Page 32 of Gilded Locks

“From the docks. Then, through heat tracking in the storm. How are your feet?”

His awareness of such detail surprised her. She just started to regain full feeling in them. She’d been able to stand and walk, but now little pricks of pain were sneaking past the numbness.

“I asked you a question.”

“They’re sore.”

“Let me look at them.”

“I’m fine?—”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Too tired to challenge him, she lifted her leg. He cupped her heel and examined a few tender spots with the pad of his thumb, then set it back in the water. “Wash them well. After your bath, we’ll wrap them.”

She was a mess.

Stone, unlike his so-called brother, understood she needed more rest before she would be fully functioning. He pressed a button, and the water started to drain, but he turned the faucet on, refreshing the clouded water. “Soak for as long as you like. When you’re finished, rinse off.” He stood to leave.

“Th-thank you for the ice.”

He paused at the door but only nodded, never looking back.

She waited a long time for Ash to return, but he never did. Maybe he heard Stone had brought her the ice for her shoulder and saw no need to come back. She disliked the disappointment that followed his absence, certain only a crazy person would miss her captor.

That’s because you are crazy…

She shook off the taunting voice in her head and whispered, “I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.”

Whenever her thoughts got too dark, she needed to move. She was still too overwrought to feel settled, and she didn’t want to get too comfortable in a place that required her mind to stay sharp.

“Nice and big.” She breathed in. “Blow it out small.” She exhaled. “Just right,” she whispered, forcing herself out of the tub and into the shower.

After she rinsed off, she examined her reflection, curling a lip at the brass bear every time she recalled it was there watching her. As she moved, she swore the eyes of the brass bear moved with her.

She glared at the frozen face. “Enjoying the show?”

Rolling her eyes, she turned, lowering the towel a bit so she could glimpse the full bruise on her shoulder. It looked worse than it felt. Until she touched it. Poking the dark skin definitely was not recommended.

Tightening the towel around her chest, she returned to the empty tub and sat on the marble perimeter. What now?

She didn’t want to go back to the men, and she didn’t know where she was supposed to wait. Should she rest? There was a perfectly tempting bed in the next room. Sleep was all she wanted to do at that moment. The days of running and struggling had fully caught up to her, and she felt dead on her feet.

Too exhausted to figure out a better solution, she lowered to her side and used the folded robe as a pillow under her damp hair. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she’d figure out what to do.

Next thing she knew, she was being lifted against a rock-hard chest and carried through the hall. Glancing through her lashes, she caught a spattering of scars under a jaw full of scruff and stiffened.

Hunter gave an order in Russian that commanded her to be still without translation. Where was he taking her?

He carried her through the corridor and down the steps into a vaguely familiar room. He didn’t put her down until he pulled back the covers. She recognized the armoire from last night.

“Sleep now.” He pulled the heavy covers to her chin, tucking the edges tightly around her arms in a way that made her feel slightly trapped. The enormous bed engulfed her in heavy furs and silk.

But when he removed his shirt, her relaxed state shifted abruptly to panic. “Wait.”

He stilled, one hand on his belt, eyes warning her he took orders from no one. Especially her.

Her gaze dropped to the scar on his back. The raised edges formed the familiar muzzle of a bear. That wasn’t the mark of an injury. That was burned into his skin intentionally. She wondered if it was his intention or someone else’s?