Page 19 of Dark Goodbye

Ladria’s slim body is face down in the sink as water pours over her open wound. Though the level isn’t high enough to drown her, it’s obvious that she’s passed out as pink flows from her wrist into the sink below. At a first glance, I have no clue how much blood she’s lost.

Frantic, I race to her side, curling my arm around her waist as I yank her back, not even pausing long enough to turn the water back off. Before I can even take her out into the bedroom, I jostle her in my arms, my soul crying out as her head lolls to the side.

She can’t be dead. She just can’t be. I just got her back. All those years I searched for her, holding hope that she wasn’t truly dead… All for it to mean nothing. The main concern, however, is if she did this on purpose or just couldn’t handle the pain and passed out.

Looking down into the sink, I studied the pink splashes, noting that it isn’t really enough to drain her. The wound was deep, but not that deep. It had to be the latter. I honestly don’t know what I would do with myself if she actually tried to end her life.

Reaching out, I slide my fingers up the smooth column of her neck until I reach her carotid artery and hold them there until I feel her pulse. It’s faint, but not anywhere near the cusp of death. Relief flows through me, turning my fear into a wave of burning anger.

How fucking dare she play god with her life like this? Indignation burns through me as I cradle her in my arms and bring her into my bed chambers. Mogen stands there, her hand sliding up to cover her mouth as she sees Ladria’s condition.

“Bandages. Now,” I bark out, unwilling to even my tone as I lay my omega back on the bed.

Mogen is partially to blame for this, and she needs to understand just how dire these circumstances are. But I don’t lay nearly as much blame at her feet as I do Ladria. What was she thinking pulling off the bandages like that? I specifically fashioned them to not come off with just a simple tug. She had to work at it, probably clawed at them to pry them loose.

Though I lay a healthy amount of blame at Mogen’s feet, the self-recrimination eats me alive. If only I thought ahead better, planned better. I didn’t work this hard, jeopardizing my very livelihood, for her to be dead from such a stupid mistake. How in the hell am I going to keep working, torture Malus, or even leave the godsforsaken house if I can't trust that she’ll be safe?

Looking at Ladria’s chest, I watch the shallow rise and fall as my heart thumps in time. It’s painful, watching her like this, seeing the pain, the struggle in her delicate features. I hold her limp hand in my strong grasp as I use the sheet to dab at the wound, staunching as much blood as I can.

Since it’s no longer under flowing water, it’s not nearly as bad. The blood wells up as it works at forming a scab, but the wound is still too broad, just a bit too deep for it to do so. Malus really did a number on her. If only it was just thin lines. I could have easily sewn her up.

But no. The bastard took away strips of flesh, a technique I’ve only ever seen with intense scarification. No amount of sewing or stapling will keep her from living with this mark forever. Though I had fully planned on giving her the permanent tattoo once we were mated, she would have at least been numbed for it.

It would have been aesthetic swoops and graceful lines, not this butchering of a madman. Knowing Ladria, she would have hated it either way, but at least with my method, she wouldn’t be in such agony. She wouldn’t be so near death. The trauma would have only been in her mind and not her body.

Looking up, I snatch the bandages from Mogen and reach over to the nightstand to grab some ointment. Part of me is glad Ladria’s unconscious for this, but another part, a far more deviant one, wishes she was awake, that way she could feel the consequences of her actions.

As her eyelids flutter, I contemplate my next actions. Though I’ve never been one of those Alphas that needed kinky sex games to find satisfaction, a small fraction of my psyche cries out as I watch her lying there, so small, so helpless.

The need to control her, bend her to my will by any means possible beats at me, demanding satisfaction. I’ve seen Langston in action as he trained submissives for Hungry Desires. I kept meticulous notes as I monitored their health and wellbeing.

This is something I can certainly do. More than that, it’s something I’m slowly realizing I need to do. It’s what’s been missing in every interaction between Ladria and me, even before she left the first time.

Control.

It’s the missing ingredient that demands satisfaction. Reaching up, I keep my movements measured, controlled, as I tap my fingertips against the supple swell of her face. The very sound of the skin cracking against skin makes my cock swell until I’m nearly aching with need.

Again, I reach out, smacking just a touch harder this time, groaning as the scent of her arousal spiced the air. How many times have I dreamt about this moment? Holding myself back because of our ages? Now, there’s no one to stop us, no one to tell us it’s wrong.

It’s still too raw, however, too new for me to continue indulging with an audience. Turning, I motion for Mogen to leave, not wanting her to witness the depravity I’m allowing myself to slip into. But before she slips out the door, her knowing smile pierces me to my core.

No doubt, at her age, she’s seen nearly everything, but that still doesn’t mean I want her a part of this interaction. I’m still gathering my thoughts about me; I don’t need her to chime in with some advice that will surely make me overthink how she became so knowledgeable. It’s better I do this on my own, possibly reaching out to Langston if it’s truly needed.

But deep inside, I don’t think it will be. This role slides over me, coating me, covering me as if a second skin, a part of me that’s always been there but I never allowed to come to the surface. With another groan, I reach to palm my erection but pull back before actually touching myself.

Despite the growing need, I still need to keep my wits about me. Who knows what’s on my clothing, and the last thing I want to do is cause Ladria more harm by introducing an infection into her delicate body. Gathering the bandages and ointment to my side, I smack her face one last time.

Her eyes fly open, displacing the scent of arousal with a pungent, acrid stench of fear. No doubt, she’s reliving the moments where Malus touched her, marking her, carving into her. It’s enough to make me see red.

When her eyes finally focus and she truly sees me, the scent doesn’t fade. Instead, it somehow intensifies. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. I’m supposed to be the one that takes away all her fear, and yet, her body seems to reject me, as if it’s repelled by my very being.

“Please,” she whimpers, shrinking away from me. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please let me go.”

“You want to be free of me? Already?” Venom laces my tone as I lean in, staring into her eyes. “The man that saved you, ripped you from the clutches of a monster is here, now, actively trying to save your life and tend to you.”

For a moment, she looks away as unease flits through her expression. “I’m not ungrateful.” Her murmured words are so soft, barely audible.

Unable to resist touching her, I drag my fingertips along her chin and force her gaze back to mine. “I’m not looking for gratitude, you silly girl.”