A shiver moved through her, and she nervously licked her lips. “My father.”
Thought so. “He killed them.” A statement, not a question.
“He did . . . right in front of me. He even made me shoot my lion, One Day.”
One Day. Why were those words so—ah. He got it. The words made her think of her pet, of what she’d lost, of what she’d had to do.
Solo could feel the bones in his fingers curling, knew it was only a matter of time before the nails in his left hand dug into her pretty cheek and the nails in his right dug into the top of her hand. He withdrew both, flattening his palms beside her temples.
The action shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was. He surrounded her, was all that she could see.
“I’ve known people like your father,” he said. “If you stay at the circus, Jecis will eventually kill you.”
Twin spots of pink painted her cheekbones, and whether they were born of shame or anger, he wasn’t sure. “He wasn’t the one who beat me this time.”
“I know. Matas was, but your father has beaten you. Yes?”
She meshed her lips together, refusing to answer.
“Yes,” he answered for her. “You don’t deserve what they do to you, Vika. You need to leave them.”
“I will,” she said with the determination he’d come to expect from her. “And I told you, I plan to. I’ve been selling everything of value that I can, saving and hiding the cash as quickly as possible to buy a new identity and to be able to support myself. I have to be able to support myself. I don’t have any skills, and I cannot place myself under another man’s control.”
She wanted out, which he’d known, but she was wisely trying to achieve her goals, which he hadn’t known. Good girl. He was proud of her, and utterly relieved. “You nearly sliced off my balls when I grabbed you,” he reminded her. “I’d say you can protect yourself.”
“I also stabbed Matas,” she whispered, with just a hint of shame.
“I’m glad,” he replied, clearly startling her.
The suns began to rise, and the monsters began to back away. Perfect timing.
“You lack confidence, however, and I can remedy that.” He stood, held out his hand, and waved his fingers in her direction. This is dangerous. If you handle her, you won’t be able to mute your body’s reaction. Hunger will consume you. You’ll push her to do something she’s still not ready for. “I will teach you everything you need to know.”
Twenty
The night is almost gone, and the day is near. Therefore let us lay aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light.
—ROMANS 13:12
SOLO WAITED.
Vika resisted, clearly unsure.
“You have a kind heart, and you deserve to be cherished,” he said. “Until that happens . . .”
She frowned, eyeing him warily. “Violence isn’t always the answer. I’m too weak to defend myself against the muscle and brawn of a man. I tried, and this was the result.”
She’d gathered her courage once. She’d risked everything. She could do it again.
“You’re right. Violence isn’t always the answer. But sometimes violence is the answer. Don’t ever go looking for a fight, Vika, but when it comes to something like survival, don’t back down when one comes looking for you. Your opponent will simply keep coming back for more and things will get worse. I know you understand and accept that on some level, or you would have reacted to what I did to the monster.”
A moment passed. She nodded, whispered, “But if I try, I’ll keep losing.”
“Of course you will. Right now you’re fighting from a place of defeat. You have experienced the same results for so long, you no longer expect anything different.” He’d done the same thing. He’d taken one look at her and decided she could never want him. He’d acted that way, too. Had spoken that way.
The moment he’d decided to fight to have her, things had begun to change between them. They had talked, and they had laughed. They had grown closer. Soon, he would have his hands all over her.
“You have to force yourself to stand up again.” He kept his arm extended as he told her one of the stories his mother used to read to him. It was one of his favorites, about a sword-wielding giant who had caused an entire army to tremble with fear. Along had come a young boy who’d had