Dollars (Dollar #2)(9)

Shit, how does he do that?

“You need to go to the bathroom.”

My cheeks instantly scalded. I dropped my gaze, scrabbling for the sheet he’d just torn off me.

Leave. Then I can fix my problem on my own.

“If you think I’m going to let you stand up without support, you’re a f*cking idiot as well as a mute.” With fierceness and impatience, he placed one arm around my back, dislodging the softest pillows I’d had for years, and slid the other beneath my knees.

“Hold onto my neck.”

His command came a split second before he hoisted me from the bed and into his strong, terrifying arms.

I gasped—or as much as I could with padding and gauze stuffed around my mouth—and instinctually slung my arm over his shoulders. The drip cord swooped over his head, stinging my hand where the needle pierced my vein.

“Grab the IV and wheel it with us.” Elder pointed at the medication with his chin.

I did as I was told. I had no intention of letting the wheeled contraption scurry behind us with its only anchor in my flesh.

The moment I grabbed the cold steel, he moved.

The only sound was Elder’s shoes on the floor and the pound-pound of his heart hidden beneath his t-shirt and the impressive sizzling dragon I knew resided on his skin.

It took two seconds to cross the room and another two for him to rearrange me in his embrace to bend and open the door, revealing a small bathroom with a stand-up shower, shallow separate bath, and toilet with vanity.

The sight of porcelain made me shiver with anticipation.

Without saying a word, Elder very carefully placed me from horizontal to vertical. He let my weight shift ever so slowly back to my legs, never looking away from my face.

He made me self-conscious, frustrated, itchy—all manner of things—but not afraid. Having a male touch me made my heart grab its rape whistle and prepare to blow like it always did when Master—no, Alrik—came for me. However, no sexual interest was present in his gaze, merely assessment about my health.

His breathing came hot and deep as he took a step away but didn’t unlatch his hands from around my shoulders.

When I didn’t wobble or black out—even though lightheadedness made my head swim—he grunted, “Once again, I underestimated your strength.” Almost reluctantly, he let me go, moving another step. “Even after a long operation and even longer imprisonment, you can stand without support.”

The statement was more than just truth but an analogy for all I’d lived through.

“I’ll wait outside. Call me—” He smirked, catching himself. “Bang on the wall when you’re done, or I’ll just barge in when I hear the flush.” Pushing a finger in my face, he growled. “Don’t get any ideas of heading back to bed on your own. I’m not leaving.”

Oh, God, he was going to stand outside and wait? Listen? I spun around in mortification, trading lightheadedness for wooziness.

Backing through the door, Elder looked over my shoulder at the small mirror above the silver sink. Our eyes met in the reflection. His shadow lurked behind me, black and sinful with harsh secrets in his gaze, while I stood in sad (not cheery) yellow and random bandages.

We were worlds apart, yet for some reason, he’d not only invited me into his but stolen me to share it. I didn’t know why I deserved such an invitation, but I needed him to know just because I wasn’t ready to talk, I wasn’t ungrateful.

I’d kissed this man.

I’d felt something for this man.

He needed to know I didn’t take him for granted.

Blinking purposely in the mirror, I bowed my chin with utmost respect.

He sucked in a breath as he stepped from the bathroom, pulling the door closed. I barely heard his whisper as he said, “You’re welcome.”

I shuffled painfully to the toilet and prepared to do my business. His scent and lingering presence kept me grounded while my body found comfort once again. Once finished, I stood (wobbling on legs far too weak) to flush.

I tensed for an unwanted visitor. I needed a bit more time to get my thoughts in order and feel somewhat sane.

When he didn’t barge in, I used the extra seconds to wash my hands and scrub my face as best I could—avoiding my sore mouth. I couldn’t stop the apprehension that I still belonged to Alrik and any moment he would be back to hurt me.

Once I’d slicked back my wild, dirty hair, I turned with full intention of knocking on the wall for him to escort me back.

However, the spin upset the tiny balance I had, and I stumbled.

Falling like a paper building, my knees gave out, crumpling me from proud skyscraper to rubble on the floor.

Bones and muscles protested. A guttural groan escaped, sounding nothing like a girl and more like a severely mistreated dog.

Ouch.

The door smashed inward.

Elder stood vibrating with livid impatience. “I told you to f*cking bang on the wall.”

I was…I tried…

I hung my head.

He strode forward, towering over me.

Every instinct tensed for a kick, a wallop—something I was used to for disobeying. Instead, he sank to his haunches and tipped my chin up with his finger. “You’re mine now, Pimlico, and I’ll take much better care of you than he ever did, but if you continue to defy me, if you fight me at every turn, we’ll have a f*cking war on our hands, and I’ll win. Got it?”