Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“What the fuck,” Dragon rumbles.
I shoot him a scathing glare that has him rising and cracking his neck. Katana stands, placing his body in front of him.
“Prez,” Filter starts, but I stop him with a shake of my head.
“She needs to eat and bathe and be warmed the fuck up,” I explain, my words coming out choppy and angry. “Who the fuck wants to argue with me?”
Filter and Halo exchange a look and then Filter holds his hands up in surrender.
“Do what you gotta do, Prez. We got your back,” Filter assures me.
Some of the guys mutter angrily, but I ignore them all. I carry her up to my room and into the bathroom. With her still clinging to me, I start a hot bath. She whimpers when I try to peel her away from me.
“Want bubbles?” I ask, patting her back.
She nods. “Please, Daddy.”
Not Blaire. Not Blaire. Not Blaire.
But she feels like mine.
Gently, I manage to pull her from me and make her stand on her own two feet. I add in some bubbles that are under the sink. More of Stormy’s weird girly shit she leaves all over the house that I am suddenly thankful for.
Soon, the bathroom smells like lavender.
“Get in,” I instruct, motioning for the steamy bathtub.
She drops the blanket and gingerly steps into the hot water. She hisses and whines but then settles in the water. With the bubbles rising around her in the large tub, she seems so small. Her dark hair hangs in her face as she stares down at the water.
“Do you want me to bathe you, baby girl?”
Hadley
Holy shit. It worked. I knew poking at him about his daughter was chancy considering how much it still haunts him, but it worked. He felt sorry for me. Somehow projected her onto me. Now he wants to save her.
Survival is the only thing on my mind at this point. If it means playing the part of Blaire, I will. Anything to make him treat me like a human rather than a prisoner. It was as though he flipped a switch. Went from being a psychopath to a father. I don’t care why or how it happened, just that it did.
He kneels down beside the bath and sets down a bar of soap, two bottles of what must be shampoo and conditioner, and a washcloth. He grabs the cloth and dunks it under the water that’s slowly rising. I groan when he runs it over my cold back, chasing away the chill. The heat feels good on my aching muscles. Gently, he washes my back and shoulders and then my face and neck. It’s done so efficiently like one would bathe a child. I don’t fight him or try to seduce him. I simply let him clean the horrors of the past two months off me. His hand dives between my thighs and he removes any lasting remnants of Magna, making me sigh a breath of relief. Once he’s finished, he motions for the water.
“Dunk your hair so I can wash it.”
I do as I’m told and then sit back up. He squirts some shampoo into my dirty hair and then massages it into my scalp. His gentleness breaks something inside me. I start to cry because I just want someone to care for me like this all the time. I hate my life and the people in it. It’s nothing but heartache and pain. This, right now, feels anything but painful. It feels right.
“Shhh,” he croons, “don’t cry, sweetheart.”
“You’re being so nice and gentle. I don’t want it to go away.”
He grips my jaw, tilting my head up to look at him. “It’s not going away.”
Tears flood down my cheeks and I nod, though I don’t believe him. He surprises me when he leans forward and kisses my nose.
“Let’s get you finished up here.”
The rest of the bath goes by quickly and soon he’s wrapping me up in a giant towel. He scoops me into his arms, but I touch his cheek, halting him.
“Can I please brush my teeth? I can still taste the puke.”
He frowns, his dark eyes filled with pain. “Of course.”
The counter he sets me on is cold and I shiver. He grabs a toothbrush and puts toothpaste on it. He watches like a hawk as I scrub my teeth clean. Once I’m done, he carries me into his room and sets me on the edge of the bed. He scrounges in some drawers before finding sweats and a hoodie. I let him pull the towel away and then dress me.
“Warm yet?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern.
“Yes, Daddy.”
My words seem to please him because he smiles. The smile is wiped away when someone knocks.
“What?” he barks out.
“Brought food,” Bermuda bellows back.
Koyn strokes his palm down the side of my face before stalking over to the door. He flings it open and takes a plate from Bermuda. Bermuda also hands him a Coke. Koyn dismisses him with a slam of the door. Then, he walks back over to me before sitting down.