16
Chapter 16
Kara
Asthesoundofmy voice fades away, the steam vanishes as if it never existed, leaving me shivering despite the heat still pouring from the shower. The red tint washing over my skin fades to clear water in an instant. My knees buckle as the horror of what I just witnessed hits me.
Suddenly, the door bursts open so hard it hits the wall behind it. Before I can fall, muscled arms band around me. Marcus pulls me against his chest, and I crumple into him, not caring how he got here or that I’m soaking his expensive shirt. Or that I’m naked except for the towel clutched to my chest. A sob tears from my throat as I press my face into his shoulder, my whole body shaking.
“He was here! Here in the mirror. And I saw her,” I choke out between sobs. “Gran… He hurt her… I couldn’t…”
Marcus’s arms tighten around me. One hand cradles the back of my head while the other spreads across my back, steadying me. He doesn’t say anything; just holds me as I break down. His presence anchors me, solid and real against the nightmare I just witnessed.
“Shhhh…” he soothes.
I breathe in his scent – warm, rich, masculine – letting it ground me as my tears soak into his shirt. His thumb strokes gentle circles against my spine, and I feel his chin rest on top of my head.
He’s angry; I sense his fury at Lucien warring with his need to comfort me. His thoughts brush against mine, a wordless assurance that I’m safe, that he’s here.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he says at last, his deep voice washing over me in a warm, comforting wave. Just minutes ago, I’d rebelled against his strength, and now I’m sinking into it, letting it earth me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, pulling back slightly and tipping my chin up with his fingertip.
I shake my head, staring up into his midnight eyes. “How? How can anything be okay?” My throat tightens, cutting off my words.
“He’s not going to harm her. She’s strong, Kara.” His fingertips trace my cheek, wiping away tears. “Focus on me,” he murmurs. “What you saw wasn’t real. This is real.”
I draw in a shuddering breath, suddenly aware of how close we are. Steam curls around us, making everything feel dreamlike and intimate. But Marcus’s arms around me are solid, anchoring me to reality. His shirt is damp where I’m pressed against him, clinging to the defined muscles of his chest.
“I can’t get it out of my head,” I whisper. “Her face when he—”
“Stop.” His voice is gentle but firm. “That’s what he wants. To get in your head, make you reckless.” His thumb strokes mycheek again, and this time, I can’t suppress the shiver that runs through me.
Our bond hums between us, stronger than ever. I can feel his concern, his protectiveness, but underneath that is something else – a growing heat that matches the warmth building in my own body.
“Marcus,” I breathe, not sure if I’m warning him away or drawing him closer.
His eyes darken as he looks down at me, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of indigo-blue remains. One of his hands slides into my wet hair while the other presses against my lower back, drawing me even closer.
He dips his head and grazes his lips against mine, our breaths mingling; not a kiss, something deeper, something more, as if he’s inhaling the essence of me.
The towel between us feels too thin, too flimsy a barrier. Every point of contact between our bodies sends sparks of awareness shooting through me. My heart is racing again, but for entirely different reasons than before.
The towel slides down my body, and suddenly, I’m naked before him, vulnerable and exposed, and yet somehow, it feels completely right.
Steam swirls around us as Marcus looks at me, really looks at me. His dark eyes linger on my breasts, the tips tight, even though the air is warm, then trace a path downward over the curve of my stomach and the soft swell of my mound. My breath hitches. He’s seeing me, completely, for the first time. It’s not lust; there’s a quiet intensity to his gaze, a deep understanding that chills and thrills me at once.
“You’re…lovely,” he says, his voice hoarse. His fingers brush lightly against my skin, and a jolt of electricity courses through me. The water on my flesh seems to intensify the feeling, makingeach touch burningly exquisite, but the sensation is sweet, gentle, a contrast to the terror I just experienced.
It’s intoxicating.
“Marcus,” I whisper again past the tightness of my throat. His eyes meet mine as his fingertips continue their exploration. From the base of my throat, where my pulse flutters, down my chest, between my breasts, stopping at my navel, where water droplets gleam.
I can’t breathe, yet my chest is heaving beneath the light touch of his fingertips. The connection between us feels so intense it’s dizzying. Overwhelming. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Kara,” he breathes, his voice rougher now, like dark velvet. “Look at me.”
My eyelids flutter open, and I find myself falling into his midnight gaze. There’s a primal heat there that sets my skin ablaze. Without breaking eye contact, his fingers glide back to the curve of my waist, his touch possessive. His other hand lifts to cup my face, thumb brushing away the moisture clinging to my temple.
