The saturated cloth sits in his right hand, and he holds his left out to me. “Let me take care of you, Blaze.”
Throughout my life, I’ve faced so many things I didn’t deserve—things that shouldn’t happen to anyone. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I do not deserve this man.
I don’t deserve the way he makes the pain go away. I don’t deserve how he looks at me like he might actually love me. I don’t deserve the life he could give me.
Woe is me and all that, but I can’t help wanting it. I’m so tired of being alone with Kohen on the sidelines.
Hesitating for only a moment, I take his hand, and something settles between us that I can’t quite name. It’s too shallow to be called love. Too deep to be called infatuation. But something in between that tastes like acceptance.
The cloth seeps warmth into my skin, soothing my aching muscles. It’s just wet enough to dampen my skin without feeling likeI’m about to be submerged underwater. Kohen is meticulous with his movements, gently going over blemished skin to massage my tender flesh. His eyes always stay on his task, never straying to my chest or between my legs or staying too long on bruised areas.
The lack of judgment or pity in his attention isn’t something I thought I’d come to appreciate. He knows as well as I do that the decision I made that landed me in that tub is all on me. Yet, he isn’t pointing fingers; he’s helping me pick up the pieces of the fallout.
Watching him bathe me is enrapturing, just as it’s frightening. It’s like I’m laying my heart out for him to do with as he pleases. And what he wants to do is take care of it.
I’m not letting my grandfather take this away from me. I’ve already lost too many things I’ve never had, and there’s only so much one person can lose before nothing is left to be taken away.
“I know what I want.” I swallow, touching his hand to make him pause. “I want it all to burn. I want it so the only thing they have left is the clothes on their back.”
I don’t want to rise above. I don’t want to find peace in the ruin. I want enough blood to fill a bath so I can wash away the sins of my mother and father.
When the hate is gone, there will only be pain. But that pain means nothing when it’s all I’ve ever known. My grandfather has built his life on top of my starving body. He let my bones whittle, and infections fester within the rotting walls of the structure he built.
Before Seraphic Hills, the drugs kept me going. I itched for them because there was nothing else for me to reach for. Now, when I close my eyes, I can see my grandfather’s cold indifference and McGill’s cowardly stance. I can still recall how Boris’s eyes gleamed as he shoved me in the tub, and the men’s faces as they locked me in there.
“I am done paying for the crime of my birth.”
It’s time those men reap the consequences of their actions. No matter the cost.
Something akin to pride blooms in the golden irises of Kohen’s eyes, and sparks of admiration curve across his lips.
“I told you, Thief. If you want a fire, you just need to ask.”
If Blaze doesn’t walk out of that bathroom in the next fifty seconds, several possible things could happen.
One option is to kick the door down. She pushed me out over two hours ago, and I don’t like how silent she is in there. It doesn’t help that she was groaning on and off earlier. When I tried opening the door, she almost took my hand out when she slammed it in my face. I nearly lost my eye during my second attempt—it turns out she just needs to be injured to have impeccable aim with her shoe-throwing.
The second option is to track McGill down and flatten his frontal lobe against his spinal cord—which, in all honesty, is going to happen either way.
The third is the same as option two, plus a trip to Jonathan Whitlock Sr.’s house, where I do the exact same thing to him.
There’s a dip in the carpet from where I’ve been pacing, and the room smells of smoke from how many times I’ve lit my lighter. Sweat has started to gather between my shoulder blades because half an hour ago, the little shit said she’d be ready in ten minutes. But she’s still in there. And she won’t let me see her to make sure she’s okay. If I had known she’d take forever, I would have waited to get dressed instead of suffocating in this suit.
Huffing, I discard the jacket of my tux onto her bed and resume pacing, rolling the wheel of my newly acquired lighter as I do.
I pull out my phone and check the news for the latest updates on Oskadine. Every single headline is about how Osman Pharmaceuticals is ready to start mass-producing the medication that my grandfather started working on before he died. Seeing my family succeed turns my sour mood from bad to worse.
My parents should enjoy their success while they can. They won’t have it for much longer.
Stomping up to the bathroom, I angle my head to the door. “How much more time do you need?” I bite out.
There’s a yelp followed by a clatter against the bathroom sink. “For fuck’s sake, Kohen,” she growls. More clattering ensues. “If you ask me one more time, I’m never coming out.”
I take a deep breath at the sound of her voice. “Don’t make threats you can’t back up, Thief. You’re cute when you’re thrown over my shoulders.”
A cupboard slams. A scuffle. Cursing. “I am notcute.” I stumble back when the door whips open. “Do I look fuckingcuteto you?”
“Certifia—” The word hangs as I take in her appearance.
