Chapter Four
Reuben slammed the bolt across the door, the metallic clang echoing in the sudden quiet, the roar of the overhead helicopter all but ceasing to exist. His cramped quarters felt like a sanctuary I had no right to enter, but I drank in every detail anyway, greedy to uncover how normal people lived.
Not that I suspected Reuben was close to normal.
Aged floorboards creaked underfoot. A worn boxing bag hung from the ceiling, skipping ropes dangling from a nearby wall hook, while a faded red, two-seater sofa dominated much of the room in front of a huge screen television that showcased a kickboxing fight.
At the far end of the room, the rest of the space was taken up by a kitchenette, featuring a small refrigerator, a skinny pantry and a couple of overhead cupboards, while the white laminated island counter with its couple of barstools appeared to double as a table and chairs.
To the right above the two-seater sofa was a cramped level that sat a few feet below the ceiling, where a mattress—his bed—slotted into the narrow space.
The only saving grace was a narrow window just above the bed.
I still shuddered. Not even my bat genetics would allow me to sleep in such a narrow space, not after living half of my life in little more than a cage.
“The shower is this way,” he said grandly, as though having such an item was extraordinary.
Perhaps it was in this neighborhood.
I followed him to a door that led to a room barely bigger than a recess, a shower and toilet squeezed inside it. He nodded toward a bathrobe hanging from yet another hook near the handrail and towel. “You can wear that tonight if you like. The towel is clean, I washed it this morning.”
“I’d love a shower,” I admitted in a small voice. Anything to get the feel of the men’s dirty, groping hands off me. Emptying my bladder was becoming a priority now too.
He nodded, his silver-blue eyes softening. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Half-an-hour later, I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in Reuben’s bathrobe, his smoky amber scent clinging faintly to it. That my hair was a mess as it hung in rivulets down my back couldn’t be helped. I didn’t have my usual set of expensive brushes and combs to untangle the many knots.
Reuben was sprawled back in his two-seater sofa, but he immediately sensed me and looked up as I approached.
I smiled, self-conscious with his eyes trained on me. “I tossed my underwear in your laundry basket.” Adam had provided one in the bathroom at home for me. I froze. No! It wasn’t my home, it never had been! I cleared my throat, but my voice came out strained. “I hope that’s okay?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Of course it’s okay. That’s where the dirty clothes are meant to go. I have a cleaner who comes in every second day. She’ll take care of the laundry.” He gestured me closer. “I wasn’t thinking about your hair, allow me to brush it.”
I stared at him, overcome with a need to hightail out of there even as my legs brought me to him as if of their own volition.
He didn’t deserve my mistrust, he’d done nothing but be nice to me.
If it wasn’t for him I had no doubt I’d be back with Adam again, locked away and all too quickly falling victim to Stockholm syndrome.
Reuben placed a cushion on the floor between his thighs. “Sit.”
I did as he asked, hyper-aware of him behind me with my wings flattened as close against my back as possible. It was ridiculous how obedient he made me. I’d fought Adam every step of the way from the moment he’d brought me to his home.
Then Reuben lifted a brush—where had that come from?—and began working through the tangled ends before moving up to my scalp, gently untangling every frazzled strand.
It couldn’t be half as frazzled as my brain. I was beginning to relax and lean against him, my whole body becoming warm and heavy with contentment, my lashes fluttering as drowsiness crept in.
The brush clacked as he placed it on a little table next to the couch, making me jerk back to alertness. Then he stroked a gentle hand down the length of my hair, his touch making me shiver and yearn for more even as I stiffened knowing he was getting too close to touching the outline of my wings.
“Have you ever cut your hair?” he asked.
I nodded. I’d been six or seven when scientists had shaved all my hair off and stuck sensors to my bared scalp, measuring my brainwaves or whatever it was they’d done while they’d put me through various mental and physical tests.
I’d never had it cut since. “Yes,” I said simply. The less he knew the better.
“It’s beautiful,” he said huskily. “You’re beautiful.”
I swallowed hard, vacillating between warm delight and icy indignation.
I ignored both as I pushed to my feet and turned to meet his lazy and faintly amused smile.
I tugged the lapels of my borrowed bathrobe closer together, fidgety under his astute gaze.
“Once my clothes are laundered I’ll be on my way. ”
He pushed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “You’re welcome to stay. I think I’d quite like having you here.”
“Thank you, but—“
“No buts. Stay as long as you like.” He slapped his knees and pushed to his feet, towering over me.
He’d be as tall as Adam? I frowned. I needed to forget about him.
Fate had taken me to Reuben and his small, but safe abode.
Sweeping a hand toward the back wall next to his television, he said, “You must be exhausted.”
I stared at his scraped, irritated knuckles, two of which were clearly swollen. He grinned and looked at me with a shrug. “It comes with the job.”
I had a sudden, innate impression of violence and I involuntarily stepped back, twisting my tender ankle and stumbling, my breath hissing.
He frowned, then crouched low, assessing my wound.
“You’ve been hurt.” His entire body stiffened. “Who did this to you?” He shook his head, the bulging veins in his corded neck showcasing barely repressed violence. “I’ll—“
“It’s nothing,” I cut in, almost desperately. I sensed he’d protect anyone he cared about, and though I was little more than a stranger to him, he’d taken me under his wing, inadvertently making me his responsibility. If only he knew I had wings of my own. I hid a wince. I’d bet he’d hate them.
I might look human, but it didn’t make me one.
His desire to protect me though, was all too real. Little did he know his hands would be a battered mess if he tried to hurt everyone who’d hurt me.
The thought of him confronting Adam made my stomach clench.
I didn’t even want to imagine what might happen if they got into a fight.
I’d seen Adam’s technique, he was a fighting machine.
But going by Reuben’s scarred and swollen knuckles and the way the thugs deferred to him, he wasn’t exactly a pushover, either.
That I didn’t want to see Adam hurt made my tension spike.
What the hell was wrong with me? I withheld a bitter laugh.
Aside from my obvious genetics, I was clearly a textbook case of trauma bonding.
Adam had been nothing short of my jailer.
I’d been his asset, his most prized possession. I’d do well never to forget that.
“When did you get this burn?” Reuben asked, his gaze assessing. “It looks recent, maybe a week or two ago?”
My fucked-up genetics had their advantages.
I healed fast. He’d be shocked to know just how recent my self-inflicted burn had been.
Less than twenty-four hours old and it was already fading.
It would probably have been little more than pink, rough skin by now if not for the forceful, abrasive grip on my ankle from one of the thugs in the alleyway.
I shuddered as Reuben probed gently at my skin with his calloused fingertips. My reaction wasn’t from pain or disgust, but from something far too close to yearning. No doubt my animal instinct as much as my human side drove this unwanted attraction, this need to find a mate and continue my lineage.
It was yet another reason I’d had to leave Adam. I refused to act on my growing feelings for him and become intimate with a man who was also my jailer. He might have been waiting until I was twenty-one and an adult, but it’d just been a number in my mind.
“What is that?” Reuben asked, peering closer. “A bit of stick is lodged in your wound.” He looked up, his gaze intense and full of questions. He seemed to know better than to ask any further. “I’ll need to take it out.”
I nodded. “Please.”
Though there couldn’t have been much to grab, he took hold of the end and, in one quick motion, he pulled the stick free.
I flinched, but otherwise I didn’t move, though warm blood flowed then slowed to a drip down my ankle and under my foot. Good. It’d help to get rid of any bacteria.
“My apologies for hurting you,” he said softly.
“Don’t be sorry,” I said with a half-smile. I’d grown tolerant to pain and his quick hands had been far less traumatic than much of what I’d experienced in the past. “You were...gentle.”
He chuckled darkly. “That is one word I’ve never heard associated with my name.” He pushed to his feet, then bent and lifted me in his arms before depositing me on his sofa. “Wait here. There are a few splinters I need to remove before I apply antiseptic and a bandage.”
I sunk back into his seat, reveling in the dented impression that was so much bigger than my own. His scent lingered, something that reminded me of leather and lime with a touch of amber and hazy smoke. I inhaled slowly, deeply, then closed my eyes as I imagined his scent wrapped around me.
“Don’t go to sleep on me yet, Bella.”
I jerked my lashes open, transfixed by the silver-haired man who towered over me. “I’m awake,” I managed to utter. Then I followed his gaze to where my bathrobe was gaping and showing a glimpse of my breasts and I exhaled harshly as I grabbed the lapels and drew the robe back together.
His mouth twisted into a smirk even as he dropped into a crouch and reassessed my burn. “Let’s focus on your ankle,” he said. Then showing me tweezers, he added, “This might hurt.”
I barely felt anything as he picked out the splinters embedded into my flesh.
I was more aware of his roughened hands on my tender flesh, making it tingle.
When he smeared cool antibacterial gel over the burn it was nothing short of bliss.
Then he wound a bandage around my ankle with swift, economical hands.
“You’ve done this before.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice,” he said as he finished with a knot that held the bandage in place.
He lifted his hands. “I wrap my hands at least a couple of times a week.” Before I had a chance to ask questions, he pushed to his feet and reached up to pull down a ladder from the small alcove above.
“It’s getting late—after midnight—you can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Realization hit me at his words. It was my birthday! The irony was suffocating. Adam’s gentle hands had treated this very wound before I’d escaped, and now another man was showing me the same tender care, on the exact day Adam's long wait would have ended.
Reuben cocked a silver brow. “You look like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.” He shook his head slowly. “I have no intention of joining you, at least, not without an invitation.”
“It’s not that,” I said, rushing to reassure him. “You’re just...too big for the couch,” I said, glancing at his tall frame and imagining his legs dangling over the arm of his couch and his big feet all but touching the floor as he slept.
And though I wasn’t keen on sleeping in a bed barely bigger than a crawl space, I was so weary, even his bed in that tiny space was beginning to look welcome.
His eyes sparkled. “I’m also too big for you.”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
His voice softened. “You’ve never been with a man, have you?”
I shook my head, shocked by his openness. “No.”
“Then it’s better—safer—that I sleep down here away from temptation.” His jaw locked then, his eyes tight. “Those men might have killed you—“
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he conceded. “But you’re also an innocent.
They would have torn you apart.” My skin prickled with goosebumps at his words, and he reached out a hand and said softly, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever hurt you.
Like I said, if anything were to happen between us, it would be with your full consent. ”
“Th-that’s good to know,” I said. Then biting my bottom lip, I stuck my foot on the first rung and climbed the ladder up to his bed before I changed my mind.