Page 151 of Jagged Souls

After… after, maybe…

Hating the weakness clawing so desperately at my skin, I turn off the shower and step out. Hoping there’s still a towel on the railing, I grope around for it. It’s still a bit damp from yesterday, but I pat myself down, ruffle the few inches of hair I have on my head, then wrap it around myself.

My throat closes as I realize this is the first time I have been ‘clothed’ in… I don’t know how long. I’ve lost track of the time. It feels like I’ve been captive for years, but I touch my hair and know it has only been a month, maybe two. It takes hair a year to grow six inches on average. It was just below my ears when Rafiki… when I got attacked; Sau made me grow it out once I became engaged to her son so I could look more the part of a Boss’ wife.

My heart twists with longing for my daughter.

She should be the one still in my womb.

I should be able to feel her kicking by now.

I waited so long to feel her move, and the only time…

I rip the towel off me, wishing it were my skin. Wishing I could dig into my belly just like Antonio did and tear out this unholythingthat’s now inside of me.

My hands fisting in the cotton, I hold on to that rage, on to that desperate need for violence. Then I carry the towel over to the bed, drop it on the floor, and climb onto the mattress tucking my legs beneath my ass.

The door to my room opens not much later. Footsteps creep closer as Bear says, “Morning, angel.”

There’s a lift to his tone, a hop in his step; he thinks he’s about to get his rocks off – and he will, but not in the way he wants.

Ducking my head, I shyly say, “Hello.”

Like a little girl to her teacher on her first day of school. How many children did he have access to? How many did helove? How many parents did he shake hands with and tell them their little baby wasspecial?

I keep my head down, focusing on my breathing. He isn’t in his wolf form, so his nose isn’t as sharp, but he’ll still be able to sense the danger in the air if I think about how many ways I want to kill him.

And I need him to get closer. Need him to bring me my breakfast and the utensils that come with it. Fork or spoon, it doesn’t matter. I can kill him with either.

“I made a special breakfast for my special girl,” he says.

With my face hidden, I could pass for a preteen with my flat chest and tiny stature, but he likes them younger than that. He’s either imagining me as someone else, just like I got him to do last night, or he’s decided beggars can’t be choosers.

Either way, my stomach churns. I keep my face flat as he approaches the bed. The smell of syrup tickles my nose as he places a tray on my lap.

“It’s pancakes in the shape of a bear’s face,” he says, like a father rewarding his little girl. “Blueberries for her eyes, and bacon for her mouth. And look at her hair. I did it just like yours with some whip cream and syrup. Do you like it, angel?”

My skin crawling, I nod. Pancakes and bacon means a butterknife and fork. Him making this, though, means he was most likely a father at some point.

I struggle to keep my face expressionless as I think about him hurting his ownspecial girl.

“And I got you a present too.” He sits down beside me and runs a hand across my face, pushing my wayward bangs out of my eyes. The sound of liquid shaking in a small vial has my heart jumping into my throat.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you have some.”

I turn into his touch, my body needy, my pain desperate to be quieted. “I’ll be a good girl just for you,” I say even as my stomach churns in self-disgust. But fighting it is too damn hard when it’s right in front of me.

He removes his palm from my face. There’s the clatter of cutlery, then he’s pushing a knife and fork into my hands. “Just eat all of your breakfast, okay?”

Where did he put the vial? I need to make sure I don’t break it when I attack him.

I start to shake, start to second guess my plan.

“You can search his body after, Micha. Do this for me.”

Anything for you, Dayne.

I promised I would protect him. I promised myself I’d be someone he would be proud of – a protector of those who couldn’t protect themselves. We found a way to fight his demons together. We rose from the pain of his childhoodtogether.I might crave the V with every part of my being, but I cannot fail him.