Page 40 of The Lies We Tell
“The night you saved me? Yeah. I guess ... I knew it was my last chance. I was being transported to my final home. And I knew if they had a chamber like the one I’d been in, my hope wouldn’t last long enough for me to be found.”
I tug her arm and pull her close, spooning myself around her. “You were brave, sweetheart. You saved yourself. You had courage. Circumstances made it waver, but you overcame the doubts and kept the faith in yourself. That the timing was right. That your option was now. That you could escape two armed men. You had courage at the very worst of times.”
“Says the man who faced down bombs.”
I wrap my arms tight around her. “It was my choice. I was courageous in a situation I’d been trained for.Youwere courageous when being brave was all you had. Go to sleep, Rose,” I say, planting a gentle kiss on her lips.
She called me Ryker, and I let her.
Because for one night, I want there to be nothing but truths between us.
15
BRIAR
The concrete is smooth beneath my fingers, and my hips ache from sitting on it for so long. The door creaks as it opens, and the man comes in.
The buyer, my captor tells me.
My stomach clenches. There’s nothing in it to vomit. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I don’t even know what time it is. He walks towards me, and my breath starts to come in gasps. I push my heels against the concrete, sliding away from him toward the wall.
He keeps walking, smiling softly, like he’s approaching a skittish kitten rather than an abducted woman.
I keep pushing with my heels, even though there is nowhere for me to go.
“My wife,” he says.
“I’m not,” I say.
“You have no choice.” He reaches for the strap of the silk slip I was forced to change into and nudges it off my shoulder, but I grab it. Before I can put it back in place, the blow comes fast and hard, smashing the side of my face into the wall.
Everything aches. I taste blood in my mouth.
He says nothing, simply reaching for the strap to push it off my shoulder again.
I turn feral, smacking his hand away, shoving him hard with one of my feet, knocking him back onto his ass. And I know I’m beat when he grins. He pins me to the wall, rakes his fingers down my cheek and whispers, “I like it better when you fight.”
I cry out and—
“Briar. Rose.”
I don’t know who’s calling me, but I need to get out of this place. I need to—
Someone shakes my shoulders. “Briar. It’s me. Wake up.”
I suck in air as my eyelids flip open. I repeat the action of the room, pedaling my feet into the mattress to scramble up against the headboard and wrap my hands around my knees.
“Shit. Shit,” I mutter. Everything is tense. My shoulders and spine. My fingernails dig into my palms.
Saint kneels in front of me. He’s turned a lamp on. I focus on him, using him to bring me back to the present. His hair is thick and wild. His eyes are blue and clear. Tattoos cover his chest and arms, and I wonder what they all mean, what they are for.
“Breathe with me,” he orders, and I do. Breathing in when he does. Breathing out when he does. I watch his pecs expand and contract. I watch his chest rise.
Slowly but surely, I leave the dream behind.
Slowly but surely, the cold I felt is replaced with warmth.
When I sigh and drop my shoulders from my ears, he reaches for my hand.
