The fury on his face kept me quiet as I studied him, not daring to tempt him to violence as he worked. I winced as he pulled a particularly large shard free, making him turn that stunning multicolored stare up to me as his fury melted away in concern. He ran his free hand over the top of my foot, a gesture that would have been sweet had it not been for the mix of blood on his skin. Mine and whoever he'd hurt.
"Whose blood is that?" I asked, studying the motion. He glanced down, shrugging as if the answer was inconsequential. As if he hurt people every day and there was nothing that could be done for it.
"One of my men disappointed me, so penance was due. I told you, being a murderer barely scratches the surface of what I am, mi princesa," he murmured softly, setting the foot to the side as he started on the other one.
"And the gunshot?" I asked, studying him carefully.
"I shot him in the leg," he answered. The breath caught in my lungs. The reality of his violence and the fact that he could speak about it so calmly was an entire world away from the life I lived.
"You shot him in the leg," I repeated as the woman returned to the bedroom with a broom and started to furiously sweep up the glass the best she could. Another man wheeled in a mop bucket after her, working to clean up the blood behind her. Still, Rafael worked to get the glass out of my feet without ever motioning for his own. "And you're okay with that?" I asked him.
He turned his stare back up to me again. "I know who I am, Isa. I kept it from you to give you a chance to fall in love with me without the violence hanging over your conscience. That phase in our relationship is over now, and I won't keep secrets from you any longer."
"What if I want you to keep secrets?" I asked. I didn't want to know the details of Rafael's life of crime. Not when I wanted to go back home to my daily life and forget any of this had ever happened.
He finished pulling glass from my feet, setting aside the tweezers and grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth. He wiped them down while I winced. "If you do not want to be injured, then don't try foolish escapes like that again," he said, his voice going cold once again.
When he was satisfied that my wounds were clean, he wrapped my feet in the same bandages that covered my hands and knees. If I'd had any doubt who had cared for my injuries while I'd been unconscious, that was all the proof I needed.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, letting him turn my body to take my hands in his. My body vibrated where he touched me, that electrical current of attraction that always ran between us pulsing under my skin. As if I really couldn't deny him anything, despite my best intentions.
"You're supposed to accept that this is your new life," he said, unwinding the ruined bandages and setting them in the dust pan the woman held up for him. He inspected my hands carefully, checking for glass that might have gotten under the bandage. When he found none, he rewrapped them gently.
"I want my old life," I whispered.
His nostrils flared in his anger. "Get out," he snapped to the woman and the man who were finishing up cleaning. I whimpered, following them with my eyes as the woman shook her head sadly. "Do you think it pleases me to know that you miss your mundane life? Look around you and see all that I have to offer you, Princesa."
"I want my family," I said. "All the money in the world can't replace them, and you forced this on me, Rafe. I want to choose where my life takes me, not have a man I hardly know decide for me." His hand caught my chin, the blood covering him feeling warm on my skin as he turned my face to his and crashed his lips onto mine. He devoured my mouth, building that desire inside me with just the furious strokes of his tongue against mine even though I wanted to bite his off. So I bit down in warning, hating the chuckle he released as he pulled back and tugged his tongue from my mouth.
"I am your family now. If you behave, perhaps there is a way that you can have a relationship with the family you left behind. But that cannot happen if I can't trust you."
I gasped, staring up at him with ever growing hatred. To use my family to control me was cruel, even for him.
He swung his feet up onto my lap, the shards of glass protruding from his flesh as he handed me the tweezers. "You've already bled me once today, little demon."
I glared at him, torn between wanting to shove the shards of glass further into his foot and wanting to help him in the same way he had me. He could have left me to deal with it on my own and let me bleed. Instead he'd shown me a moment of kindness that I might not have deserved considering I'd tried to bash his skull in.
I pulled the first shard free, dropping it into his open palm so he could place it with the others on the nightstand. "My mother was fond of those lanterns," he said, drawing my attention up to his face. "I don't remember much of her, but I remember that."
Hearing him say that made me instantly feel guilty. "I'm sorry," I said, the apology feeling genuine despite the circumstances. I knew what it was to miss a loved one, to treasure the things
