Made him do something so terrible that it scarred his soul and stained his hands with innocent blood.
And that was the reason he had to be up here, alone. Controlling his killer instinct. Can’t let it happen again. And certainly not to his mate.
This was his punishment, his cross to bear. And he was never going to let it touch her.
Chapter Four
Present time …
Heaviness pressed down on Dutchy as she slowly gained consciousness from her dreamless sleep. An invisible weight pushed down on top of her. All over her, plastering her to the bed, making it hard to even open her eyelids.
She lay there, for how long she wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. It was probably past noon. If her bladder hadn’t protested so strongly, she wouldn’t have moved at all.
Hauling her body out of bed, she trudged to the bathroom, not bothering to flip on any switches in her bedroom darkened by the blackout curtains that remained drawn. The light from the window in the bathroom made her recoil for a second before her eyes adjusted.
After finishing up in the bathroom, she grabbed the sweatpants hanging from the hook on the back of the door. A perfunctory sniff told her it was good enough and she put it on, as well as the matching sweatshirt.
Dragging herself out of the bedroom, she headed to the kitchen. Water. There was a half-empty glass still sitting on the counter, so she filled it up from the tap, then downed it before adding it to the growing pile of dishes in the sink.
She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get the tangles out with not much luck. Shrugging, she padded out into the living room, then stopped. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Something didn’t quite smell right.
Her fox wrinkled its nose and scratched at her, pointing her to the piles of takeout boxes on the coffee table. Oh crap. That was from two—no three nights ago. With a sigh, she marched back to the kitchen and grabbed a garbage bag, then headed into the living room to toss the boxes of moldy Chinese food into the bag.
And seeing as she was already on a cleaning kick, she tossed out the other junk on her coffee table, fluffed up the cushions, straightened out the pillows, and put some books back on the shelves.
Hmmm. When was the last time she cleaned up? Too long, based on the layer of dust on the furniture surfaces. A plant in the corner had died a while ago, so she chucked that into the garbage bag too. Then she grabbed the vacuum cleaner from the closet.
By the time she finished cleaning and drew back the curtains to let some sun in, the heaviness pressing on her had lightened.
Huh.
Maybe today was going to be different. Maybe today was the day she could pick herself up. Maybe today was the day she could feel normal again.
She plunked down on the couch, but quickly got up when she felt something poke her butt. Whirling around, she reached in between the cushions and pulled out the offending item but quickly dropped it as if she had picked up a hot iron.
The heaviness pressed down on her again, and her fox hung its head, giving out a pathetic moan.
She didn’t even realize her lower lip began to tremble. Or that her hand was shaking.
Stop it!
It’s nothing.
It can’t hurt you.
It was only a sketchbook after all.
Gingerly, she bent down to pick it up. The problem wasn’t the sketchbook itself. No, what made her recoil was what was inside.
The heaviness pressed down on her, threatening to hold her down until she couldn’t move. Her lungs squeezed the air from her body, but she clung to the sketchbook tighter.
You can do this. Fight it.
Her body relaxed. Nothing happened. It was just a sketchbook. Hope flittered inside her. Her fox, on the other hand, remained silent.
Look, she told herself. See what you’ve done. How far you’ve come. Her living room was far from perfect, but it was better. An improvement.
Maybe today was the day.
No, not maybe.
It would be today.
Before she lost all nerve, she tucked the sketchpad under her arm, as well as a box of colored pencils on the console table, and strode out of the living room, making a beeline for the front hall. She grabbed her keys and opened the front door.
It was a beautiful, crisp autumn day. When was the last time she had been out? She took a deep breath.