“I’m disgusting,” she says, holding up her hands and refusing to sit.
“Never, and I’m not worried about some fucking hotel sheets.” My hands are back on her, waiting for her to tell me whether she’s going to sit on her own or I’m going to make her.
“Only one of us is disgusting,” Soren mutters under his breath, immediately stopping everyone. While I agree with him,this is hardly the fucking time. If he had just kept his dick in his pants, so much of this suffering could have been avoided.
I glare at Soren over my shoulder, but it’s then that I really see him for the first time. I’ve been so busy with my own family and work this holiday that I’ve avoided him entirely.
“Just shut up,” Hadrian says to Soren. Rather than arguing, he complies, looking down at his shoes. The interaction is so strange. I surprise myself when I step away from Sable and walk slowly to the mess that is my friend. His bloodshot eyes stare at me in pathetic defiance as I approach, and I chuckle at the effort. With one single finger, I push him gently, and he sways. Shaking my head, I stop in front of Hadrian.
“Take him to the other room so I can take care of her in peace.” I push the key card into Hadrian’s hand.
He doesn’t argue. No one needs a medical degree to see Soren is as high as a kite, and if I need to put my emotions aside to take care of Sable, I can’t have this idiot commenting.
“Wait here, baby,” I say, trying to ignore the sliver of fear in her blue eyes as I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. This place is as upscale as it gets, and the shower is a marble statement piece with built-in seats right beside a deep, lovely tub. I would love to bathe her, but that isn’t an option until we remove the blood that’s glued to her skin. Checking the water for her, I decide it’s perfect, but before I can grab her, she sneaks up on me.
“I can turn the shower on my own,” she says from beside me.
My jaw sets. “Yes, you can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you.”
Taking her hand and turning her around, I tug the hem of her shirt. I meet resistance. She looks up at me through her lashes, still on the defensive.
“I left you,” she says. “I ran away.”
“We all make mistakes.” I know damn well why she went, and I won’t blame her for being hurt by Soren’s actions.
“It wasn’t a mistake. I did it on purpose. I thought about it.”
I flash her a look. “Is this your way of telling me you really don’t have feelings for me like that?” I can’t help the hint of attitude in my voice, and she looks up at me in shock.
“I have extremely strong feelings for you,” she murmurs so low I nearly miss it.
“Let me take care of you,” I croak. “Please.” Reaching out again, I grab the hem of her shirt, and this time, she doesn’t pull back. The old Lex would never fucking beg, but he died when this woman entered my life. I’m hers in every way, and taking care of her right now is a need. I pull the shirt up, peeling it off the expanse of her stomach. She relaxes her shoulders as I work it up and over her head. The shirt stays rigid as I toss it aside.
When I turn back to her, I suck in a breath, and all thoughts run from my mind. She’s much skinnier than before. I can count her ribs, and I see her prominent collarbones. Even her breasts are smaller, but that’s not what makes my eyes blur in rage. Across her chest is an ugly, infected scab that reads WHORE.
“I’m fine.” She sticks her chin up, daring me to pity her.
Emotions roll inside me, so many fucking emotions. A crash is coming. I lean on the sink, my hands gripping the marble, her trapped between them. My forehead falls to her shoulder.
The answer to all my questions is right here. I asked myself where she was, I wondered if she needed help, if she was fed and okay. Now I know. She was somewhere with that asshole being tortured. She’s malnourished, hurt, and nothing like the Sable I grew to respect.
“Is the blood his?” I ask against her skin.
It takes her a moment to reply, and then finally I hear her voice. “Yes.”
I push myself from that position and continue taking her clothes. I can’t face her right now just as I can’t face myself. There’s a war inside me, but I know she needs me to be under control, so I push it all to the side for her.
“Come on.” I tug her arm to the shower and place her under the spray.
She looks smaller than before, and it’s not just the weight loss. It’s like he chipped something out of her. Like he carved his own version of what Sable is in her mind with the month he had talking shit to her. She’s covered in bruises, blood clots in the inside of her delicate nose, and a heavy bruise blooms around her eyes. I’m a coward as I try to face what’s been done to her and fail to fully keep my composure. Finally, I look at the wound on her chest, the word “Whore” so gruesomely carved into her. This will scar hideously and leave her prone to infection without stitching.
Not caring for my clothes, I step in and take the soap into my hands. She’s only unsure for a second, and then she nods and turns around, letting me lather her body. I clean every inch of her immaculately, particularly careful with the cuts that feel inflamed beneath my touch. I carefully clean her hair, taking the blood and grime away from the pale strands.
Her body feels so incredible beneath my fingers, but it’s not sexual so much as soul-affirming. I need this woman, and knowing how easy the human body is to destroy and cut to pieces, I appreciate how very close I came to losing her. I don’t think I ever would have been okay again if we had.
It takes several washes for her to be clean. By the third, soft sobs echo around the bathroom. I switch from washing to holding her as her small shoulders shake. My jaw sets, anger gripping me, but I don’t say anything. I just wash her, and I pray that Carl Briarwick is burning in hell.
CHAPTER 23
