9. Adrian
NINE
ADRIAN
CONNOR
Ishould probably look up how much sedative is too much. Especially since Haven is a twig of her former self, there’s a pretty good chance I’m overdoing it.
I had no choice, though. Not now, and not last night, either. When she started to stir as I was first carrying her in the house, I wasn’t ready to face the reality of the situation just yet, just like I have to accept I might’ve been pushing her too hard already…
It had been a long night. The drive to Hamilton, the rush home… the relief mingled with my adrenaline crash had me dozing for part of the ride back, though that might’ve also been because—for the first time ever—I had Haven Smith in my arms.
It didn’t last. It couldn’t. The way she whimpered while she slept, how I noticed another mark, another bruise, another discoloration every time I stared down at her…
the rage burned away most of my contentment.
She survived. That’s what I told myself to keep from snapping.
She was strong enough to survive whatever those fuckers put her through.
She’ll be strong enough to recover from it, too.
I’ll be right there with her. Right at her side.
As much as I want to put her somewhere safe, then run off to avenge her, that would be selfish.
Haven needs me, and before Adrian dropped the two of us off at my place, I asked him and the rest of my bros if they’d take care of Winter for me if they could.
Dallas agreed instantly. So did Bas. Adrian told me that he already has feelers out, plus a bounty on Winter’s head. Des… he told me he’d get back to me, and if I need a lawyer, I know who to call.
Part of me wanted to kick him on my way out of the SUV.
Another part was too aware that I was cuddling precious cargo.
I’d looped Haven’s arms around my neck, holding her close as I climbed out of the car.
Fuck Desmond. He’s the only one of us who doesn’t know what it’s like to love with his whole heart.
I should’ve expected such a response from him, and out of respect for the fact that he did show up tonight, I just nodded and thanked him.
Haven was quiet all the way down the walkway, up the porch steps, into the front hall.
By the time I was taking the stairs to head toward my bedroom, she was on her way to waking up.
I couldn’t let that happen. I had too much shit to prepare, and there was no denying the exhaustion weighing her down when we found her.
My precious sleeping beauty required a good twelve hours sleep at least. Luckily, I had a spare sedative in my nightstand.
Once I laid her down in the middle of my bed, I shot her up, letting out a sigh of relief when she finally, finally went completely under.
The sedatives are geared for my weight. They knock me out from anywhere between twelve hours and fourteen, depending on whether I’d eaten or how many days it had been since I last slept.
Assuming that Haven would probably get closer to sixteen in her state, I didn’t jump to prepare my house for Haven’s arrival.
Instead, my fingers shaky, my breathing rough, I kicked off my shoes and joined her in the bed.
I curled up next to the blissfully unconscious Haven, stroking her hair, watching her sleep.
I hardly blinked, as though she might disappear in the split second when my eyes were closed.
She was taken from me so easily, and the longer I have her in my possession, the more I’m sure that this…
this is the best thing I can do for her.
This is the only thing I can do for her…
Eventually, I did fall asleep. I hadn’t meant to, but having Haven in my bed… I don’t think I’ve even felt so fucking peaceful in my life. It’s certainly the first time I slept through the night since I discovered she was gone without the help of a sedative.
When I got up this morning, it was super hard to make myself leave the bed.
I needed to, and I told myself it was for Haven’s sake.
As much as I hoped that I would be returning to Harmony Heights with Haven, up until the moment Adrian suggested bringing her to the Fortress, I hadn’t planned on taking her home with me.
In hindsight, it seems so obvious. Of course I would invite her to stay with me until she was back to being herself.
But then she slept for almost twenty-four hours. Scared the goddamn shit out of me, had me checking every twenty minutes to make sure that she was still breathing. Even then, I think I had convinced myself that, once Haven was able to take care of herself, I’d let her go.
I know better now.
Earlier, I admitted to Haven what I’ve probably known all along: my home is her home now.
I’m not letting her leave me. Not like this.
It’s not even just that she can’t speak or she flinches every time I so much as breathe in her direction.
She slapped me, then reacted like an abused pet, waiting to be struck. She can’t talk and won’t eat.
I said I was afraid she would hurt herself. I mean that more than ever, and I only hope that a second dose of sedative in as many days isn’t too much for her.
Now Haven is upstairs in my bedroom again, fast asleep because I had no choice but to sedate her after she tried to walk out of the house while I was making breakfast. I stopped her, and I tried to feed her, and when she refused, I did the most reckless thing I could think of to bring her out of her shell: I told her that I loved her.
Yeah… that could’ve gone better. I mean, if she laughed at me, I could’ve handled that.
If she snorted, telling me that I was full of shit—even though I’m not—that would’ve been fine.
But the lost, confused look that flittered across her haunted features, like she couldn’t understand why anyone would love her?
I was dancing too close to the edge. I didn’t want to lose my cool in front of Haven, and if she wasn’t going to eat, she could sleep again.
So I drugged her. Not my finest moment, I admit.
Then again, it’s not my worst when it comes to my obsession with this woman, either, and isn’t that a fucked-up thing to admit?
While she was… sleeping, I called Adrian and asked if he could find me a doctor willing to make a housecall.
Not an Order doctor loyal to Jack, either. Abso-fucking-lutely not. Knowing that Dallas is slated to be King one day, there are more than a few members of the Order who are loyal to the future leader and, right now, I trust Dallas’s people more than one who kisses Jack Collins’s ass.
I also insisted they be a female doctor. She would come alone, be gentle and careful as she examined Haven, and leave with enough of a donation for her practice or her clinic or whatever to forget that she ever was in my house so long as she takes care of my girl.
And though I’m concerned about her injuries and how pinched her face is, how dehydrated and starved she must be, that’s not why I demand a female doctor with ties to the Order in particular.
The Order has ways of telling if an Offering is still a virgin. For any Owed who doubts that his new bride is as pure as she claims, they’ll check, with the Claiming ceremony only becoming a wedding once it’s been confirmed.
I want to say that it doesn’t matter to me whether or not any of those bastards hurt Haven in that way.
They obviously hurt her more than enough, with Andino’s crude comment putting all sorts of horrors into my mind that make me wish I could kill him a second time.
Still, the moment the doctor confirms that she’s still ‘intact’—and isn’t that a fucking ugly word to use about my future wife—I can’t shake the relief that shudders its way through me.
My relief… it’s not for the reason most would think.
If those men had deflowered Haven, the Order would’ve used it against her.
Sexual assault or not, the bastard of a King would declare her Used.
He still might, just because she isn’t the perfect Offering he hand-picked for Adrian.
Good thing that Adrian would never accept her.
Of course not. Haven is mine.
The sedative doesn’t last as long this time. About ten hours later, the door to my bedroom creaks inward, a ghost of a woman prepared to tiptoe out into the hall.
I’m sitting on the floor, positioned opposite of the bedroom door so that—unless she decided to take a swan dive off of my balcony—she couldn’t leave without me seeing her.
I’d been twirling my knife, the tip pricking my finger as it spins, whistling under my breath while I waited for her to come out and notice me.
See, by the time Haven was up again, I’d convinced myself that we really can try again. That’s the funny thing about obsession. It makes optimism look like insanity, and hope feels like a drug.
I heard her shuffle around the room a few minutes ago.
I wasn’t sure how long she would stay inside.
Would she get up, realize I sedated her again, then try to escape?
Knowing Haven, probably, and I’m prepared for that.
I’ve got my shoes on, ready to run if I have to, plus a plate of a freshly sliced mango by my hip.
Her grey eyes go wide when she sees me with my legs stretched out in front of me, crossed at the ankles, the knife in my hand. I palm the handle, then grab the plate.
I offer it up to Haven. “Mango?”
She recoils. Weird, because Haven has a fondness for fruit—since she doesn’t have to do anything other than eat them, no cooking required—and mangoes are up there as one of her favorites.
I lift a brow. “What?”
She looks at the knife, then the plate of mango slices I’m holding, then at me with as much distrust as she can muster.
A slow grin spreads across my face. “Haven,” I murmur, “if I wanted to hurt you, fruit would be a weird fucking place to start.”