Kidnapped

Chapter 21 - Scars

The silence between us stretches, comfortable yet charged, and I glance down, my long dark hair cascading over my shoulders as I bite back a smile. The room feels less suffocating in this moment, a strange warmth replacing the usual weight of fear.

He watches me with a curious glint in his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting as he takes in my shy posture. “I’m sorry my brother is an idiot,” he says gently, the sincerity in his tone catching me off guard.

I glance up, but the intensity in his dark eyes, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the defined strength in his arms make my face flush. “It’s okay,” I mutter, letting my gaze fall. The truth is, hearing him speak with such rare remorse stirs something unfamiliar in me—an ache that feels too close to comfort.

“It’s really not,” he replies, his voice low, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.

I shift, tugging the blanket tighter around me as I cross my legs, pulling the fabric close for comfort. He tilts his head back, resting it against the wall but keeping his eyes on me, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. There’s something in that look—a guarded softness, as if he’s measuring the distance between us and deciding whether to close it.

“Are you cold?” I ask, motioning to his bare arms and the thin tank top that does little against the chill.

He nods, lifting his hands as if to show the evidence. “Can’t even feel my fingers,” he replies, humor lacing his tone. The realization that I’ve been hoarding the blanket hits me, and a wave of embarrassment colors my cheeks.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I stammer, moving to spread the blanket over him. I rise to my knees, leaning in to tuck it around his back. Before I can, his ice-cold hand grazes the bare skin at my waist where my shirt has ridden up just above my panties.

A sharp gasp escapes me, and an involuntary shriek breaks free as I fall forward into him, laughter bubbling up at the shock of the chill. His eyes light up with amusement, and a rare, genuine smile spreads across his face as his fingers splay over my waist, holding me in place.

“You’re hogging all the warmth,” he teases, his voice low but playful. His gaze flicks down briefly to where my shirt has hitched up, exposing the line of my hip. His smirk shifts, a hint of exasperated humor tugging at it. “You know, you’re really testing my self-control here.”

The heat rushes to my face at his remark, laughter dissolving into a breathless, bashful grin. The moment hangs between us, the room suddenly quiet save for the sound of our breathing. His hand remains at the small of my back, fingers warming against my skin, sending a subtle shiver down my spine. I’m suddenly aware of the storm outside, the rain tapping against the window like a subtle reminder of the world beyond this room.

“Sorry,” he whispers, the humor softening in his voice as his eyes meet mine, a glimmer of something tender breaking through his guarded demeanor.

“It’s… okay,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly, caught in a storm of nerves and something I can’t quite name. The intensity of his gaze holds me in place, making me wonder if he feels it too—this fragile trust trying to take root between us, dangerous yet magnetic.

I press my palms to his chest, intending to scoot back, but I notice a flicker of pain cross his face. Panic flares in my chest. “Did I hurt you?” I ask, my hands drawing back instinctively.

He shakes his head, a smile breaking through what looks like a moment of discomfort. “No, not you.”

My eyes search his, noticing the tension lurking behind his smile. “What happened?” I ask, the question spilling out before I can stop it, my voice soft but filled with concern.