Page 19 of Wild Heart
He presses the towel to the cut, and the water going into the open wound stings like hell. I bite my teeth together to keep from flinching. My father brought me up to be strong, and I’m not about to cry over a tiny wound.
Raiden must notice my body tense, because he looks up at me and smirks.
“It’s okay to feel pain, Isabella.”
I keep my expression neutral. “I’m a Berone. I don’t feel pain.”
It’s what my father would have the world think, but I’m teasing Raiden. He chuckles, and I can’t keep my face straight.
It’s nice to hear him laugh. Most people are scared of me and they don’t get my deadpan humor, but this man sees into my very soul.
He’s leaning so close to my leg that my skin prickles from the heat of his breath. I grip the sides of the armchair as the butterflies in my belly turn to something deeper. A tug in my core and a rising heat that makes me want to take his callused hand and slide it up my thigh.
He finishes cleaning the wound and reaches for a bandage. His breathing is ragged and he doesn’t speak, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same intensity of emotions that I am.
I’ve never been with a man before. I’m Catholic like my mother, and I’ll not bed a man until I’m married to him. But so help me God, there are things I’d like this man to do to me that I can’t explain. I’m not a sinner, but the way his fingers gently stroke my leg as he puts the bandage on and the heat in his eyes has me ready to go to the devil for what I need from him.
I drop my leg as soon as he puts the bandage on. These feelings are too intense, too confusing. I’m a woman who likes to be in control, and what Raiden’s making me feel has my mind and body in a whirl.
He stands up and reaches out a hand to me.
“Let’s get that makeup off. I want to see your face.”
I follow him to the bathroom. There’s none of the expensive makeup remover that I’m used to. But when Raiden puts soap on a flannel, I don’t care.
I sit on a stool as he instructs, enjoying being fussed over.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, he wipes across my eyes several times. It will be streaky and it’ll probably cause a breakout, but I don’t care. I’ve never been looked after in this way before. It reminds me of my mother wiping the mud off my face when I was a child.
“You still going by Trina?”
I open my eyes to find Raiden so close that I can see flecks of amber among the chocolate of his eyes. “Your fake name.”
I laugh, remembering the fake ID I had made up to get into White Out. “No, Carmenta was what I used today.”
“The Italian goddess.”
I arch my eyebrow, impressed. “You know Roman mythology?”
“It would have been lost on those men.”
There’s a tightness in his voice, and a flash of anger crosses his features.
He’s jealous.
The realization makes me smile. I thought he was treating me like a naughty child, but if he’s jealous, then it means hedoesfeel something for me.
I should tell him about my real reasons for running. Maybe he can help. But what could Raiden do against my father’s wishes? It would bring a world of pain to his club. This is my own battle to fight.
“You can stay here for as long as you need.”
Raiden runs the flannel under the tap, and a mix of colors wash into the sink. It’s not a casual offer. He’s putting himself at risk.
“My father might kill you.”
It’s not an idle threat but a fact. My father has a reputation for heavy handed justice.
