Page 75 of Hellebore

When his fingers finally slip out, the mattress dips as he leans in to kiss me, slow and deep.

“Good girl,” he rasps against my lips. “Now rest. I’ll take care of you.”

I stay there, limp and chained, feeling his cum slowly leaking from me. Part of me worries how mad he’ll be about it… but another part doesn’t care. I’m too tired. Too sated. For the first time in forever, I feel lighter. Safer.

“Briar.”

His voice pulls me back. The chains are gone. I’m in his arms, and when I look up, his hair is wet, black strands falling across his forehead. He smells like my shampoo.

“You showered,” I say softly.

“I came for you first, but you were already asleep.” He carries me into the bathroom and leans down, the warm water of the bathtub hits my back, and I melt against it.

I hum at the heat, though it stings a little between my legs. “I’m so sore,” I murmur.

He chuckles, low and soft. “I know. I’ll let you rest until tonight.”

As he gathers the bottles, I notice they’re all the exact same brands I use. Shampoo, conditioner, shower gel—everything. I should feel terrified by how deeply he’s studied me.

But I don’t.

Drystan is insane. He’s dangerous. A villain wrapped in shadows and obsession. Yet he looks at me like I’m the only light in his darkness.

No one has ever loved me like this.

He would burn the world for me… and some twisted part of me loves that he would.

I watch him—broad back flexing, muscles shifting as he reaches for things. His wet black hair, the intensity in his eyes even now. I try the old test I used to do with Lucille when we were drunk: imagining the man we were fucking with another woman.

My stomach twists violently.

No. He’s mine.

Shit. Am I losing my mind?

I’m sitting in the warm bathtub, knees drawn to my chest, while Drystan kneels beside me. His strong hands rub slow, soothing circles along my back and shoulders. Even from this position, I can see the thick veins running along his forearms, the way his muscles flex and shift every time he moves. How can someone so dangerous touch me with this much care?

“Was Tom your first kill?” I ask, forehead resting on my knees. I don’t look at him. I’m not sure I want to see the truth in his eyes.

“No.”

I lift my head slowly. He’s still kneeling beside the tub, working shampoo into my hair with careful fingers.

“How many?” I ask.

He pauses. Those forest-green eyes meet mine. “Four since I was released. Two while I was inside.”

Oh my God. “And they still let you out?”

A dark smirk tugs at his lips. “I was never caught, Briar. Not yet.”

My heart is racing.

“Why were you in jail then?”

He exhales heavily. Pain flashes across his face before it hardens into quiet anger. “Drystan?”

He leans over the edge of the tub and kisses my forehead, then gently rinses the shampoo from my hair with steady hands. “My father stole crypto from his clients for years. He said I was young with a clean record and I could take the fall and get parole.” A bitter chuckle escapes him, hollow and cold. “I was stupid. I agreed. But right before the trial, one of the men he stole from killed himself.”