When she was clean, I lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel, drying her as gently as I could. Her nightdress was folded neatly on the counter—a habit I had picked up after she’d moved into this room. I slipped it over her head, my hands shaking as I tried to ignore the way her body flinched at the lightest touch.
I carried her back to the bed, tucking her beneath the thick blankets. Her breathing was steadier now, her face softening in sleep, but the bruises on her wrists were etched into my mind.
I left the room briefly, returning with a tray of soup and bread. She needed to eat, to regain her strength. I perched on the edge of the bed, brushing her cheek lightly to wake her.
“Dove,” I said, my voice soft. “You need to eat something.”
Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, but she nodded weakly. I held the bowl to her lips, helping her take small sips of the broth. She didn’t protest, her silence breaking my heart all over again.
When the tray was empty, I set it aside and sat beside her, brushing a hand over her hair. She was drifting off again, her body sinking deeper into the mattress as exhaustion claimed her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ll never letthis happen again. I swear to you, Dove, I’ll keep you safe. Always.”
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t respond. Her breathing evened out, and I stayed there, watching her sleep, my heart heavy with everything I couldn’t say. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Forever,” I murmured, the word a promise as much to myself as to her.
The night stretched on, the room bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace. I didn’t leave her side, afraid that if I did, I might lose her all over again. And I couldn’t survive that. Not now. Not ever.
41
DOVE
The moonlight spilled through the tall windows of the bedroom, casting an eerie glow across the room. The flickering shadows danced on the dark, gothic walls, and the floor-length mirror stood like a silent sentinel in the corner, its gilded edges catching the faint silver light. This room—his room—was still haunted by memories I wasn’t ready to face, memories of a time when I thought I understood Ashton Riley, when I thought I might have meant something to him.
I stood in front of the mirror, my arms crossed over my chest as I stared at my reflection. My hair was loose, cascading over my shoulders, and the silk nightdress I wore clung to me, a second skin. I hated how fragile I looked—like a ghost of myself. The dark circles under my eyes told the story of too many sleepless nights, too many tears shed in this very room.
The memories came unbidden, each one as vivid as if I were reliving them. Ashton, slipping into this room in the dead of night, his presence like a shadow, silent but overwhelming. He would climb into bed without a word,his body warm against mine, his breathing steady. I’d never dared to ask why, but I’d known. He didn’t sleep with women—he’d told me that himself in his cold, matter-of-fact way. He would fuck them, use them, discard them, but he wouldn’t sleep with them.
But he’d slept with me.
And that had meant everything, even when I tried to convince myself it didn’t.
Now, all I could hear were his cruel words from the day he’d sent me away. The way he’d ripped my heart out, as though all of this—us—had been nothing more than a game to him. I’d believed him. I’d hated him. And still… I was here.
I turned slightly, my eyes drawn to my reflection. My breath caught in my throat as I lifted the hem of my nightdress, exposing the ugly truth I’d tried to ignore. The raw branding of Bentley James’s initials seared into my skin, a permanent reminder of his cruelty, his need to own me even after all these years. The sight of it made my stomach churn, my throat tightens as tears welled in my eyes.
The tears came faster than I could stop them, hot and bitter, spilling down my cheeks as I stared at the mark. My fists clenched the fabric of my nightdress as my chest heaved with silent sobs. I hated it. I hated him. I hated that I hadn’t been strong enough to stop him.
The faint creak of the door snapped me out of my thoughts. My head whipped around, and there he was—Ashton. His tall, broad frame filled the doorway, his face shadowed by the dim light of the room. But his eyes… his eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
He’d seen it.
“Dove,” he said, his voice low, rough, but I could hear the rage simmering beneath the surface. He stepped into the room, the door shutting softly behind him, and his movements were deliberate, predatory.
I dropped the hem of my nightdress and tried to turn away, but it was too late. He was already in front of me, his hand grabbing my wrist, pulling me toward him. His grip wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either—it was desperate, furious.
“What the fuck is that?” he growled, his voice shaking with anger. He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed me toward the bed, bending me over it with a force that made my breath catch. His hands were steady as he yanked the nightdress higher, exposing the brand again. I flinched, but I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t.
“You’re mine,” he snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Do you understand me? Mine. Not his. Not anyone’s.”
I heard the metallic clink of something, and then I felt the cold touch of his tattoo gun against my skin. My heart raced as panic and anticipation warred within me. I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I just let him work, the low hum of the needle filling the room as he pressed the ink into my skin.
His hands were firm, his touch rough but precise. I could feel the anger in every stroke, the rage coursing through him as he worked to erase what had been done to me, to mark me as his in a way that no one could take away.
“You don’t belong to anyone else,” he said, his voice tight, filled with fury and something else—something raw and vulnerable. “Not him. Not anyone.”
The pain was sharp but bearable, the pressure of the needle almost grounding me as I felt the shadows of his design take form. A dove with dark, swirling shadows around it—his way of reclaiming me, of erasing the stain that had been left behind.
