I chew my bottom lip. “Well, yeah. Who would I have been?” I shrug, not able to see it. I would never have fit into that life.

“Not the owner of a sex club.” He chuckles lightheartedly, making our conversation feel way too relaxed and normal. If I’d met him under different circumstances, we would have been friends, I just know it.

I can’t help but join him; the idea is kind of comical.

From high society to sex club owner, and the life I would choose would be the one I grew up in.

“My mother always said I was too smart to waste my life in that club. She would make me promise to get out and make something of myself. But all I ever wanted was to be just like her. I guess now I know why she was so adamant.”

“And now you’re not so sure where you fit?” he asks a little more seriously, like he really wants to know what makes me tick. What my dreams are.

“Nah, I know I’m doing what I should with my life.

That club is everything to me, the women in it like family.

It’s not just a club that sells sex, it’s a safe zone for these women to come and earn their money knowing they’re protected.

It’s a community that looks out for each other.

That’s why when your brother came in trying to take over it, I fought him over it so much. ”

“You two are explosive together,” he grumbles like he doesn’t like the idea of us in the same room.

I shrug, knowing we are in more ways than one. “He just gets under my skin.”

His eyes meet mine as if he’s searching for something. “Romeo has a way of doing that to people. But you like him anyway.”

I sigh heavily, not sure if I want to admit it to Orlando, but I miss him like crazy. I miss all three of them. More than I ever thought I would. What I wouldn’t give to go head-to-head with Romeo right now then fuck like we hate each other. It would be hot as hell and everything I need.

He moves his hand so it’s cupping my cheek softly. “You can tell me. I won’t tell him, I promise.” He grins.

I can’t help but laugh. “What is this, high school?”

His eyes scan my face, lingering on each feature longer than they should. “You can tell me anything, Sloane, I will keep your secrets,” he says a little more seriously.

I gaze back at him, feeling the crazy pull I have to him again. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

His eyes lock with mine, a possessive glint in their depths, and I know he wants me. But he holds himself back. Keeps a distance, even though I know he doesn’t want to. His rules implied as much. He wants to own me in every way.

I reach into his hair, my fingers running through the soft strands because I just need to touch him.

I know this is getting me into dangerous territory, but I can’t help myself.

“Your brother is so different from you. He’s so forward, demands you give him what he wants, and throws a tantrum if he doesn’t get it. ”

His brow rises, unimpressed, and I feel like I might have just insulted him. “I go after what I want as well, Sloane.” The desire in his voice is damn obvious and does something to my insides.

I study his face for the longest time, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

He’s so damn beautiful like this under the moonlight.

Erratic energy swirls between us like crazy, but I already know he won’t make a move on me.

This will be just like yesterday. “You want me, but you hold back,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“I’m helping you stay alive.”

I nod. “Penitence for your sins,” I agree with him, remembering what he told me earlier.

He rolls his lips, his eyes dropping down to mine hungrily. And I know it doesn’t matter what he says, he wants so much more. “Exactly.”

“Except you have to constantly fight the urge to make me yours. Watching me with all of them, it must have driven you crazy. I was supposed to be yours, I should have married you all those years ago. Instead, you nearly died, and I got away.” Fuck, I know it’s dangerous, but I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth.

I should stop, I know I should, but I want to push him.

I want to know what he really wants with me. What he is capable of.

A wave of darkness washes over him; his face contorts, his eyes flashing, and his normally pleasant expression twists into a mask of fury. “You are mine. Right now I own you, and I have no intention of letting you go. Ever,” he growls, and I know I have gone too far.

I move back from him, needing space, because the way he’s looking at me all possessively is kind of scary. “You don’t own me in the way you want,” I throw back at him, pushing him, because fuck him. Right now, he’s all talk, and I want to see the truth.

He cracks his neck, his dark gaze intensifying. “You’re playing a dangerous game, treasure,” he warns me.