Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

them.â€
    Jackson chose the shower for her. Already she was swaying with weariness, but she couldn’t comfortably sit in a bathtub. He was going to get very wet holding her up, but his comfort didn’t matter—only hers. He stripped off his shirt and shoes, leaving on his jeans for her modesty, before checking the water temperature. “Stavros doesn’t usual y play with whips?â€
    â€œI didn’t get that impression, but his brother obviously not only played, but real y enjoyed playing.â€
    â€œDo you think they run a human trafficking ring together?†Again he kept his voice casual, not wanting to trigger a panic attack. He was feeling his way with her, but her mind was like a minefield—one wrong step and she might retreat back into the sanctuary she’d found for herself. A place she could huddle deep and hold herself away from the brutal crimes committed against her.
    El e let the soft sound of the water and Jackson’s reassuring presence soothe her. She was safe. Back home in her beloved Sea Haven. Her ocean, with its pounding waves and wild, untamed seascape, was right outside. If she wanted to, she could go sit on the sand and watch the waves breaking against the rocks, in a timeless display of power and beauty. She took a breath and let it out.
    â€œOne minute at a time, baby,†Jackson said, turning her so he could gently remove the shirt where the blood had dried and stuck to her skin.
    He kept his eyes on her face, on the mass of red hair, focusing on the wounds rather than on her soft skin and the curves of her body. He wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible when he knew already she wasn’t. She was acutely aware of his hands touching her, of the washcloth sliding over her as she leaned against him for strength. She kept her head down, not wanting him to read her expression, although she never once pul ed her mind from his.
    Her nudity made her feel vulnerable, but the stark wounds on her body made her exposure far worse. Jackson knew she was thinking of how the whip marks and long lines of bruising had been put there and what Stavros had done to her afterward and hated him seeing the images burned into her mind.
    He kept his thoughts stil , holding only strength and warmth flowing from him to her, grateful for the ability to push rage deep beneath the glacier of ice in the pit of his soul where she couldn’t find it. There was only his need to protect her, to help her through her trauma.
    The water poured over both of them, El e resting her back against him while he washed her breasts and rib cage.
    â€œCan you lean against the wal , baby?†he asked her, gently moving her into position so he could wash the rest of her body, down her abdomen where his child should be nestling, lower to the wicked marks dissecting her feminine mound. He forced himself to keep his mind from straying toward vengeance, holding only care for her uppermost.
    El e brushed the top of his bent head with her palm. “I know this is difficult for you, Jackson. You don’t have to hide your reaction from me. I get angry and then want to cry a river. I don’t expect you to live through this with me and never let on how you feel.â€
    He glanced up at her from where he was kneeling on the tiles, the water pouring over him as he washed off the crusted blood on her thighs. “I don’t think you need me scaring the hel out of you with my inventive ways to torture and kil him.â€
    She might have laughed if it hadn’t been for his eyes. There were no traces of humor, only those dark, deadly pits where hel reigned. She shivered, her fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m grateful you care enough to want to torture and kil him. I’m glad you won’t.â€
    â€œI would,†he said gruffly. “Never fool yourself into believing I’m a nice man, honey. If given the chance, I wouldn’t kil him clean, let’s just say that. He’d suffer, and I know a lot of ways to make a human being suffer a very long time before welcoming death.â€
    He bent forward and pressed a kiss along the angry raw line, a soft brush of his lips moving against her skin. He transferred his gaze back to her thighs, his touch gentle, his hand trembling as he took care not to hurt while he continued washing, and she wanted to cry for both of them.
    â€œSome things are better for you not to