Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Almost three days.”
My seventy-two hours were up. If the cavalry wasn’t close, that was it.
“The men who dragged you in here and threw you down were quite surprised your jaw’s not broken. Apparently, as I always suspected, you have a hard head.”
I smiled, and it hurt my split lip. “Don’t make me laugh. It could kill me.”
“Noted,” he replied gently.
It was so good just to lie there and look up at him.
“They’ve been feeding me rice and boiled chicken so I can focus enough to do the hacking. When I asked if I might have a portion for you, after the requisite ‘how did I know you were even still alive’ bit, they gave me some.”
“You’re saying I have food?”
He smiled at me. “Such that it is, yes.”
“Could I have that, please?” I said sarcastically.
“In a minute, yes. But first, are your ribs broken?”
“Really badly bruised, but I don’t think anything cracked. Not yet. Soon.”
“That’s very good news,” he whispered and bent and kissed my forehead. The warmth that spread through me was both welcome and comforting. “Not the soon part, the not-yet part.”
“I figured,” I said with a slow exhale.
“Let’s have some water, all right?”
Best idea ever.
Owen filled a tin cup and held it to my mouth, making sure I took only slow sips. “I don’t want you to throw it back up.”
That was smart.
After a few minutes, checking to make sure the water stayed in my stomach, he refilled it, and I had a second cup, downing it that time in two gulps, the hit of water absolutely life-giving.
“You look terrible,” he said solemnly, but he pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t smile.
“What the hell?” I growled at him. My entire body felt like hell, and he was laughing at me? “Have you lost it completely?”
“I’m just thinking of all the times I’ve commented on some bad outfit over the years, and this one is right there near the top.”
I was covered in blood, but this one was near the top? “I’m sorry, what have I worn that’s worse than this?”
He considered his answer, thinking a moment. “Remember that horrible turtleneck that made you look like a giant piece of caramel corn?”
I recalled it vividly. “I beg your pardon?”
He started laughing, and God, it was a good sound.
“I don’t think you’re remembering that right.”
“It was so awful,” Owen continued, cackling.
“I’ll have you know that was cashmere,” I said defensively.
He lost it then, and I knew it was half from the memory and half relief that I was still able to be indignant. My breathing was exciting to him at this point.
When Owen stopped howling, recovering enough for me to shake my head at him in chagrin, I told him I needed to get up.
“Why?”
“Gotta pee.”
“I can bring the bucket over here, and you can get to your knees,” he offered.
“Fuck no,” I grumbled. “Help me up.”
“Like you peeing in front of me will take away your gilded status in my eyes.”
“That’s not— If they’re watching, I don’t want them to see me broken.”
“Ridiculous,” he muttered, but helped me to my feet. “There are no cameras in this room.”
“That you know of.”
“I know,” he groused at me.
I was dizzy for a moment, and he took hold of my hips and kept me still until I got my balance back. When I went to move, he held tighter.
“Owen?”
“Once we’re out of here,” he said, his fingers slipping under the grungy hem of my T-shirt to touch my bare skin, “and you’re not hurt and I’m not hurt, we’re going to have a very serious talk.”
I nodded.
Owen lifted his chin. “Now kiss me, gently, because your lip is split, and then you can go piss in the bucket.”
I bent, put my hand on his cheek, and brushed his lips with mine. It was featherlight, but I felt it in my chest. My heart stopped for a second.
When the hell did this happen? In such a short time, I was comfortable kissing him.
“Okay.” Owen beamed at me, his green eyes glinting in the low light. “You may hobble over and relieve yourself.”
I did just that, noting the blood in my urine that was not a surprise in the least, before limping back, standing over Owen, who was sitting on the cot with the wafer-thin mattress.
“Sit down so you can eat this,” he said, holding a small bowl, not nearly as big as the ones I ate cereal out of at home, and a spoon.
I took a seat beside him and ate as slowly as I could. It was flavorless, but it was carbs and protein, so I was thankful. He had more water in the tin cup for me to wash it down with.
“Feel better?”
“Only slightly,” I replied truthfully.
“Well, you know, even beat up, you look good,” Owen said with a sigh, tenderly touching my face and chin.