stop when you want to. I don’t want you hungry. Understand?” My voice was firm, and I looked at her, my gaze direct and serious. She nodded, looking down at her plate nervously. I softened my voice. “However much or little you want, Rabbit. But your choice, okay?” Her eyes met mine and she nodded. I hated the nervous look in her eyes and I desperately fought the need to stroke her cheek or hold her hand. Instead, I got up and went over to the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of red wine and a couple glasses. Sitting back down, I poured a glass and offered it to her. Then I poured myself one. I needed the alcohol.
We ate in silence for a few minutes when she suddenly looked down at her plate and I heard a muffled giggle.
I looked up at her. “Something funny about your dinner?”
She shook her head, letting out a snicker, her head still bowed.
I looked at my plate, mystified. What was I missing?
I looked up and met with her vivid blue eyes dancing with mirth.
“ Share. Please.”
“ I was just thinking …” another giggle burst forth, making my lips twitch with the desire to join her.
“ What?”
“ I hope I’m not a vegetarian …” her voice trailed off as she burst into laughter.
I had to join in her merriment. Lifting up my glass, I toasted her. “Here’s hoping you’re not an alcoholic either.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth but the amusement spilled over. Unable to help myself, I found myself roaring with laughter with her.
Rabbit had a great sense of humor.
I liked it.
Fuck. Of course I did.
Chapter Eight
Joshua
Rabbit moved yet again. We were sitting by the fire, neither of us talking much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Since our shared laughter at dinner, we had slipped back into a more companionable state. Using one of the gas lights, I was scanning some notes I had printed before the storm had hit. Rabbit was sitting across from me, closer to the fire, but seemed to be shifting a lot. I watched her for a few minutes and noticed the constant winces of pain as she moved.
“ Did you hurt yourself when you fell this afternoon?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She looked over, startled. “I’m not sure, but my side aches.”
I thought about it for a moment, remembering the huge patchwork of bruising she had on her side. What if she had caused further damage today? I took in a deep breath. “Your side was really bruised and swollen. I was worried about how bad it looked. Would you let me look at it? Just to make sure it’s okay?”
She hesitated and then nodded. She got up slowly and came over to me. I switched on a light, using precious power, but needing it to see clearly.
“ I’m just going to lift the shirt so I can see, okay?”
“ Okay.” The one word was spoken so faintly I could barely hear her.
I lifted the edge of the shirt and saw a large mass of bruising. Once again, I fought back the wave of fury I felt at seeing the evidence of her beating. The area was still swollen and red and the imprint of the top of a shoe, which was more vivid than ever, told me whoever had done this, had stomped on her. Hard. I felt my stomach lurch at the thought of what she had endured.
“ Is it okay if I touch you?”
All I got was a nod. Gingerly, I traced over the bruises. The area was warm but not overly hot. I couldn’t see any additional bruising but I noticed how she suddenly flinched and heard the small gasp as my fingers traced the shoe imprint. “Sorry,” I whispered, hating the thought of causing her additional pain. The desire to press my lips over the bruises and heal her with my touch hit me and I pulled back quickly before I followed through on my impulse. I dropped the shirt and hesitated before asking her if I could look at her leg as well. She nodded and I pulled back the sweats she was wearing, checking the dark angry bruises there, as well. “I think they’re just tender. You probably hit them when you fell, so you are feeling it more
We ate in silence for a few minutes when she suddenly looked down at her plate and I heard a muffled giggle.
I looked up at her. “Something funny about your dinner?”
She shook her head, letting out a snicker, her head still bowed.
I looked at my plate, mystified. What was I missing?
I looked up and met with her vivid blue eyes dancing with mirth.
“ Share. Please.”
“ I was just thinking …” another giggle burst forth, making my lips twitch with the desire to join her.
“ What?”
“ I hope I’m not a vegetarian …” her voice trailed off as she burst into laughter.
I had to join in her merriment. Lifting up my glass, I toasted her. “Here’s hoping you’re not an alcoholic either.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth but the amusement spilled over. Unable to help myself, I found myself roaring with laughter with her.
Rabbit had a great sense of humor.
I liked it.
Fuck. Of course I did.
Chapter Eight
Joshua
Rabbit moved yet again. We were sitting by the fire, neither of us talking much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Since our shared laughter at dinner, we had slipped back into a more companionable state. Using one of the gas lights, I was scanning some notes I had printed before the storm had hit. Rabbit was sitting across from me, closer to the fire, but seemed to be shifting a lot. I watched her for a few minutes and noticed the constant winces of pain as she moved.
“ Did you hurt yourself when you fell this afternoon?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She looked over, startled. “I’m not sure, but my side aches.”
I thought about it for a moment, remembering the huge patchwork of bruising she had on her side. What if she had caused further damage today? I took in a deep breath. “Your side was really bruised and swollen. I was worried about how bad it looked. Would you let me look at it? Just to make sure it’s okay?”
She hesitated and then nodded. She got up slowly and came over to me. I switched on a light, using precious power, but needing it to see clearly.
“ I’m just going to lift the shirt so I can see, okay?”
“ Okay.” The one word was spoken so faintly I could barely hear her.
I lifted the edge of the shirt and saw a large mass of bruising. Once again, I fought back the wave of fury I felt at seeing the evidence of her beating. The area was still swollen and red and the imprint of the top of a shoe, which was more vivid than ever, told me whoever had done this, had stomped on her. Hard. I felt my stomach lurch at the thought of what she had endured.
“ Is it okay if I touch you?”
All I got was a nod. Gingerly, I traced over the bruises. The area was warm but not overly hot. I couldn’t see any additional bruising but I noticed how she suddenly flinched and heard the small gasp as my fingers traced the shoe imprint. “Sorry,” I whispered, hating the thought of causing her additional pain. The desire to press my lips over the bruises and heal her with my touch hit me and I pulled back quickly before I followed through on my impulse. I dropped the shirt and hesitated before asking her if I could look at her leg as well. She nodded and I pulled back the sweats she was wearing, checking the dark angry bruises there, as well. “I think they’re just tender. You probably hit them when you fell, so you are feeling it more
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