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“You have a fever. I’ll call my doctor. Everything’s going to be okay.” A strand of hair is clinging to her cheek, and I push it off her face.
Her eyes snap up to mine, the pretty green rimmed with red. “No. I’m fine.”
“You are so far away from fine.”
It’s minuscule, but I feel her flinch in my arms in response. It’s like ice pouring through my veins, freezing me in place.
I palm her cheeks and search her face. “What is it? Did I do something?”
She shakes her head, but it’s the tears pooling over her eyes and streaming down her face that has my world crashing down around me.
“Misty. Tell me what’s wrong.” My voice is a plea as my hands run over her, looking for any signs of injury. Her dress clings around her thighs. Her breath catches with each inhale—she’s fucking crying. She’s not fucking fine.
“I can’t breathe.” Her words are so low I barely hear them, but it’s her hands tearing at the bodice of her dress that gives away what she means.
Within seconds, I have her freed from the soaking fabric, the top now hanging down to her waist. She’s taking hungry lungfuls of air like she hasn’t had one in hours.
I band my hand around her waist, guiding her into my chest, and kiss the top of her head. Fear clashes with helplessness as I hold her. I hate that I don’t know what’s wrong, but I refuse to push her further.
I run my hand up and down her back in a calming motion, then freeze as my fingers travel over thick, raised ridges.
There are two deep scars on her back, clean, crisp lines that can only be carved by a knife.
She stills in my arms as I trace over them. This is what she’s been hiding. This is what she didn’t want me to see.
Rage burns through my veins, turning my vision red. Whoever dared touch her is going to die for that mistake. Misty grows still in my arms, her eyes downcast, and her hands tremble where they’re holding on to my shirt.
Pain lances my chest at the terror written all over her. There will be time to track the fucker down later. Right now, all that matters is my girl.
I cup her jaw and guide her face up, dropping my forehead to hers. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”
Her breath hitches, and she pauses for several seconds before speaking. “It was years ago…I should be over it by now.”
I had my own personal battles with trauma, and there’s one thing I know for sure. “No one gets to decide when or if they’ll ever be over it. That’s not something anyone should ask from you.”
She sniffs. “He was there tonight.”
Fuck! My teeth grind hard enough to break, but I don’t tighten around her. The last thing I want to become is another person to fear.
“Who was there?”
“Thomas.”
I wait, wait for her to be ready or not. The name Thomas isn’t much of a lead, but combining it with him being at the party narrows the potential dead men extensively.
“He…he raped me.”
I flinch. Muscles spasm throughout my body. The pain in her voice is nearly my undoing. “I will kill him for you.”
“His family is scary well-connected.”
A rough laugh rumbles in my throat. “I can promise you that won’t be a problem.”
“I can never tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“I’m always serious.” I brush our lips together before pulling back.
“Is it wrong that I love that?”
