5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

L ash

I’m almost thirty years old, so I never expected to find a part of my personality I’ve never encountered before. But here it is, this fierce protectiveness that feels as though it’s pumping through my veins, pounding through my very DNA.

“Sure. Hi, Zoya. Uh… want some tea?”

Why didn’t I think of offering her tea? And food! She’s so thin I imagine that asshole Max hasn’t been feeding her properly. I feel like a shit that Fang thought of it before I did.

Her answer to Fang’s question is to shake her head, but I don’t believe her.

“Yeah, bro, why don’t you get her some tea?”

He glances heavenward, obviously thankful to have a reason to escape the awkward situation, and then leaves us alone.

“So while you’re sipping tea, I’ll arrange a place for you to stay tonight. How about that?”

Zoya peeks at me, her chin still tucked behind her raised knees, and whispers, “No. Please? Can I… can I stay with you?”

“I don’t have a roommate. I mean, it would just be you and me. That wouldn’t be comfortable for you, right?”

“You are safe. A safe male. I would like stay vith you. Please?”

This is wrong. A bad idea. Misguided in a thousand ways and guaranteed to blow up in my face. A human woman with an angry asshole looking for her? If Max found out, it wouldn’t just put her in his sights. He would want to kill me and everyone else in the Zone.

“Please. I trust you.”

Shit! Why did she have to say that? It was as though she reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart. I never knew I had a savior complex before, but there’s something about this woman that makes me want to risk everything I hold dear to keep her safe.

“Just for tonight, Zoya.”

She sits up, looks straight into my eyes, and gives me a glimpse of how beautiful she is when she flashes me the smallest smile. Wow! Blue eyes, perfect teeth, plump cheeks despite her emaciated state, and a pointy chin that makes me think about cupping it as I kiss her.

Kiss her? The female who raised me here in the Zone would tell me my mind is “going in the wrong direction.” But damn, I can’t get the picture of kissing pretty little Zoya out of my mind.

Fang has good instincts. He bypasses her to deliver the steaming chamomile tea to me, and then I rise to hand it to her. Before she takes it from me, she softly grips my wrist, looks into my eyes, and whispers, “Thank you, Lash. You are saving me.”

My heart thuds in my chest and keeps fluttering to the point I wonder if I need a defibrillator as I watch her drink her tea. After she sets her cup on the side table, I walk her upstairs to my apartment. All the Wolven Warriors live here, above the first-floor offices and den.

My place has one bedroom. It’s almost a hundred years old and is nothing fancy. Shabby would be a good word to describe it, although it’s clean.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. My bedroom has a lock, so you don’t have to worry.” I don’t finish the sentence with “about me,” although we both know that’s what I meant.

“No.” For the first time since I met her, her voice is forceful. “I sleep on couch. That’s fair.”

I weigh which is more important, her physical comfort or her belief that she can call the shots about her own body. After a brief internal argument, I give up, allowing her to see that she has power in this relationship.

I offer her a shower, which she declines, and some food, which she also declines. She must be starving, so despite her protests, I make her a sandwich and deliver it to her where she’s taken up residence on the couch.

At this, she doesn’t argue. She wolfs it down so fast that I hurry to make her another.

After handing her the second sandwich, a blanket, and one of my t-shirts to sleep in, I put a towel and washcloth out for her in my tiny bathroom. When I enter my bedroom, I’m wracked with guilt that I didn’t convince her to take the bed.

Only moments after I close the door, a dozen thoughts hit me. I return to the main room only to see her stark naked except for her panties as she pulls my t-shirt over her head.

I freeze in place, my breath catching in my throat, my heartbeat quickening as I take in her perfect form. Her body is too thin, yet still retains enough curves to be completely feminine.

She turns her head toward me and sees me watching her, our eyes locking for a brief moment before she yelps and looks away, a blush staining her cheeks. I swallow hard and whirl around to return to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

“Sorry!” I call through the door. “I just wanted to…” It will probably freak her out more if I tell her I wanted to make sure she didn’t have a cell phone. That’s one way Max could track her. He could find her within minutes. I also thought she should take pictures of her bruises and her puffy lips. We might need that evidence when we go to the authorities.

As I wait for my thoughts to calm down and process what just happened, I can’t help but replay the image of her undressing accompanied by my memory of the soft rustle of fabric as she wriggled into my shirt.

Damn! I brought her here to keep her safe. Peeping on her, terrifying her with my attraction wasn’t what either of us signed up for. It’s just that I urgently wanted to make sure she couldn’t be tracked here, that I could protect her.

Part of me wants to retreat to my bed, climb under the covers, and take care of the raging hard-on I have from that swift glimpse of Zoya’s pale, naked skin. But she knows I got a glimpse of her and her panic is probably ramping. I have to find a way to make this right.

“Zoya? Are you dressed?” Four simple words. How hard would it have been to ask that a minute ago?

“Yes.”

“Can I come out of my room? I just…”

“Yes.”

She’s under the blanket I gave her. It’s pulled up to her chin. Shit. Does she have to be so beautiful?

“I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to… There was something urgent.”

She nods. Maybe she hears the sincerity of my apology.

“I should have asked downstairs. Do you have a phone? Because Max could easily trace you.”

“No. No phone. He said I didn’t need one.”

“Yeah. Of course. Another way to control you.”

“Yes.”

I wish she’d talk more. I love the cadence of her accent, the melody and flow of her words.

“And I was thinking we should take pictures of your bruises as soon as possible. Document the abuse. I’m no lawyer, but I imagine it will help your case with the immigration authorities.”

“Now?”

“Actually, yeah. It seems like every minute they fade makes them look less… abusive. I know it must seem intrusive. But I want to make your case strong. I don’t want you to be in trouble because none of this is your fault.”

There’s that squeeze and pang in my chest again. It’s the physical embodiment of my need to care for this woman I barely met.

“Okay. You take pictures.”

When she stands, I’m happy to see that, just as I thought, my tee covers her almost to her knees.

After grabbing my phone, I step close enough to get pictures of her face, including close-ups of the puffy lip and the bruise on her cheekbone that has bloomed bluer in the short time I’ve known her.

“Sorry again about intruding on you earlier, Zoya, and sorry to have to take these pictures, but…”

What. The. Fuck?

She’s stepped away and tears her tee off. Was I so busy perving on her that I didn’t notice this when I saw her naked a few moments ago ? I’m a special kind of asshole.

“Fuck, Zoya.” I grab the blanket off the couch and tuck it around her with brisk efficiency. “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.”

Shit, can’t I do anything right? Did I just call this poor, traumatized woman babe?

She took off her t-shirt, revealing bruises that cover her body—bruises I hadn’t known existed.

“Look. I’m going back to my room. You get dressed. I’ll have one of the human women come by tomorrow and take pictures of your… I shouldn’t be doing this, and Goddess knows, you don’t want your naked pictures on my phone.”

“Vhy? Vould you do bad things with them?”

Do bad things? Like stroke myself while salivating over them? No! I wouldn’t do that. Would I?

“No. It’s just… not right.”

She pauses for so long it becomes awkward, although I know she’s thinking.

“Lash, you make me feel safe. I… haven’t felt that way in…”

Another long pause tells me she’s deep in thought, drifting backward in time, searching for the last moment she felt safe. The length of her silence is heartbreaking, telling me just how long it’s been.

“I haven’t felt that way in so long that I vant to… honor it. I don’t vant anyone to take those pictures but you.”

How is it possible to have a punch of lust so strong it sizzles through every inch of my body even while I’m filled with the imperative to take care of her? Those feelings are roiling through my body, clashing and merging and overwhelming me.

“We’ve got the pics of your face, Zoya. That may be enough. I’m glad you feel safe with me, and I refuse to mess that up.”

I turn, take two steps, then complete the circle to spear her with my gaze. “And I’m sorry I barged in on you a few moments ago. I should have given fair warning. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. Get a good night’s sleep.”