“Rest here.”
You placed my hand against a doorframe, and I leaned on it heavily. I heard the rushing sounds of water, and I breathed in the steam, anticipating my first real bath in months. I walked toward the noise unassisted and found the ledge of the tub.
“How did you know where to go?”
I turned toward your voice. “I felt the vibrations of the water.” I listened for your heartbeat and placed my palm against your chest. “Your heart is racing.”
A long pause and then, “Yes, it is.”
Your skin was warm beneath your shirt, and I felt the rub of your chest hair beneath my fingertips. I reached for the spigot and turned the water off, then turned it on again. Then off…
“Vincent?” you said cautiously. I must have zoned out.
“In my cell, I could only turn on the water for five seconds every hour. I had to ration it between drinking and washing.”
The silence between us wasn’t a comfortable one.
“That must have been difficult,” you said at last. Your voice was tight, like it got whenever you were holding something back.
“It was.” It had been difficult, but it definitely wasn’t the worst part of my imprisonment.
I reached for the ledge of the tub and sat down on it. Marble, I determined from the smooth texture and the chill of its surface. My fingers drifted to my forearm where I traced the marks. Eleven crosswise ridges, I’d memorized them all. Touching them was a compulsion, like counting my Rosary beads. I needed to make one more for my dad, or at the very least, for the human he’d inhabited.
Papa…
Your hand caressed my forearm with the gentlest of pressure. Could you guess at what the marks meant? I knew you’d forgive me—too easily, but I wasn’t ready to confess to you, or face the monster Azrael had made of me.
“Azrael has Papa,” I said softly.
You sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“I saw him. And I spoke to him.” My panic started to rise again at the thought of what Azrael might be doing to him right now. All the ways he might be mistreated. “Do you think Azrael will kill him?”
“No,” you said without any hesitation. “He’s more valuable alive.”
As a way to control me.
“He’s probably being tortured then.”
“Santiago wouldn’t allow it,” you said in an attempt to reassure me.
I stood abruptly and turned away, so that you couldn’t see whatever was on my face. I imagined I was a machine, without any feelings or desires. Made of metal like my cage…
“Vincent?”
How long had it been? Ever since my capture, time had been difficult to track.
“Can you untie this?” I dropped my head and turned my back to you.
Your breath was warm at the nape of my neck as your callused fingers traced along my spine, untying the knots in my gown. Your hands swept over my bony shoulders to remove the thin cloth, causing me to shiver. The gown fell and goosebumps raised along my skin. I crossed my arms and tried to calm my thudding heart.
“What’s wrong?” Your hand was on my shoulder again, gently squeezing.
“I feel stupid,” I admitted. “Needing your help like this for every little thing.”
“I haven’t been able to care for you in a long time.Let me do this for you.” Your seduction was a soothing rumble in my ear, and I welcomed the calm that descended. It felt so good to be under your thrall.
My gratitude at your kindness warred with my self-hatred and threatened to spill over in the form of fat, ugly tears. I swallowed thickly and reached for the tub again. With your assistance, I eased into the warm water. So nice. My shoulders relaxed and my limbs warmed to the heat. I felt a little disembodied. And vulnerable with my scarred, naked body on display. I’d come back to you a shell of my former self. Scared and timid. What must you think of me? I was too afraid to ask.
