“For now,” I rasp.
She sits up, cupping my face in both hands, eyes scanning me for injuries.
There’s blood on my hands. I pull back so I don’t stain her skin, but she doesn’t flinch.
“You saved them?” she asks softly.
“We savedsome,” I say. “Not all.” My voice cracks on the words. “There are always more.”
Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me down until my forehead rests against her shoulder. I let her hold me. A twenty-year veteran of violence, and I melt in the arms of a girl who makes flowers arrangements and crochets stuffed animals for sick kids.
If the club saw me now, they'd laugh. Or they’d envy me.
But I don’t care.
Her fingers move in gentle circles on my back. “You did good,” she murmurs. “You didenough.”
She says it like she means it. Like it’s the only truth that matters.
Maybe one day I’ll believe it, too.
The sun’s barely up when I step into the shower. The water runs red at my feet. Blood. Dirt. Guilt.
By the time I emerge, she’s waiting for me.
Clean clothes folded on the dresser. Coffee. A bagel, toasted. She's curled in the chair by the window, watching me limp toward her.
“Your leg,” she says, her brow furrowed.
“Old injury,” I grunt, brushing it off.
Her lips press into a line. “I’ve seen it. First time you undressed.” She rises, walks to me, kneels at my feet. “But not like this.”
Her fingers trail over the scar tissue on my thigh. Gentle. Lovingly even.
“Does it hurt now?” she whispers.
“Less when you touch it,” I admit.
Something soft blooms in her eyes, warm and fierce all at once.
She leans in and presses a kiss to the scar.
Pain and pleasure blur until I can’t tell them apart.
“Nya,” I groan, voice ragged. “You keep that up, I’ll take you again. Right here. On the floor.”
She lifts her eyes, lashes low and teasing. “Maybe I want that.”
I reach for her.
But she pulls back, smoothing her skirt like she hasn’t just lit me on fire.
“But I think you should sleep first,” she says gently. “Come here.”
“I don’t want to take you after I’ve been out, killing people all night.”
Her expression hardens, jaw set. “You think blood makes you dirty.”
