Page 42 of Redemption

I cup warm water in my hand and carefully wash the paint from her heartbreaking face.

It’s not only her beauty that’s making my chest ache now. There’s a dull throb in my heart with each heavy beat.

“Abigail.” Her name is almost a growl this time, a warning that demands her attention.

“What do you want, Dane?” The question is soft and flat.

She sounded like this when she first woke up in my arms this morning. I’d thought she was woozy from the lingering drugs. Now, I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how to interpret this strange mood.

“I want you to look at me.”

Her eyes open, and they instantly shine with fresh tears. They mingle with the warm water as I wash the last of the paint from her cheek.

“You’re okay,” I soothe her. I suppose our scene in the studio was intense. Some residual emotion is understandable. “Stay here with me. You’re safe.”

She closes her eyes again and turns her face away from my tender touch.

She doesn’t say anything in reply.

“Talk to me,” I urge.

“What do you want me to say?” That flat tone sets me on edge. It’s far more disturbing than when she was screaming at me.

“I want you to say that you’re all right. You know I’ll always take care of you. Tell me, Abigail. Tell me you’re mine.” The last is rough with something like desperation.

Her next breath shudders as she inhales, but that’s the only sound she makes.

“Answer me,” I command.

“I’ve never been less safe in my life.”

Her whispered words are a dagger to my heart.

“No,” I refute. “I will always protect you. Always.”

I’ve killed for her. I would do anything to keep her happy and safe.

Her eyes remain closed, her expression completely blank.

“There’s no one here to protect me from you.”

I reel back as though she’s sucker punched me.

“You can’t mean that.” It’s an order. I won’t tolerate it.

I can’t bear it.

“What do you want me to say, Dane? Just tell me what you want to hear, what you want me to do. You’ve made it crystal clear that my wishes don’t matter. You won.”

I bare my teeth like a cornered animal, but she doesn’t open her eyes to see my anguished expression.

“This was never a battle of wills,” I correct her. “I don’t want towin. I just want you. All of you.”

“And you have me right where you want me. You made sure of that.”

She doesn’t even sound spiteful. That detached tone makes my insides churn.

“Not like this,” I insist.

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