At that, she relents, seeming embarrassed at her wrong assumption.
I carry her to the bath and lower her onto the edge with her feet dangling over the side, testing her balance before I let her go.
She winces as her feet hit the water, but she doesn’t complain. My girl has always been strong.
While her feet are soaking, I get the medicine kit from the cabinet under the basin.
She looks around the spacious bathroom with the indoor garden framing the bath. “This doesn’t look like you.”
“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “What did you expect my house to look like?”
“White, for starters. Not black like your soul.”
I take a clean towel from the rack and drape it over my shoulder. “Isn’t black fitting then, considering?”
“Not in your case.” She wraps her arms around my neck for purchase as I lift her from the water and carry her back to the bench. “Shouldn’t you be trying to fool everyone into thinking you’re harmless?”
I meet her jade green eyes. “They know what I am.”
She shivers.
“Cold?”
She shakes her head and averts her gaze.
I get down on one knee and attend to her injuries, disinfecting the broken skin and applying an ointment before covering those and the blisters with band-aids.
“There.” I let her feet down. “That should help.” Cutting her a dark look, I deliver an ultimatum. “Next time, tell me.”
“Or?”
Here she goes again with that favorite little question of hers. There’s no point in testing my boundaries. She’ll learn quickly I have none.
“Or, from now on, I’ll carry you over my shoulder.” I grin. “In fact, I like the idea. Maybe I’ll do it anyway.”
Tilting her head, she studies me. “Why do you even care about my feet if you don’t give a damn about my feelings?”
“I care about every part of you.” I rub a thumb over the bridge of her foot. The caress is tender, and I revel in the fact that she doesn’t even realize she’s allowing me to touch her in a way that doesn’t involve sex or pain. “That includes your feelings.”
She laughs again. “Your actions say something entirely different.”
“My actions are necessary. There’s a good reason behind everything I do.”
“So you keep on saying.”
I lift her foot to my mouth and place a soft kiss over the blister. “There. Better?”
In a blink, she shuts down. She pulls her foot from my grasp and makes to stand, but I don’t let her get away. My Tatiana is still somewhere inside the beautiful woman with the invisible scars facing me. I haven’t lost her. I have to believe that. Because to have lost her would mean I broke something in my quest to own it, and for a reason I can’t explain, the idea of having ruined something so utterly perfect is like a thorn festering under my skin.
She stares at me with wide, green eyes as I lock my hands around her waist and lift her onto the vanity. The toothbrush holder falls over. The glass rolls off the edge and shatters on the floor.
The violence of that unintentional act rings with the breaking of crystal in the air. The atmosphere changes, all the softness gone as lust crackles between us.
So be it.
If it’s violence that pulls her out of her shell, I’ll use it. I’ll do anything to rip away her mask. I’ll rather wrestle an honest scream from her lips than endure her cold shoulder and faked calmness.
She gasps when I shove her skirt up her legs before spreading them wide. The lace panties I bought with the dress barely covers the golden curls between her thighs. The sight is enough to make me high on need. On her.
