Just One Touch (Slow Burn #5)(25)

She flushed. "I was never allowed to sleep on a bed or even one of the cots. Only on a pallet on the floor, and sometimes it was taken away if I was being punished."

Her eyes widened in horror and she clamped her mouth shut, turning away. It was just as well, because the expression on Isaac's face would have scared the hell out of her. Someday, and he didn't care how long it took, he was going to make every single one of the assholes who'd abused his angel pay dearly. It wouldn't be quick and it wouldn't be merciful. But it would be righteous.

Thank goodness her attention was drawn to the bed so she didn't see the blackness in Isaac's features. Her fingers ran reverently over the bedspread and then caressed the soft down pillows, so much longing in her eyes.

He couldn't stay a minute longer without losing his composure. He wanted to smash something. He wanted blood. The blood of every person responsible for Jenna's imprisonment.

"Why don't I leave you to get dressed for bed and turn in for the night. You're exhausted and you need your rest," he said gruffly.



       
         
       
        

At her questioning look, he pointed out the large T-shirt and pajama shorts Eliza had left for her on the end of the bed.

"I'll be next door if you need anything at all, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Good night, Isaac."

"Good night, sweetheart."

She looked so vulnerable standing there in the middle of the room that it took all of Isaac's strength to leave.

At the door, he turned back one last time. "Remember, I'm right next door. Nothing can hurt you here, okay? You need anything, you come get me."

She gave a small smile and nodded and then he left, closing the door behind him.





TEN

ISAAC lay quietly in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts consumed by the blue-eyed angel in the next room. Would she be able to sleep? And if she was, did nightmares plague her dreams?

What was it about her that called to a part of his heart and soul that had never been breached before? He could come up with plenty of reasonable explanations, like the fact that she'd saved his life. Or that he'd made it his life's work to protect the innocent. Or the fact that she was lost in a world of which she had little understanding or knowledge. Or the fact that she needed him.

But the simple truth was that he needed her every bit as much as she needed him, and he couldn't come up with a reason that made any sense to him.

He'd come across plenty of victimized women who'd desperately needed help, his protection, DSS's protection, but never had he been even remotely possessive of them. He'd done his job, and it never failed to enrage him and rile his protective instincts. It was who and what he was; he'd never been a man to stand idly by while a woman was in danger or being abused.

But his angel wasn't just any victim. She wasn't just any woman in trouble and in need of protecting. And he had no idea what to do with that realization. He couldn't even call it a realization, as if he'd just been struck by an epiphany as he lay there with no hope of sleeping. He'd known it from the moment she'd touched him, laid her hands on him, and he'd felt her in the very depths of his soul.

It wasn't sexual-wholly-because he'd be a damn liar if he didn't want her with every breath in his body. It was spiritual, and he felt like some hokey fool mooning over things like destiny and fate, but how could he call it anything else when from the moment she'd touched him he'd felt a connection that transcended any physical want or need?

And he was consumed with guilt for having sexual thoughts, lustful, needful thoughts, about a woman child whom he didn't even know if she was of an age for him to be having such thoughts about her. She had the innocence of a girl with the body of a desirable woman. Hell, it was obvious that no matter how many years she'd lived in this world, she'd spent the majority of them sheltered, sequestered from the real world. She was either enraptured with or terrified of things that he and others took for granted. 

She'd been conditioned.

He frowned. It appeared that at a very early age she'd been indoctrinated. Brainwashed. Taught an alternate reality that was twisted to fit the agenda of the people who'd kept her under lock and key, and they'd proven they would go to extreme measures to retrieve her. She was a valuable asset to them. Irreplaceable. He wondered when her powers had manifested themselves and as he pondered that question, he wondered if it was what had saved her from a far worse fate. Even the dumbest fucks would realize the enormity of what they possessed in Jenna.

He rolled over to retrieve his cell and punched in Eliza's number, knowing it was late and that Sterling likely wouldn't be pleased, but Eliza of all people would understand his suspicions. He needed to bounce some ideas off her.