The room tilted around me, cold tile biting at my knees. It wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t about her. It was the fucking image. The way she’d looked up at me, beautiful, willing,trusting,and all I could see behind my eyes was that girl in the alley. The last woman I’d seen on her knees in front of me, the one I’d put down before she could scream, the one that looked so much like Eden. I’d wound my hand into her hair and put my gun to her head while she knelt in front of me.
She was collateral, just a line on a report, but my brain didn’t care. The wires were crossed, and this blood didn’t wash off, no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands raw. I was falling apart. This wasn’t like me.
I sat back on my heels, chest tight, sweat cooling on my skin. I could still feel the way her lips had trembled against me not from fear, but fromwantingto make me feel good.Me.Like I hadn’t just spent half my life erasing people like her from the world.
I looked up into the mirror: lips pale, eyes rimmed in red. My eyes didn’t look dead anymore, they looked haunted. Maybe that was worse. This was me infecting something good with my rot. Just like always. I rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face, and stayed there with palms braced on the edge of the sink, head bowed until my pulse stopped trying to tear through my throat.
When I finally stepped back into the room, the light was dim. She was curled on the bed half-asleep but watching me with those soft, questioning eyes. She hadn’t heard a thing, or if she had, she didn’t act like it. She didn’t act like she knew the kind of monster that had just been puking his guts out, ten feet away.
I slipped in beside her hesitantly. She reached for me, and I let her. I didn’t deserve it, butshedid. She deserved whatever she wanted, and I needed her warmth more than I needed the truth right now. Even if the truth was this: I hadn’t justlether get close. This wasn’t a one-sided infatuation, Iwantedher to get close, and that meant I was already losing the war.
I let her nestle into my arms, but I couldn’t bring myself to hold her. She didn’t know what she was doing, offering me things I didn’t deserve. Mercy, trust, desire, and still, I could hear her voice like a whisper behind my ribs:I want to be the place you fall into.
Christ. Whowasshe? She made me feel like a man again, and I couldn’t decide if that was mercy or torture. I closed my eyes and let her name settle in my mouth, unspoken.
Eden was the closest thing to grace I’d ever get.
Chapter thirty-one
Eden
“All the Time in the World"
Thesoundoftheshower curtain closing woke me up that morning. He was an early riser every day, but I knew by the way he had a bag and case set up by the door that he was going somewhere. That meant another day of sitting here at this godforsaken motel by myself again. I was going to go crazy if I couldn’t get out of here. I got to my feet and made my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth at the sink. The mirror was shattered but had been cleaned up. The trash can was full of shards and glittering debris.
Halo didn’t notice I was in the bathroom, or if he did, he didn’t react. I crept over to the curtain and jerked it open, poking my head around it.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, jumping backwards so hard that his feet squeaked on the wet floor. His hands were quickly diving towards his crotch, trying to cover himself.
I laughed. “Some secret super soldier you are.”
“Jesus, Eden.”
“Also…” I gave an exaggerated glance down, raising my brows. “I’ve seen it.”
“Get in or get out,” he snarked, turning his back to me.
I reached in and smacked his bare ass before quickly moving out of reaching distance. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the other side of the shower. At the sound of my entry, he looked over his shoulder at me. He seemed surprised.
“What?” I said, wetting my hair. “You told me to get in.”
I grabbed the small bottle of cheap motel shampoo and held it up, turning my back to him. “You gonna wash my hair or just stand there, all menacing, for fun?”
He took the bottle from me and pulled me backwards until my head was fully under the shower’s spray. He ran his fingers through it, first clean, then with shampoo. His hands were slow and sure, working the suds from root to end. His thumbs traced the back of my neck as he rinsed me off, the water dragging soap down my back in little rivers. It wasn’t sexual… but it was.
“If this whole thing doesn’t work out, you could go into salon work,” I quipped.
He hesitated, and I felt it, the smallest pause in his fingers. I hoped he was laughing quietly to himself. I turned, standing with our chests so close together that water spilled on either side of our bodies. His hands were gliding across my wet flesh as he looked down at me, but I couldn’t read his gaze.
“So the tattoo on your back… what is it?”
What I had once thought might be the wings of a bird were now on full display. It was… something else.
“An angel.”
“No…”
“Yes. Biblically accurate. You know: eyes, wheels, fire.”
