Free Crave the Darkness by Amanda Bonilla Page B

estate without an escort.”
    Escort, meaning me. “Fine.” No matter how much I wanted to hole myself up and tell the world to go to hell, I couldn’t let Raif down. “Are you going to tell me who’s threatening you so we don’t have to spend any more quality time with one another than necessary?”
    “Honestly,” Anya said, “I’d rather have bamboo slivers shoved under my fingernails than spend time with you. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to open up. About anything.”
    “It’s your neck,” I said with an exasperated sigh.
    “That’s right,” Anya replied, heading for the door. “It is. By the way, I think you’ve finally pushed your luck too far with Alexander. His Highness was not pleased that you skipped the evening meal.”
    Anya closed the door behind her and I stripped off my coat, slinging it across the settee in the corner of the room. I kicked off my boots, peeled my socks off, and shed my pants lightning fast. I ran to flip off the light switch, blacking out the room, and jumped into bed. If I pretended to be asleep, maybe I could avoid the royal ass-chewing I was no doubt in store for. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone else for the rest of my life. I just wanted to lie in bed and let the grief eat me alive.
    I closed my eyes and tried to appear serene, but the image of that inhumanly beautiful woman was burned in my memory. Maybe I could get rid of it if I washed my brain out with bleach, or scrubbed it clean with steel wool. Lobotomy, anyone? Sleep was my only sanctuary. What would I do if that tiny bit of peace turned on me as well?
    Panic overwhelmed me. The thought of returning to my life as it had been—detached, lonely, without compassion or companionship, without love and tenderness—made my head spin. Cold, clammy sweat broke out on my skin. Throat closing up, I felt the need to swallow ten times more than usual, and I launched myself out of the bed and beelined it for the bathroom. Palms slapped down on the expensive marble tile as I dove face-first over the toilet seat. My stomach clenched but I hadn’t eaten in so long, all I could manage was a succession of painful dry heaves that made every inch of my body ache.
    Warm hands brushed my neck and gently pulled my hair back. Shit, I hadn’t even thought of making sure the ends didn’t dip into the toilet.
Lovely
.
    “You certainly know how to take the wind out of a man’s sails,” Xander said close to my ear as he kneeled beside me. “I came in here prepared to fight and I find you hanging over the toilet. I feel cheated.”
    I folded my arms in front of me on the seat and rested my forehead on them. Drawing deep, steady breaths, I tried to calm my stomach from another round of cramping heaves.
Go away, Xander
, I thought, unable to speak.
Leave me alone and let me yak in peace
.
    “What happened to you this evening?” His voice was so soft, gentle.
Damn him.
“I have km> t sia feeling that rather than improve, you’ve just taken ten steps back.”
    Understatement of the century. What the hell did he expect me to say?
Yep, Xander, you hit the nail right on the head. Ty’s back in town, and he’s shacked up with a woman so breathtaking, if you saw her you’d never look at me again.
I don’t think so.
    I didn’t want to sit there all night face-first in the toilet, but I was afraid to move. What if the anxiety hit me again, and harder? What was the next step up from vomiting? Complete brain hemorrhage? “Not that I don’t appreciate you holding my hair and all”—I didn’t dare look up—“but I’m fine, Xander. You can go now.”
    “You’re not fine.” He was so close, I could feel his breath on my face.
    “Yes, I am.”
    Xander sighed. “Come on,” he said, pulling at my arms. “I’ll help you back to bed.”
    Once upright, Xander bent and swept an arm under my knees, gathering me up into his arms. “I’m not a child, Xander, I can walk on my own.” But, honestly, I didn’t