Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Her warm, sleep-limp body lies next to mine. I release a quiet sigh of relief, careful not to wake her when I do. She has enough on her mind. I doubt she needs my concerns on top of it.
Opening my eyes, I find her curled up beside me, fists tucked under her chin, and her knees pulled up. She looks so young right now, a fact that I seem to forget frequently. Not that me being more than twice her age is the biggest roadblock in our relationship. Compared to the odds stacked against us, our age gap seems insignificant.
One thing we do have in common is the nightmares haunting us day and night.
If the word haunted had a physical example, it would be an image of Delilah at this moment. Even in sleep, ghosts are chasing her. Threats loom over her shoulder, and though she eliminated one of them, there will be others close behind as a result. They’ll want revenge. It’s only a matter of time.
The thought alone leaves me wanting to pull her into my arms again. Like as long as I’m holding her, she’ll be safe. Nothing will touch her. I want that to be true—it’s unbelievable how much I want it. The way something stirs in my chest when she lets out a shuddery breath that reverberates through her body. Dear God, how I want to wipe away whatever it was that made her do it.
This is a new feeling for me. I never wanted to protect anyone like I want to do with Delilah. Even with Aspen, the urge to keep her safe is not this overwhelming. That thought alone is more terrifying than anything I’ve ever faced.
I’ve never been one to turn away from facts, and the one looming largest is this: the woman beside me tried to kill my daughter. The fact that I haven’t known for long about her being my daughter doesn’t matter. I know it now. I know what’s mine. How can I betray Aspen by protecting someone who pretended to be her friend, then lured her to what would surely have meant her death?
I shake my head. Even now, the thought of Delilah’s betrayal doesn’t stir the same outrage it once did. The last thing I need is to empathize with Delilah, but that’s exactly what I’ve come to do. She never had a chance. Her father’s interest in her only extended as far as her benefit to him. He sold her. The son of a bitch sold her, and I held the contract in my hands.
When I think about that, her actions come into focus. All she wanted was a way to belong. She’s needed a refuge for so long. She was desperate to find it. So desperate, she walked straight into a brothel without the first clue.
Everything she’s done has been a result of that endless longing to belong somewhere. The reality of it all hits me like a brick house. Still, that doesn’t mean she has any business staying with me. A vast cavern of space lies between my sympathy for her and my being with her.
By the time she starts to stir, fully waking up, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to do the only thing that makes sense. For the first time since setting eyes on her, I’ll make the right choice. I won’t be selfish to my needs or even hers.
She’s ignorant to all of this, waking with a start before settling down once she remembers where she is. It takes a moment, and I wait for her to adjust before speaking.
“How did you sleep?”
She blinks rapidly, still clearly adjusting. Her big brown eyes still linger with remnants of sleep. “I didn’t know I slept at all.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I let it perk up. “That’s the best kind of sleep. When you’re in so deep, you can’t even dream.”
She snorts softly. “I didn’t say that. Now that I think about it, I do remember a couple of nightmares.”
Anger sizzles in my veins. “Then stop thinking about it. Let them fade away. Nightmares always do.”
It’s amazing, really. Back at Corium, she was already jaded. Wounded. It was almost entertaining, watching the wheels turn as she tried to come up with yet another way to get around me and escape.
She’s only sunk deeper into that wounded, guarded place. There’s a hardness in her eyes when they meet mine that wasn’t there before, and I hate the sight of it. “What about the real-life nightmares? When do they start to fade away?”
She doesn’t flinch from my touch, something I’m grateful for as I brush long strands of her dark hair away from her forehead. “They’re called memories, and memories fade, as well. Once you’ve put enough time between them and the present day, you’ll imagine they happened to somebody else instead of you. You’ll find they have no power over you.”