He remembered little of the Rite, of the magic that was forced through his body, changing him, corrupting him. His brothers had witnessed some of it, knew what he’d been through, or the direct aftereffects.
Fuck.
He needed to fucking sleep. Just an hour. Maybe two if the stars fucking aligned.
“You guys are saying a lot, and yet nothing at all,” Rae muttered, the chain hanging limp from her arm. “So I know you’re like this weapons god or something, and in any other situation I’d fan girl and stuff. But can I get this thing off now? Pretty please?”
Jax patted the table, silent as he worked on her cuff. Her shoulders were tight, her wince small as he tugged on the metal. It opened just as gently as his had, but beneath, her skin was bruised, broken.
“Thanks, brother.”
Jax’s voice was detached when he moved towards the front door. “You’re supposed to be on rotation tonight, but I’ll cover you.” His lips were tight. Jaw too. “You need us, you call. No exceptions.”
“I’m fine, I’ll –”
“Maybe you should speak to Eva. She understands –”
“She went through much fucking worse than me.” Titus’s head jerked, needing to look away from his brother’s penetrating gaze. “I’m fine, I’m dealing.”
Jax’s movements were rigid as he returned his tools to the bag. “Then Lucy.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Titus said with a scowl.
Jax’s reply was instant. “If you think we’re babysitting you, you’re a bigger idiot than I realised.” He didn’t add more, turning to leave with a slam of the door.
Titus pressed his palms against it, for just a second as exhaustion beat heavily against him. He would have stayed there, head limp until the scent of copper drifted, his beast forcing him to move. Reminding him he wasn’t alone.
“You didn’t tell him who I was.”
He’d expected Rae to leave, to run. Instead she remained at the table, her delicate fingers studying the cuffs that had been locked around them for the past few hours. Her right wrist wasn’t a pretty sight, the skin several shades of black and purple, with a few marks deep enough that they bled.
“If I’d told him you were the one that tried to kill me, you’d be dead.” Titus leaned on the table, hands planted flat on the surface.
She didn’t believe him, her expression smug.
“I didn’t tell him, because you’re mine to deal with.” He made sure to move closer, to force her to lean back. Except she didn’t, his nose almost touching hers. “And trust me, I’m going to fucking enjoy it.” Without another word, he turned towards his room, knowing she’d follow soon enough. She wasn’t one to not have the last word.
It wasn’t long before he heard a chair squeak, and just as he’s predicted, she’d moved to sit by his desk while he searched in the top drawer for the well-used first aid kit. The rest of the drawers were virtually empty, a few spare clothes and toiletries, but nothing else.
The apartment wasn’t his home anymore, but he’d still kept it. A sanctuary from when he needed a break from his brothers, or for when he needed a release. Sex was always cathartic, a game that involved pushing boundaries, whether that was pleasure, or pain until his partners begged. And they always begged, turning the women that willingly climbed into his bed into nothing but creatures that craved his touch, their brains empty but for the pleasure he’d forced through their bodies. It was addictive, that control.
Except he found he wasn’t interested in the softness of women anymore. Or anything at all, for that matter.
“What are you –” Rae’s eyes landed on the first aid kit in his hands. “Oh.”
Titus was silent as he pulled out the antiseptic cream, holding out his hand for hers.
“I can do it,” she said, her scowl pinching her face. It highlighted the little sprinkle of freckles, the thought that his assassin was a cute little doll with freckles was enough to curve his lips.
“Sure you can.”
His fingers were gentle as he brushed the cream across her skin, the grazes stinging as she winced. Her left arm done, he silently asked for her right arm, only for her to hiss, jerking her hand back to cradle against her chest after a little pressure.
“It may be sprained, you’ll need to wrap it.” Searching the contents, he found what was left of the bandages, the roll almost at its end. “You want me to do it now? Or after you’ve cleaned yourself up?”
Her scowl deepened. “Cleaned myself up?” The comment seemed to disgust her, or maybe it was becausehe’dsuggested it.
“Do whatever the fuck you want, but I’m going to shower.” His t-shirt was itchy, back aching as he rose to his full height. “Do I have to remind you what happened last time you tried to kill me?”
