Page 42 of Enemy of the Heart

At some point, he must’ve pulled up his trousers because I’m perched on his lap between his spread thighs while he sits on the cold concrete floor. He holds me tightly as I shake, tears still caught in the trap of my lashes.

He strokes my back with one hand and braces me with the other as he murmurs honeyed words into my hair that’s now coated in sweat and blood.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did so well, baby. I’ll bandage you up in a bit.”

I almost tell him not to bother, that I’ll be fine, but I think he might have some kind of aftercare kink. Anyway, it’s kind of nice when he tends to me, even if he’s the source of the wound in the first place.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, one that I feel more in my heart than on my skin. I tilt my head back to look at him for the first time since I came so hard that my life flashed before my eyes. Adoration and veneration are stamped on his face, making my chest swell.

If Viktor reviews these tapes, he’s going to be in for the shock of his life and mostly because of my being curled up in Sean’s lap.

When I’ve regained control of my heart rate, I slowly slide my hand up Sean’s neck. I cup his jaw and tilt his head down. “Are you alright?”

As the back of his head hits the concrete wall behind him, I drop my hand. He blows out a breath. I silently pray to the hormone gods that the oxytocin and dopamine that flooded his system were the perfect antidote to whatever toxicity was flowing through his mind.

“Yeah.” He nods absently, his gaze locked on the wall across from us. Or maybe it’s on the table, I can’t tell. He’s quiet for another few beats before speaking again. “How did you survive what I did to you? How do you not hate me for it? That place is the undiscovered tenth circle of Hell.”

I shift in his lap until I’m straddling him fully so that we’re eye-to-eye. “I was trained to endure everything you threw at me. I was simply completing an assignment; the same way you were. I don’t hate you for any of that. If anything, I suppose I should thank you.”

His eyebrows dip. “Thank me?”

“Sure. If somebody else had been the one to waterboard me, I might not have made it off the island, and I certainly wouldn’t have found the first man I’ve ever actually liked.” I smile at him genuinely.

His throat bobs on a swallow. “Lou, I’m not good at this shit.” He blows out a noisy breath. “I hate that I want to hurt you. I’ve struggled accepting my darker…preferences for a long time, but being on the other side of things at Ex-I amplified that. I don’t want to like those things, especially not now.”

While I’m not a sadist, and that’s not something I’ve ever battled with, I understand what he’s saying. The journey to accepting yourself—no matter the proclivity—is rarely simple. For me, the rage and violence that existed in my soul was something that I had to learn to embrace. With a sprinkle of encouragement and a hefty dose of time, Sean will get there, too.

I cup his cheeks with both hands. “We can’t always help the things we’re drawn to. I’ve told you before, but you should never apologize for the things you enjoy. Besides, I hope you know by now that I like them, too. That’s why you’re still alive and I’m always wet.”

He snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching. That simple expression feels like winning the lottery.

Sean presses a kiss to my forehead as serene silence stretches between us. I get the sense that he believes what I told him, but just in case he doesn’t, I add after a minute, “Don’t shield pieces of yourself from me. We’ve seen each other’s worst. Nothing could make me run from you.”

“I’m sorry, Louhi—”

I place my index finger over his lips.

“Don’t be sorry, just promise me you won’t hide from me. We’re together, no matter what happens. Everything will get easier with time.”

He captures my wrist in his hand and brushes his lips over the inside of my palm, his eyes locking onto mine. “I promise.”

Sean

After coming our motherfucking brains out, I came back to the cottage to shower. I’ll admit that I do feel a bit better, not healed, but…lighter.

Once clean, I find Jace sprawled out on the stone-colored couch watching something on the television entirely in Russian.

“Hey, where’s Louhi?”

“She went out. She mentioned something about errands. I think that might be code for killing somebody, but I didn’t ask.”

He eyes me for a second before inclining his head. “Feel better? You doing alright?”

I underestimated the power of simply sitting on the floor with Louhi in my arms. That healed me as much as anything. I’ve never been good with my feelings and even worse with sharing them.

I slump into the adjacent chair, rubbing a hand over my freshly buzzed hair that I cut myself before my shower. I don’t know if I’ll keep my hair this short permanently, but for now, I appreciate the comfort of the familiar routine. “I’ll be fine. How about you? Are you okay?”

He barks a laugh. “Oh, fuck no. Not even close. But I’m making it. One day at a time until I forget what it was like to have my mother threatened and buckets of ice dropped onto my nuts.”