Page 75 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

I shudder, biting my lip until it bleeds.

“In your mind, he told you his weakness. You just need to remember it.”

“I don’t want to remember any of it.”

His arm tightens. “Okay, let’s talk about other things.”

“Like what?” I say, staring at the sizzling crêpe.

“Like how we’re going to make you feel better.”

I snort. “Nothing can make me feel better.”

“Oh, I think you underestimate just how determined I can be.”

He uses a spatula to easily remove the crêpe onto a plate with a couple of others already stacked up and moves the frying pan off the stove.

Blaze lets go of me and moves to a drawer where he pulls out a knife and fork. His hair is loose and hanging down to his waist. It looks like a black waterfall.

He comes back and cuts into the stack and stabs a layered section. He lifts it easily and turns to me.

“Open.”

I narrow my eyes. “No one has ever fed me before.”

“Then this will be a wonderful experience. Think of it as learning a new skill.”

He jiggles it in front of me.

“I think this is a terrible-”

He shoves the forkful into my mouth. I almost spit it out, but it tastes good, and I’m hungry. It’s warm, and it reminds me of being safe and laughter. Memories I don’t think are mine, but I like to pretend that Merle’s happiness could belong to me, just a little bit. I blink back the burning in my eyes while I chew. When he lifts another mouthful, I don’t protest. In fact, I silently eat the whole thing, but I feel like, with each mouthful, he’s stripping me naked, revealing parts of me I never wanted the world to see.

“Okay. So, now that you're fed, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I follow silently as he leads me into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. Blaze is gentle when he takes my clothes off. He doesn’t get out of his jeans, doesn’t try to make it sexual. He just turns on the hot water and gets the shower ready.

“When I was growing up, my dad hated the fact that my mum met her new bonded. That she dared to leave his abusive ass. I was a tool, a weapon to be used against her, and she was just as vicious in making sure I hurt him, too.”

“They hurt you.”

He lifts those freaky grey eyes to me and smiles. “Yes, they did. Until I stopped letting them.”

The deadly violence in his eyes is mesmerizing. He reaches out, watching me carefully. I don’t dare flinch. When his fingers slide over my shoulders, across my collarbone and up to circle my neck, all I can do is groan.

“Do you trust me, Raptor?”

I lift heavy eyelids. That is a loaded question, but the answer is easy to find, harder to say. “Yes.”

He applies just a slight amount of pressure and walks me backward into the water. One hand leaves me and then returns, sliding up the naked curve of my ass and up over my lower back.

I want to lean into his touch, let my shaking knees collapse and cling to him.

The smell of soap poisons the air between us, but we both ignore it. Blaze lathers up his hands and then starts at my neck. Long, slow massages that relax, arouse, break me down and build me up. He is methodical in his movements, not lingering over one part of my body longer than any other.

I watch him, unable to look away. He gets wet, his jeans soaked. His hair hangs in wet clumps around him. Somehow, the water makes him seem bigger, stronger, more mysterious. When his grey eyes flash up to my face, my knees get weak, and I hold my breath, not daring to move lest he disappears like some fairy prince I’ve conjured in a lucid dream.

He kneels down and soaps my legs, then washes my feet.