Savior (BWWM)

Eleven

BLAKE'S POV

I groaned as my eyes fluttered open, a wave of pain pulsing down my spine and through my limbs. My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it. Everything hurt.

I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light above me, then looked around. The room was massive, bigger than my entire apartment. The bed was impossibly soft, the sheets smooth like silk.

I tried to sit up, but my body wasn't having it. Pain shot through my side, forcing me back down. I reached up and raked a hand through my curls, now tangled and matted to my scalp.

I needed a hot shower. A stiff drink. Maybe both.

The machines next to me beeped over and over, taunting me with their rhythm. I groaned louder.

I need quiet. I need answers.

"What the hell happened to me?" I mumbled, eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. "And where the hell am I?"

The last thing I remembered was being grabbed, hands on my throat, a knife to my neck. Then darkness.

"You were drugged," a calm voice said from the side.

I turned sharply, well, as sharply as I could. A woman in a white coat stepped out from a side door I hadn't noticed. She was tall, striking, with porcelain skin, long black hair, and icy features carved like marble. Beautiful in that intimidating, slightly evil way.

"I'm Dr. Krue," she said, her eyes dragging slowly down my body. "Roman brought you here. You were in bad shape."

The sound of his name made my chest flutter. I didn't expect him to... bring me somewhere safe. To care. But he did. And now here I was.

Krue's eyes narrowed as she watched me smile to myself.

"You were close to death," she said flatly, flipping open a notepad. "Whoever injected you wanted you gone. It wasn't a typical sedative, it was potent, experimental. Took time to flush it from your system."

She walked closer, pausing by the monitor beside me. "But I know what I'm doing. You're lucky Roman brought you here when he did."

She glanced at me again, this time sharper. "You do know what he does for a living, right?"

I nodded, even if part of me still wasn't sure what everything he did entailed. "I do. It doesn't bother me."

That was only half-true. I didn't fully know how I felt. But I wasn't about to admit that.

Krue raised a perfectly shaped brow. "That's... surprising." She took a beat. "Girls like you usually don't talk to men like him."

My stomach twisted.

"Well," she continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "I'm shocked he'd go for someone like you."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "A white man. With power. Money. Control. And he picks you? A black stripper?" She tilted her head. "You know how that looks, don't you? It damages his image. He's running an empire, sweetheart. Not a circus."

My blood boiled.

How did she even know what I did for a living? Was she stalking me or just assuming from the outfit? And the blunt racism.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I snapped, the words out before I could stop them.

Krue didn't flinch. "Sweetheart," she said with a mocking smile, "I'm the one who saved your life. You'd be dead if not for me, so maybe you should think twice before talking like that."