I woke up with a start. I was trying to come to grips with the weird-ass dreams that I had. Dreams where I was over nine feet tall with long hair, a wicked tattoo on my face, pointy ears and snow blowing out my hands. On top of that, I had a gorgeous woman next to me, almost as tall as me, curled hair, tattoos along her arms and fire surrounding her body.
Some weird-ass shit. I think my meds are making me more loony.
Padding to the door that connected my room to Bella’s, I knocked on it. I heard her quiet voice and I opened the door. She was sitting in one of the chairs, looking out the window. “I was wondering if you wanted something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, her voice flat. I looked at her and she was so tiny. Her hair hung limply in loose curls. Her bruises were so dark against her pale skin. In Alice’s expensive sweats, she was swimming in the clothes. I sat down across from her. “How did I get here?”
“The hotel? Carmen drove you,” I quipped. Bella shot me a look, clearly saying that I was a dumbass. “The situation? Only you can answer that. Why did you stay with him?”
“I had no one. I still have no one,” she shrugged. “He was the son of my father’s best friend. I needed that connection to my family and Jacob gave me that. And then, he hit me and it got worse and worse. I was stuck in that apartment, only used for beating and fucking.” Tears streaked down her face and she hastily wiped them away. Blinking toward me, she stared at me. “With Jake, I always felt fear. But, with you, I feel safe. Warm.”
“That’s kind of ironic. Everyone says that I’m freezing,” I snorted. “My hands that is. I guess I run colder than most.”
“I run hotter,” she chuckled. “The doctor took my temperature and it read as a hundred and three. I told her that was normal for me. I wasn’t sick and with blood work, it was determined that I was perfectly healthy, albeit underweight, littered with bruises and recovering from a miscarriage.” She tugged on the sleeves of her hoodie. “I should eat. I’m not hungry. I got used to not eating.”
“You need your strength back,” I said. “If we’re going to fight your husband, I don’t want you passing out in court.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” she said, raising her hand. With a deft flip of her wrist, a flame erupted from her palm. “I’m like you. You’re like me.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, staring at the fire ball in her hand. “And put that out … you could start a fire.”
Bella looked at me, arching a brow. “The window,” she replied. “That’s why I feel safe with you. You have something inside of you that’s not of this world. We both do.”