Armored Hearts (The Town of Pearl 7)

But something told her the rest of the house would be just as nice. She wondered what it looked like and even what the outside looked like. She eased up in bed, feeling everything ache, but she was determined to not take any more pain meds. Besides, her belly was growling so loudly she was surprised one of the men weren’t coming in with a plate of food.

As she got her feet over the side of the bed and cringed, she saw the clock. 5:30 a.m. Early but not unreasonable.

India went to stand up and felt the room spin and her body become combative. It didn’t want to move. It wanted to lie still and not feel pain.

“Come on, woman, you’re stronger than this shit.” She pushed herself and stood up.

She grabbed onto the bed for support and then the bedpost. The door seemed so far away. She wondered how many stairs led to downstairs and thought that going down on her ass might be a real option.

She took an unsteady breath and began to walk. Her body revolted but she ignored the pain and the pressure to her head and got to the door.

Opening it, she looked around and saw the long hallway and then a large winding staircase.

“Holy shit this place is huge,” she whispered.

Each step she took felt increasingly painful yet seemed to somewhat get better. That was until she reached the stairs.

She gripped

the top spindle tightly and gasped as an arm came around her waist and someone whispered behind her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Shocked, she lost her balance and those same strong hands pulled her away from the stairs and into his arms. Looking straight up a good foot and then some above her she saw Fenton.

Dark black hair, green eyes, and tattoos covering his arms below the tight black T-shirt he wore. She felt panicked. She was gasping, trying to catch her breath as he continued to hold her.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed. Not without one of us to help you. All we need is for you to fall down a flight of stairs and break your fucking neck,” he reprimanded and she didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m sorry.” She stumbled with her words. That feeling of hunger that had her pushing through the pain was now replaced with something entirely different.

Fear, uncertainty, and intimidation all came to mind.

“What are you doing?” he reprimanded more as he eyed her over. His hold was firm. He was a big man, with muscles and a capability in his eyes that indicated he was untamed. He definitely was the rudest of the bunch.

“I was hungry,” she said and damned her shaking voice.

“You should have stayed awake to eat earlier. Every night you fall asleep,” he snapped at her as he released her and stepped back as if she had a disease.

She saw the way he looked at her. The way he zeroed in on the bruising and marks against her skin. She was self-conscious about it despite the fact that she was a victim. But mostly she was ticked off at his attitude. The guy was being a dick.

“I was kind of in a bit of pain. But forget it. I’ll just wait until later to eat.” She started to walk toward her bedroom when he raised his voice.

“No. You’ll eat now. We don’t need you getting sick next,” he said it like she was so prissy and incapable of staying healthy or fending for herself. She felt like a child, an invalid, and that pissed her off.

He stepped in front of her.

“Hold onto my shoulders, and don’t fall,” he snapped.

She looked at his shoulders. Wide, hard, muscular and the black material appeared stretched to capacity. She gulped. There was no fucking way she was leaning on this asshole.

She grabbed the railing and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and took the first step.

He glanced over his shoulder and huffed in annoyance. Then Fenton turned around and crossed his arms in front of his chest and took each step backwards, watching her painstakingly take each step.

She was out of breath and nearly in tears halfway down when he cursed and then pulled her very ungentlemanlike into his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

She had the urge to beat on his chest and call him all sorts of names, but she felt dizzy, tired from walking down a few damn stairs. She was frustrated and it didn’t help that this Fenton character had a piss-poor attitude and definitely was unhappy about her being here. Well so was she. She would rather be in Chicago working, socializing with friends, or even by Aspen’s side as some Russian assholes caused a blood war. It would all be better than relying on this jerk to carry her to the kitchen.

He would surely flip if she said she lost her appetite and now felt nauseous.