Page 11 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)

Wren

I can’t believe he paid my medical bill.

Just the prescription alone, at the dosage I need, costs nearly three hundred dollars.

I stare at Dominic, unsure of what to say, and completely in awe of his generosity for someone he doesn’t know, who barged into his appointment uninvited.

I’ve only had someone pay for my medication once before, when he overheard me asking a pharmacist how many pills my twenty dollar bill would get me. I pleaded with the older man not to do it, but he swiped his card, taking away my right to refuse.

I felt so guilty, despite being extremely thankful, that I promised myself I wouldn’t let it happen again. This was my burden to carry, and I didn’t want anyone else trying to shoulder it for me.

To make matters worse, he followed me outside and cornered me behind the pharmacy. He told me I could repay him with my mouth, and warned me that if I didn’t do it, he would tell the police I stole from him.

Young and terrified, I had dropped to my knees in that filthy corridor between the pharmacy and the train station, and given him what he demanded .

I haven’t trusted anyone since. Everything always comes with a price.

My expression shifts, the fear and shame coming back with the unwanted memory. Dominic notices it immediately. Something dark passes over his face, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came. The shift was so fast, I wonder if I imagined it.

“Thank you, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t pay you back,” I confess, my voice small—so small it brings a flush of shame to my cheeks.

I wish I were more like my mother, with her fiery and bold presence, the kind of woman who made no apologies for taking up space.

The truth is, when you’ve been pressed against the grindstone hard enough, for long enough, there is no putting back all the pieces of you that life has worn away.

People want to believe you can survive anything if you just try hard enough, but not all of us are built to survive the cruel hand we’ve been dealt.

The look in Dominic’s eyes is too much. That unfairly beautiful, piercing emerald stare feels as though it is stripping me bare and uncovering all of my disgraceful secrets.

I drop my eyes to my lap, where my fingers are fidgeting like they always do when I’m unraveling.

He steps toward me, his formidable presence invading my space. His inked right hand presses against the side of my face, drawing my eyes back to his .

I still can’t get over how insanely attractive this man is, especially with him so close—his intoxicating scent filling my hypersensitive nose.

“You owe me nothing,” he promises, his voice so low it rumbles from him like quiet thunder. The soothing sound of his voice, and the comforting warmth radiating off his body, feels like protective blanket wrapping around me.

Dominic Kael is otherworldly. He’s like some omniscient, dark god out of a fantasy novel.

Okay, that’s it. I read too much romance. I’m picking up some historical non-fiction from the library next. Or maybe some true crime. Or maybe…

My head feels like it’s stuffed full of thick, soft, billowy clouds.

I notice then that my pain is completely gone, and so is the intense nausea.

I’ve been so caught up in this stranger’s magnetic orbit that I didn’t realize how much better I’m feeling.

That migraine cocktail I was given is working fast.

“I feel better,” I tell Dominic, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Thanks, stranger.”

He lifts his freshly stitched brow in response, a subtle smile curving his lips.

I can’t help but lean in toward him, captivated by the dark look in his eyes.

It’s as though he recognizes the way I’m drawn to him, because the smile on his face shifts, twisting into something a little more unsettling.

It feels like a warning, but thanks to the painkillers, I don’t really care all that much .

“Yep. Just like a hero out of a dark romance book,” I tell him with a little nod, laughing softly at my own stupid joke. If I wasn’t medicated and exhausted beyond belief, I’m sure I’d be a lot less talkative right now.

He lifts his hand, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. The way he touches me is sensual, almost reverent, and it gives me butterflies for the first time in... I don’t even know how long.

Why is he touching me like I matter to him? Why is he looking at me like he sees me, and not just through me like everyone else does?

“I’m not a hero, little lamb,” he utters quietly, still stroking my lip.

I sigh, a quiet and breathy sound, and his hand lowers to wrap around my throat. His thumb strokes my pulse, which races beneath it. Fear unfurls within me, and my eyes widen as I stare up at him.

His fingers tighten, and my breath catches. His gaze narrows at the sound, something akin to thrill flickering in his expression.

Finally, like a red flag raised on a battlefield, panic breaks through the haze.

Run, you idiot.

The words echo in my head, but when I try to shift away from him, he follows the movement. He slides his big body in between my thighs, trapping me on the table. The heat of him overwhelms me, and I curse the animal urge to lean into him and soak it all up .

“Did nobody teach you that running from a predator only triggers the hunt?” His voice is deep and gravelly, like my fear is as intoxicating to him as his scent is to me. The way he looks at me—like a cat gazing at a mouse—makes me realize the rising panic is his new toy to play with.

“Please,” I plead, looking up at him as he towers over me like he enjoys having me trapped here with him. “I have nothing of value, and nothing to offer you.”

“We’ll see.”

Those words feel like a threat, and as he gives my throat another small squeeze, my heart begins thundering in my chest. He leans in, and I’m half-way to hyperventilating.

The door behind us opens with a creak, and the doctor steps in again. If he sees the fear in my eyes, or notices how inappropriately close Dominic is standing to me, he doesn’t acknowledge it. In fact, there is trepidation in his face too.

Whatever he knows about Dominic, it’s written all over his face in a code I can’t fully decipher. It makes me think my instincts about him are accurate.

It’s only when he asks how I’m feeling that Dominic finally releases his hold on me, though he pulls away like he’s hesitant to do so. He turns away from me, pulling out his phone and sending what seems like a long text message.

“How are you feeling now?” The doctor asks, eyeing Dominic wearily.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to focus on the doctor while Stranger Danger over there busies himself with his phone. “Better. The pain and nausea are gone. ”

“Excellent,” he says, adjusting the flow of the IV beside me. “As soon as the bag is empty, you can head home and get some rest.”

Before I can thank the doctor, Dominic is pulling open the door of the room and stepping out without looking back at us. “See you soon, little lamb.”

I watch the enigmatic stranger disappear through the door, and worry coils low along my spine—serpentine and insidious. The feeling brands itself into me, a warning I can’t shake.

The doctor looks at me like he wants to say something, the conflict clear on his face, but he seems to decide against it. Instead, he shakes his head and leaves the room through the other door.

I thought Dominic was heroic; a savior in my darkest hour… but he made made it perfectly clear he’s dangerous. If a hero can swoop in and change your life for the better, what kind of damage can a villain do?

On the bright side, at least I have nothing left to lose.