Vow to Protect (Vow To Protect 1)

“I don’t know you. You’re the last person I saw, and now I’m here, in your bed, hooked up to hospital equipment. What am I supposed to think?”

His eyes go wide. “You think I could have done this to you? You asked me why I’m angry; it’s because I found you like this. I’m angry for you, not at you.”

Is there a difference when it comes to men’s anger? It really doesn’t matter. I stretch out and throw back the covers to reveal my bare legs. My yellow and purple bruised bare legs. I can’t look at them, so I don’t. It’s not something I can help right now.

“What are you doing?” He reaches out but then stops so he doesn’t touch any of my numerous injuries.

“I’m assuming by how upset you are that Sal isn’t dead. He’s the only one, besides my father, who inflicts this much damage on my body. If he’s not dead, then I need to go home or else he’ll come searching for me, and the next time he gets his hands on me, things will be worse.”

He gestures at me in one sweep of his big hand. “Worse than this?”

I shrug and focus on shifting my weight to the edge of the bed. But I don’t even make it an inch before he’s gently curving his hands around my shoulders again and shoving me back into the nest of pillows.

“You can’t leave yet. You aren’t well, and if you try to stand right now, you’ll likely pass out and ruin the work my doctor has done to keep you alive. Besides...” He stiffens, his shoulders sinking back. “We made a deal, remember? I hold everyone to the deals they make with me. No exceptions.”

His tone is no longer gentle. He’s back to the man I met at the party. Command, control, and all the deep dominion men like him cultivate by breathing. I drag the smoky scent of him into my lungs and let it soothe the fear I’d start to let take over. But it’s a dream, a fantasy. We made a deal, and here I am, half-dead in his bed. Obviously, thinking someone else could save me had been a mistake.

“Even if Sal doesn’t come looking for me, my father will. How will you protect me from him? How can you protect Rose?” Oh, God, Rose. How am I such a shitty friend that I didn’t ask about her first?

He tilts his head, the hint of a grin returning. “I have a no-guns-in-the-bedroom rule, Angel, but I promise, I’m fully capable of keeping you safe. Besides, neither Sal nor your father is at your house. Rest now.”

The way he says it is so confident, so full of cockiness. I…still want to believe him, despite the bandages, the bruises, and the IV hanging over my head.

“You’re scared. I told you to rest, Angel. If you don’t make an effort, I’ll have the doctor sedate you.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t respond, keeping my eyes somewhere around his left shoulder.

I’m not surprised when he reaches out and guides my chin to look at him again. “You’re scared, but you don’t have to be. When I let you leave that night, I was stupid enough to think you’d be safe until I did the job you asked of me. That was my mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But when I say I can keep you safe, I need you to listen and believe me.”

God, I want to. It would be so easy to take his word for it and let him be my shield to the world. I want to believe him so badly that tears slide down my cheeks in frustration. “I don’t know if I can believe that because I don’t know what safe feels like.”

He slides closer on the bed until his legs brush against mine. Like he can’t resist touching me, and even though he must, he’ll be sure not to hurt me, even then. I look at him this time and watch his face as he speaks.

“We made a deal, and I have every intention of holding up my end of the bargain. Just as you will hold up yours. It’s as simple as that. You belong to me, in every way, and I promise you”—his voice takes on a deeper tone, a hint of threat under the bass—“no one will be able to get to you with me in the way.”

This time, I do believe him, and the relief makes me dizzy, causing my breathing to come out in short pants. I relax into the pillows for the first time since I woke up. He gently reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers brushing a patch of skin that isn’t discolored from bruises.