Page 38 of Reins

Pain tightens his features. “Okay. You’re not a prisoner here, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

My lips twist to chew on the inside corner. “I know. That’s why I need to go in alone, just in case.”

He sits up quickly. “Absolutely not.”

This time it’s my turn to scowl. “If they see you, they’ll kill you.” I don’t want him to sacrifice anymore for something he didn’t do.

What happens to me doesn’t matter. I’m nobody.

With a groan he runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “I can get you a new ID. People lose theirs every day. That’s not a hard fix.”

“I won’t take long.” I’m firm on this. “I just have a couple of things that are…important to me. I only have a couple of pictures of Ava, I don’t want to lose them.” I let out a long breath. “Then I’ll go anywhere with you.”

His jaw tics as he nods. “I get it. Just remember you’re important to me. I made you a promise I intend to keep.”

The heat bubble in my torso bursts into a wave of fire boiling through me.

I don’t know what to say.

Unfolding myself from the chair, I clutch the toothbrush like a magical wand that will banish the shadows and give him a small raise of my hand before pivoting on my heel.

Everything is foreign, different from the hotel rooms I’ve slept in for horse events.

It isn’t until I finally slide under the covers and am saturated in his scent that I let out a long breath then relax.

I’m not sure why being surrounded by the smell of him makes me feel more comfortable. Is it because he actually chose to have me here? It’s such a strange feeling.

But for tonight, I’ll enjoy it.

“No!” Cade cries out from the living room.

It makes me sit up straight, my heart pounding in my ears.

Straining to listen, I don’t hear any sounds of footsteps or movement.

Then he lets out another grunt, mumbling something incoherent that’s muffled through the door.

Sliding out from under the thick comforter, I tiptoe across the cold floor and pause.

What if there is someone out there?

Pressing my fingers to the handle I turn it as slowly as possible to sneak a peek into the room.

Cade is spread across the short couch, one socked foot on the rug while the other is dangling over the end, with his arm draping his face.

He lets out a low chuff and his fingers twitch.

Oh shit, he’s talking in his sleep.

I shouldn’t bother him.

Yet I keep getting closer, my bare feet padding silently until I’m standing over him.

Fuck, I hope he doesn’t wake up. He’ll think I’m some sort of freak.

But I can’t stop looking at the white laced scars that work down his throat and rise up his arm. I’ve never seen him so exposed, only with a light tee that’s bunched above his bicep.

How much pain was he in?