I thought about protesting. About refusing him. But a deal was a deal, and the sooner he started, the sooner it would all be over.
I pulled my legs up and, slowly, lowered to my elbows.
“Is the bed uncomfortable?” he asked.
I shifted around. “No, it’s not that.” It wasn’t overly comfortable, to be sure. There was a lump under my left shoulder no matter which way I turned. “It’s just…”
“Being in a bed at all?” he guessed.
A short jerk of my chin. “I know it’s silly.” Pathetic, more like.
Raphael rose onto the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, his presence surrounding me. The large bed was also suddenly much smaller. Especially when he peered down on me, our roles reversed from just a moment ago.
“Samara, you went through a trauma as a child. It leaves a scar. That isn’t silly.”
I looked away. It was too much to confess something so shameful and have him look at me with tenderness. Contempt would have been easier to bear. “It’s silly because you’re here, right? You would… you would keep me safe.”
He moved closer. The baseboard creaked, the only sound save for the crackle of the fire. “I would. I would rip them all apart gladly before they could step foot through the threshold.” He paused. “But there’s something you forget, Samara.”
My mind raced—They aren’t here, but they wouldn’t dare while I’m around, but the guards would ensure they wouldn’t get this far.All reasons the panic that coated my skin, sick and sticky while I lay here, was irrational.
He planted his hands on either side of me, caging me in. “If they came for you now, you could kill them yourself.”
I was still reeling when he pulled back, adjusting himself so my calf was in his lap. It wasn’t the same firm touch as when he’d helped with my boots before. This touch lingered, tracing around my muscle. I bit into my lip, staring at him.
He wrapped the middle of my right calf between both hands and pressed. I hissed at the touch. “That hurts.”
He looked at me. “If it didn’t, it wouldn’t work. Breathe with the movements. Inhale,” he commanded, pressing in.
I obeyed.
“Good. Now, exhale.”
I exhaled as he held the spot before releasing. When his fingers moved, shifting lower on the muscle, the muscle felt better. Looser.
“That’s it. Inhale again, just like before,” he instructed.
I drew a breath through my mouth. When he commanded me to exhale, I did so. The process repeated. He murmured the quiet commands over and over, and I no longer had to think to obey. There was a lull to it, the repetition.
“Why am I”—inhale, exhale—“doing this? Vampires don’t”—inhale, exhale—“need to breathe.”
He switched legs. “It’s closer to habit. Vampires won’t asphyxiate, even if there’s no air. But young vampires tend to keep with the movement out of habit, the way you have been.Controlled breathing like this is comforting. Your body knows to tense and relax with the movements, which lets me adjust the muscle. Inhale.”
He continued on my other leg. His movements were unhurried, each press steady, assured. Bit by bit, I relaxed into the lumpy mattress. Tension eased, not just from my calves, but my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how badly everything ached, not until Raphael had spent twenty minutes working through the knots in my muscles. His fingers moved in a slow, hypnotic rhythm that was soothing. He was all the way by my calves. Yes, it was… improperly close. But not so bad. That’s what I told myself.
Until he set my calf down, having finished massaging both sides.
I swallowed as he rose onto his knees and straddled me. Oh, no. On reflex, I tried to pull my legs back to put distance between us. He caught my thigh before I could move.
“The deal was the entire leg,” he reminded me.
I nodded. And I flopped back, no longer willing to look at him as he pressed the heels of his palms around my thigh, just above my knee. Not when I knew he was going to work his way up.
The ceiling was made of three hundred and twenty-eight wooden planks. I knew because I counted them. Then I counted a second and third time, as if they could distract me from the fact Raphael—Raphael—was kneeling on the bed, hands around my thighs.
Worse, he didn’t just tell me to inhale and exhale. He added little comments—Good, you’re doing well, just like that, I know you can handle this, little viper, that’s it, so good, another one now—and each one made my core twist tighter and tighter.
“Relax, little viper. You’re tensing. Just keep breathing. You can do this.”
