Savage Cinderella Read Online Free Page B

times, pacing and breathing her way back
to the present moment and the task at hand.
    She hated to tie him up, memories of her own
bondage flashing like fresh slashes on old wounds. But she had no
choice. Her safety came first. Once his hands were securely tied
and she was assured that he posed no immediate threat, she talked
herself silently through the motions of removing the rest of the
wet clothing, tended his wounds, and bound his swollen foot. She
detached from her fear and panic as she’d learned to do as a
child.
    Brinn faded to the place inside herself where
nothing could reach her. She hummed her familiar tune—the one that
blocked out the ugliness of a world beyond her control. She beat
back the memories that crept to the surface like bony hands from a
grave—bones that formed the monster that still lived in her mind.
She wouldn’t let him have her. She wouldn’t let him take her ever
again.
     
    Brought back to the moment with a start,
Brinn gasped as blood oozed from the cut in her palm. The light of
day sprawled across the floor, scattering the shadows that sought
to swallow her. She dropped her weapon onto the table with a
clatter.
    Justin opened his eyes, tried to move, and
then groaned, obviously aware of his injuries and his bondage.
"What's going on? What's the matter?"
    A look of confusion and concern spread across
his features when he noticed her frightened expression. Then his
eyes focused on the blood dripping from her hand. “Are you all
right?”
    Brinn grabbed a tattered rag on the table and
quickly stanched the flow of blood with firm pressure over the
wound. Her eyes fixed on the bulge beneath the covers. Justin
followed her gaze, his cheeks flushing.
    He closed his eyes and dropped his head back.
"Oh, God, I have to pee."
    Brinn fumbled and found her words. "It didn't
look like that last night when I took off your clothes,” she
accused. “It looks like a giant toadstool." She eyed the bulge with
suspicion, causing his face to redden deeper. Her arms folded
across her middle, she asked, "Does it grow like that when you’re
planning to hurt someone with it?"
    Justin gaped at her, his jaw alternately
dropping and closing—fishlike—as words failed him. When he finally
closed his mouth and met her stare, a sympathetic expression
replaced his look of embarrassment.
    "No, of course not. I mean...when a guy first
wakes up in the morning and has to...relieve himself, it can
get...like this."
    Brinn bristled. “If you think you can relieve
yourself with me...”
    His eyes opened wider as he cut her off.
“No...that’s not what I meant.” He proceeded with his explanation,
his gaze focused on a frayed spot on the quilt that covered him.
"Once I...urinate, pee, whatever you call it, it’ll go away again."
His eyes found hers as he added softly, "I have never used it to
hurt anyone, and I never would."
    In a long moment of silent communication, his
velvety brown eyes held her gaze. Seeing only gentleness and
sincerity behind the look, Brinn released her fists to hang at her
sides. She opened them slowly and examined the cut beneath the rag.
She understood the urgent need to release her urine first thing in
the morning. She’d already taken care of her own needs before the
sun had even risen.
    She grabbed the knife from the table and
approached the old iron bed with purpose. Mustering her courage
with each step, she let her silent instincts guide her. Justin
flinched at the sight of the sharp blade. The flash of fear on his
face gave Brinn an unexpected spurt of satisfaction—followed
immediately by shame. She sliced through the tightly knotted
leather bonds and watched his hands fall to the mattress, raising a
cloud of dust.
    Quickly, she backed away to avoid contact
with the warm, hard body that occupied her bed. She loosened the
sheet around his foot, freeing the splinted appendage, and then
retreated to the far side of the table, nearer to the door. She
wanted as much space between them