I don’t have them—ever. Only winning counts, and that’s usually by force. Rose is different, and I’m not equipped to deal with that.
She is innocent not because she is weak but because the world hasn’t broken her yet. I am the man to break her; it’s inevitable, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
I want her like any man wants a woman, but I want it to be on her terms, not mine. To make it special, to seduce for sure but not in the way my father means. To seduce her world into stepping into mine. Turn her away from God and into the arms of the devil for my own ends.
I want her as a storm requires stillness, not to break it but to savor the experience.
I sigh as the flames take hold and dance like the devil in hell; the light reminding me that I live comfortably in the fire, in the darkness even, but now I fear it burning me.
I dragmyself from the fire back into the gloom of the room. I’m alone with myself, and that’s a scary place to be. Madness creeps in when I’m otherwise unoccupied, and my dreams spiral into nightmares pretty damn quickly when I allow my demons to fight.
I turn away to the kitchen, desperate for the distraction, and my heart sinks at the basic setup we have fallen into. All we have is a working butler sink and a gas ring but notmuch else. It’s so fucking freezing in here, a fridge is an unnecessary luxury. I notice a ceramic jug with some milk and a basket of pastries and preserves along with tea bags and a small jar of coffee.
With a sigh, I fill the kettle that stands on the gas ring. No plug-in kettle here, a coffee machine only in the realm of possibilities for the future.
Somehow, I rustle up a tray of coffee and pastries and with a sigh head back to the fire, the one place that feels like home.
It’s not long before the door opens and my gaze finds Rose on autopilot. My heart swells because, fuck me, she is a goddess, a vision in fact as she stands hesitantly in the doorway shivering in a thin cotton robe that she picked up at the store. Her hair is damp and, as usual, her face is devoid of makeup, and she is clutching her shopping bags as if she is homeless and has nowhere to go.
“Come.” I jerk my head toward the fire. “Take a seat, and the heat will dry your hair and warm you up.”
I point to the coffee.
“It’s adequate, not the best, I’m afraid.”
Her nervous smile melts my heart as she says brightly, “I left the water in the tub.”
“Why?”
I’m surprised, and she blushes.
“Habit, I guess. We were allowed one bath every three days at the convent, and it was passed down between us. I liked it best when it was my turn to go first.”
I am stunned and say carefully, “One shared bath every three days and you want me to take you back there.”
I shake my head, and she giggles as she slips into the seat beside me.
“It’s normal. I never questioned it.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would want to live that way.”
Her hands cup the mug with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
The fire is heating her skin, and the scent of lavender fills my nostrils and as I dip closer to her wet hair, I shift, pulling a cushion between us because, fuck me, this is torture. If she saw what I’m packing right now, she would be terrified, and I’m not talking about my gun. I want her so fucking much it’s impossible to string a coherent sentence together.
“Tell me about the convent.”
There’s not much else to do but learn everything I can about her because, hell, all I want is to slip inside her and remain there all night long. However, that is definitely not an option right now because I’m taking this slow, no matter how tormenting it is for me.
“It’s easy.”
“It doesn’t sound easy. I mean, one bath every three days, which means one fresh one in every nine.” I shake my head as she giggles.
“As I said, it’s normal but quiet, though. There isn’t much noise to distract, which means a lot of time to think.”
“Thinking isn’t living, baby.”
“I know, but well, there is a lot to say for peace of spirit, Julius.”
