Dollars (Dollar #2)(30)

What the hell was I doing that was so bad? Why did she cry for twenty-four hours straight when the only things I’d done were give her medical attention and a bedroom to call her own?

I clenched my hands in the salt, my heavy inhale breaking the water skin as my body became extra buoyant.

Something flickered to my right. Turning my head a little, careful not to roll too much, I looked up at the colossal beast of my floating home. Phantom poised on the sea like a swan ready to take flight. Its portals and twinkling lights so homely and welcoming.

I’d built a large boat, not because I needed to live in something monolithic, but because I’d hoped it wouldn’t just be me living on it. I’d sent invitations. None had come back.

The flicker came again.

Kicking my legs, I turned from horizontal to vertical, treading the tide. In the distance above, Pimlico drifted between rigging lights, blocking them as she passed before their brightness illuminated the sky once again.

Where the f*ck is she going?

I tracked her as she wandered along the deck. Moving toward the railing, she ran her fingers over the smooth mahogany, her face pensive as she peered into the darkness.

She wouldn’t see me down here, so I took the opportunity to study her. To assess the way she carried herself. The anger mixing with residual fear.

Perhaps, I was too hard on her. Expected too much, too soon. Our fight at dinner had been destructive at worst and juvenile at best. I’d said things I wished I could take back.

I was supposed to be the saviour here, not the aggressor.

Michaels had told me as such—warned me that incidents like this might never heal. The wounds on her body might fade…but her mind, that might never be fully complete.

My gaze danced down her figure.

At least she’d worn another too-big-for-her dress and not wandered around naked. It fluttered in the night breeze, a soft lavender style one of my assistants had picked out. I didn’t want to admit it, but even from here, the colour set off Pimlico’s dark hair, making her seem otherworldly.

Pushing off from the railing, she disappeared past my line of sight.

Something tugged inside me, but I ignored it. I’d already let Pimlico affect me more than I should. I f*cking refused to let her eat away at me. Not when she expected me to be a monster.

I was a monster.

Just one she’d never come across before.





THE COLD ALMOST made me turn back.

I hadn’t brought a cardigan (not that I’d probably wear one), and the chilliness reminded me too much of being constantly freezing in the white mansion.

However, something was infinite and majestically calming about the night sky. Instead of running, I commandeered a bollard where a massive rope—damp with sea and reeking of salt—coiled heavily, waiting to be used.

Perching on the top, I tugged the hated dress and wrapped it around my knees.

My ribs hurt to crunch up, but it was comforting sitting outside after two years locked in a house.

For a while, nothing moved. No stars. No birds. No life.

It was just me and the vast blackness both above and below.

I grew weary, lulled to relaxation by the sway of waves and whispers of night. The mania of the past few days finally calmed, and I was able to breathe without anger or confusion.

Other emotions that’d been hidden inside slowly crept into acknowledgement like woodland mice. Regret for the way I’d pushed Elder. Grief for the way I’d reacted—not because I’d wanted to but because my mind was so riddled with rot, I didn’t know any other way.

I needed to apologise to him and myself. Michaels had given me enough confidence to reach out with tentative fingers and take the first grasp of whatever Elder was offering without peeking beneath the kindness and searching for cruelty.

I need to live in the moment.

The future I cannot control.

I tipped my head back to the moon, allowing the silver light to recharge and forgive me. Forgive a woman who was still a girl even if she thought she was ancient. Forgive a slave who had no notion of pleasure or happiness in a man’s company.

My education in submission was not welcome here, and it hurt to have to shred up those lessons and be open to learning new things—especially when I didn’t know what things Elder would teach me.

I sighed again, expelling another windstorm of gathering questions, doing my best to stay calm.

A crack and small thud wrenched my eyes wide, waking me from my unsuccessful meditation.

I blinked as hands appeared on the railing followed by arms then dripping wet hair and dragon-tattooed torso.

Just like the first time I’d seen his skin art, it stole the very breath from my lungs. The inked creature snarled and snapped, coming alive in every contour and muscle shadow.

Elder didn’t look up, climbing the last rungs of a ladder I hadn’t noticed and stepping onto the deck with endless authority and confidence.

Raking his hands through his hair, he threw his head back and exhaled. His stomach rippled, his dragon hissing with smoke.

For a second, I sat in the darkness, watching. Wishing I could tear away his secrets and understand who this man was.

He had a temper. He had secrets.

But that doesn’t make him evil…does it?

A breeze whistled down the deck, unlocking my dress from around my legs, sending it fluttering like a purple flag.

Elder froze.