All those weeks, I had truly begun to believe I was falling into an abyss of insanity. Questioning everything and everyone around me, disbelieving the truth standing right in front of my eyes.
All along the truth was that my grandpa’s decision to leave the cult had cycled back around as a burden on my shoulders. An executioner’s ax barely restrained and hovering in wait over my vulnerable neck. It was there, in the hollow silence of my ancestral home, where I found myself trapped in the epilogue of a dark inheritance.
26
“Ican’t… can’t deal with all this. It-it’s too much to bear.”
Not that I had expected her to, but Ophelia wasn’t taking the news well.
I couldn’t blame her. It was a lot to accept when the world as you knew it shattered before your eyes. I’d had decades to simmer in the knowledge being foisted upon her head. And while she was brilliant, I was asking her to believe in myths and legends when her life up to that point had been logistics and rationality.
“But you aren’t dealing with it alone,” I offered.
Ophelia looked at me with an expression of sorrow. For herself, surely, but also for the secret about my past I’d let slip. Such a sweet and empathetic girl.
She had asked about my involvement, and I mentioned my sister before realizing the words had escaped. Though it wasn’t pity in Ophelia’s sweet, honey-gold eyes. No, it was a gentle sympathy that made me want to melt into her gaze and welcome my doom.
I hadn’t mentioned my sister for so long. So many years without saying her name, despite it being vengeance for her that carried me for as long as possible. Endless sleepless nights, hiding bodies where they wouldn’t be found, the fathomless depths of blood on my hands… and no one to share her memory with.
But I didn’t want to linger on the agonies of my past when Ophelia’s life was being upended. My wounds had scarred over, and hers were fresh, raw and festering.
“Come here,” I said. She must have gone partially numb, as she stepped closer without argument. It made me miss the spark she usually fired back with. Ophelia barely grumbled to herself as I grasped her shoulders and steered her away from the kitchen and down the hall.
She had already questioned how I knew my way around the Ashcroft home, and I prayed she didn’t think of it again. While yes, my prior knowledge stemmed from visits with Hunter, that had been years ago. Not that I would be telling her how often I entered her home recently. She simply didn’t need to know.
Once inside the bathroom, I sat her on the lip of the tub before rolling up my sleeves and turning on the faucets. Her lips twisted into a minor frown, brows knitted together with concentration as she tracked the motion of my arms. I almost smirked, relishing the fact that she ogled me so often.
Warmth suffused the bathroom, and soft tendrils of steam rose from the water. Some of the tension from the kitchen conversation faded into the background as I focused on caring for my girl in the way she deserved.
She was lost in her inner turmoil, too distracted by her own thoughts to argue when I worked on removing her clothing. It gave me time to stroke her soft skin and observe her at my leisure. It was my first proper opportunity to look at her so closely—so freely. I loved every inch I revealed, like opening a long-awaited present on Christmas morning.
There were tiny silver stretch marks on her hips, likely from the growth spurt that resulted in her mouthwatering curves. She had freckles on every inch of her skin, though most of them were ghostly pale and hard to spot. A tiny, dark birthmark decorated the stretch of skin beneath her bottom left rib, and I wanted topress my mouth to it. I wanted to lick her stretch marks and spots until I’d memorized all of her with my tongue.
When my fingers stopped at the waistband of her underwear, she jolted. Her hands landed on mine, stopping me from finishing undressing her.
“Wait, I can—”
“Ophelia,” I sighed her name, feeling it burn the forges in my chest. “Let me take care of you. Please.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and something glistened in her eyes. But she turned her head and simply nodded. I bit my tongue as her simple cotton underwear came off. God, her cunt was so divine it took all my discipline not to bury my head between her thighs right now and feast.
A breathy moan slipped free as she lowered herself into the steaming water. The kind of sound I could play on repeat in my mind for the rest of my life.
Her petite hand caught my wrist when I stood. I met her large doe-eyes and parted lips. She looked like a wounded creature begging to be saved. As fucked up as I was, I knew I was the only one who could worship her back to health.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded.
A pleasant warmth rushed through me, and I smiled.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She released my hand, and I reached for the buttons of my Oxford shirt.
Sinking back into the large clawfoot tub, she grasped the rim with white knuckles, attention rapt as I undressed. Her breasts peaked on the water, teasing me with a sample of what hid beneath the surface. And I didn’t hide my erection as I undressed to join her. I wanted her to know that I desired her—always.
Ophelia scooted forward, making room for me to sit behind her. A welcome pressure draped over us in the heady warmth of the bathroom. Surrounded by steam and a charged atmosphere.Neither of us spoke when I grabbed her favorite shampoo and began washing her hair. Although she made the most distracting noises as I followed her usual washing routine.
My cock was as hard as steel by the time I grabbed the cloth to wash her body.
Her skin was hot from the water and from the tension rising in her blood. She circled her hips, mimicking the slow strokes of the soapy washcloth in my hand traveling down her body. Her back was flush with my chest, and each time she wiggled her soft ass ground into my cock, nearly torturous.
