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"Ah," I breathed, understanding why I had these strange memories of wet muscles. "And you cleaned me up."
Wraythe chuckled. "Yeah. You remember kissing my chest?"
"Only vaguely," I promised. "Someone was trying to get me hard, and he was strong, so I was kissing."
"I waswashingyou," Wraythe corrected. "You had cum and probably shit all over you, so I wasn't putting you in bed like that."
All I could do was shake my head. "You fucking washed my balls?"
"Aftercare," he said, but there was a hint of amusement in the tone. The bastard was picking on me.
"Thank you," I told him honestly. "I think getting my blood pumping made the alcohol hit harder than I expected. Please tell me I wasn't too bad to you?"
"Nah," he promised. "Although you told me that you loved me at least a dozen times. And you curled against me when I carried you to bed, but it was cute. You're a very sweet drunk, Ela. Which is actually surprising." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Wanna tell me about last night?"
I tried to shrug it off. "He wanted to be dominated. He said to treat him like my bitch, so I did."
"No." He waved that off. "I don't mean a play-by-play, because I was there. I saw it. I mean what you're thinking about it." As he moved the empty glass in his hand. "More water?"
"Please?" I asked, needing a moment to figure out my thoughts.
Because I would tell him. There was no doubt about that. I just didn't know what I'd say. I had no idea how to put this feeling into words that would make sense. Especially not to him. Maybe not even to myself.
"So?" Wraythe said, returning with another glass of clear, cool water.
I took a sip and then set it on the table beside the bed. "I think I liked that too much."
Wraythe didn't look surprised. "You've always had a cruel streak. Does this feel like the right outlet for it?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Wraythe, when I'm with Nari, I keep thinking about how much I want to hold her down. How I wish I was like you, able to overpower her, watch her melt into that sensation, andtakeher as my own. And sure, I'm stronger than her, but not in the same way."
"You want to hurt her?" he asked.
"No." Then I paused. "Maybe? I want to make her like it when I hurt her, which probably doesn't make any sense to you at all."
"It doesn't," he admitted. "And I won't let you treat her like that. Like you did Cayden."
I glanced over and met his eyes. "Good."
"But you have to talk to me," he insisted. "I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this because I don't get it myself, Ela. I don't know when you're slipping or when you're just, well, being you."
"What does that even mean?" I asked.
"Look." He turned his body toward me, shifting on the bed to do so. "Remember when you kicked that kid for making fun of me? When you cut down Ciella with nothing more than words? So many times, I've seen you lash out, but it's always with perfect control. In all honesty, I think that's more terrifying than if you snapped, but the truth is that it's there. This darkness, for lack of a better term. I just don't know what you're so pissed about."
"I'm not pissed," I insisted.
He simply lifted a brow, the expression all he needed to prove he didn't believe me.
"Ok, fine. I'm pissed that no matter how hard I try, I will always be second best at everything. Almost as strong as you. Almost as important as Nari. Almost as beautiful as Talin - "
"Nope," Wraythe said. "Everyone agrees that while both of you are gorgeous, you're in the lead on looks. I also think it's more than that, because you didn't have to throw in your lot with Nari."
Busted. "What do you think my life would've looked like if I hadn't ended up here in the temple?" I asked him. "I mean, Nari would've ended up as some farmer's wife. You would've been a craftsman of some kind. Probably a blacksmith or gas plumber. Talin would've been a peer of the society. Me? I would've been a criminal, Wraythe."
"You don't know that," he insisted.
"Oh, but I can make a good guess. I would've sold drugs or conned rich women out of their jewels. I probably could've run a gang of hoodlums, a gambling house, or such. When I was little, my mother used to go to these places, and I remember those men. The ones who dealt with betrayal with violence. Who broke fingers - or even arms. I always thought that would be effective, but I was never horrified."
