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Guilt gnaws at the frayed edges of my conscience. If I have to think about those creeps, I’ll tear off someone’s skin. All that bullshit I did to her in those first weeks after prison has weakened her mental state. Touching her now will only add me to a list of predatory bastards.
“I’m not about to take advantage of your vulnerability.”
“You’re helping me heal.” She clings to my arm, her grip both a plea for help and a lifeline.
I take a deep breath, my resolve hardening. What am I really afraid of? Losing control? Breaking her trust? I’m better than that. I need to be strong for my little ghost. “One step at a time. Let’s start with something simpler.”
She nods, her breath quickening. “Like what?”
“If you can get into the tub and let me bathe you, then we can talk about taking the next step,” I say.
She hesitates, her body stiffening. I peer at her through the corner of my eye, watching her determination morph into fear.
“Alright,” she finally says, her voice faltering. “Let’s have that bath.”
SIXTY-SIX
AMETHYST
I shift in the front seat of the cart, my throat tightening with dread. The tunnel walls rush past in a dizzying blur, and Xero’s presence beside me is a heavy, palpable force. His silence is unnerving, each passing second amplifying the tension wrapping around my throat like a noose.
Of all the things Xero could have asked for, why a bath?
How the hell is he going to react to my scars? It’s too late to back out. At best, any signs of skittishness will have him coddling me like I’m a broken toy. At worst, he’ll decide I’m too tainted by his father and relegate me into his sister’s care. Or move me into an apartment, so he won’t have to see me as a constant reminder of his father’s victory.
When we arrive at the hideout, he guides me to the changing area, where there’s a robe in the closet. It’s fluffy and long enough to cover the bulk of my lacerations. He places a kiss on my forehead and leaves for the bathroom, where I hear running water.
This is a test. If I can’t withstand a simple bath, then it proves I’m still that broken, deluded woman he pulled out of the bus.
I can’t let that happen.
He can’t know I’m really that sniveling little girl everyone used as a pawn. If I’m ever going to face Dolly, then I’ll have to push forward, get this over with so I can move on with my life.
With a glance over my shoulder to make sure he hasn’t left the bathroom, I strip off my exercise clothes. By now, all traces of that concussion are gone. My gaze drops to the scars crisscrossing my skin, and I force back a wave of humiliation and fury.
Helplessness overwhelms my psyche. Limbs stiffening, I feel the slice of Delta’s blade. Imaginary blood trickles down my skin, making me want to scream. I clench my teeth, forcing back the memories of Delta, of Dolly, of those leering scumbags.
One day, they’ll all pay.
One day, it will be their blood coating my skin.
Turning my gaze back to the closet, I put on the robe and sigh as the soft fabric caresses my skin. I imagine my body unmarked, save for the scars I’ve had since I was ten. He already accepted those blemishes when we thought they came from the car crash. Picturing myself as whole is the only way I can face Xero.
As I walk to the bathroom on trembling legs, my mind drifts to Mom and her mental gymnastics. Those cuts on my back and stomach were the work of a disturbed little girl, and not a car accident. I never asked myself how a child could get thrown out of a windshield and not get a single scar on her face.
The bathroom is lit by candles, which cast a soft, warm glow on the tiled walls. Xero sits at the edge of the bathtub, testing the water temperature with his hand. Steam rises from its surface, filling my nostrils with the scent of lavender.
Our gazes lock as he rises off the ledge, making my steps falter.
He’s breathtaking, bare-chested, with a tiny towel clinging precariously to his hips that barely conceals the outline of his cock.
My chest tightens, my skin prickles, and my pulse quickens. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The air between us thickens, charged with an electric intensity that makes my heart race, making it impossible to look away.
What the hell was I thinking? I’m not ready to have sex.
Swaying on my feet, I tighten my grip on the robe, trying to steady my breath. Steam swirls throughout the room, wrapping around my body like restraints. My pulse races as I feel his eyes on me, my skin tingling under his gaze. The air grows thick with tension, making it impossible to breathe.
Xero’s eyes soften. “Would you like some privacy?”
