Chapter Thirty-Five
Wrath
After another fucked day in The Dismembered Den, I stalk through The Hollows Trailer, yanking my gloves off like they’re suffocating me, ripping my hood down like it's trying to choke the heat out of my skull.
It’s dark. Too quiet. Everyone’s at the campfire, pretending they’re normal for a night.
I tear off my jacket and fling it across the chair before my boots hit the stairs hard.
I just need water, warmth and some fucking silence.
I slam the bathroom door shut behind me, fingers already clawing at my belt—
Then I stop still.
She’s here.
I don’t even need to look—Ifeelher. That static in the air, that twitch under my skin. Her presence slices through the quiet like a scream in a damn chapel.
I glance over my shoulder and instantly see she’s naked.
My vision goes black around the edges as I growl, deep, animal, feral, my hand dropping to the thick bulge in my jeans.
I don’t move. I can’t. She moves past me, gliding like some silent fucking ghost, like she’s always belonged here, like she doesn’t even have to look at me to know I’ll burn circuses and fucking worlds down for her.
I watch her step into the shower, her hair like ink sliding over those perfect fucking peachy cheeks. Bruised and wrapped in bandages. Broken. Mine.
She still hurts. That makes mesick. Makes mehard. Makes me want to peel the skin off the world just to make sure no one ever lays a fucking finger on her again.
She's healing, slowly, but not fast enough. I’ve fucking missed her.
And I hate that I wasn't the one to break the ones who did it.
I should’ve buried them alive. I should’ve made them scream. I should’ve carved their names into my ribs just so I never forget.
She doesn’t say a word and she doesn’t have to.
Because I know what this is. She stepped intomyspace, into me, and now I’m going to remind her who the fuck she belongs to.
She acts like I’m not here as she turns the knob and the water instantly sprays down on her, soaking her little body.
As she pulls her drenched hair forward, she side-eyes me, then looks back until her eyes reach mine.
It’s an invitation I’m not going to fucking decline. It’s been days and I haven’t seen or touched her once. It’s been hell when I knew she was in such a dark fucking place, but I knew she needed space, and she’d come see me when she’s ready.
My belt undoes first, then my zipper, and my jeans follow, hitting my ankles. I move forward in a daze, a little too fucking fast, fingers trembling, and it makes her turn quickly to face me.
I step inside, and she steps back, blue eyes never leaving mine as I press her against the cold tiles. A gasp escapes from the connection of our bodies touching and the coldness on her back. Her nipples immediately stiffen, sliding across my abs.
When I dip my face down to hers, her head tilts back until our noses touch, and my forehead rests on hers. My shaky hands move up the sides of her curvy body slowly, and her breath stutters, eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes searching mine, and my jaw tenses. “I was a bitch with what I said, I didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t your fault. I was just so… confused.”
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply while my hands tighten around the small of her waist.
“Don’t you dare, Allure. Shut the fuck up,” I murmur against her mouth, feeling frustrated that she’s trying to apologize to me — out of all people.
“Little corpse,” she breathes, and my eyes peel open.
