Page 35

“You do not fear me,” I said, tying the last knot.

“You won’t hurt me.”

The thought of harm coming to Zuri in any way made me grit my teeth.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

“Oh.”

I had said too much.

I slid two fingers beneath each loop. Warm skin. Steady pulse. Good colour. I drew the cotton sheet from beneath her and settled it over her, and the room was so quiet I could hear the ice machine shudder in the corridor. The sweetness of her hair rose from the pillow. I never looked back as I walked to the bathroom.

Safety was the goal. It did not stop me from accepting the fact that I never wanted to let her go. Zuri was a ray of hope in my life. Her light reached the darkest corners of me, the ones I had spent years sealing shut.

I ran the cold tap and splashed my face. Water dripped from my beard. The light above the sink buzzed.

I stared at the man in the mirror, and knew that whatever battle within me remained had been lost.

The shower was long and hot. I stood beneath it with my palms flat against the tiles and let the water scald the back of my neck until the steam wrapped the room in white. I was stalling.

I had a woman in my bed, and for once I wanted to hold her in my arms. To feel the weight of her on my chest. The warmth of her seeping into me.

She would not know if I held her while she slept.

That was exactly why I should not.

I took my time drying myself off and running a comb through my hair. The towel was rough, the mirror fogged and clearing in slow patches, the scar on my cheek pale against my skin. She would still be tired from her ordeal. It would take a few more days for her to heal on the outside. That was the easy part.

I stared at my hands for a moment.

I had lost count of how many men I had tortured. How many I had killed. These hands had tied rope for pleasure and for pain. Last night they had lifted gravel out of the sole of her foot and tried to mend her back.

Once, I had been too young to protect my family. I had not been too young to carry it. And in a blood-stained green dress, in a yard full of the dead, I had seen what I lost.

If I were a better man, I would let her go.

But Zero had provided a low-risk exit strategy. They would be looking at airports, not at commercial cruise ports designed for tourists. That was the logic. It was not the reason.

I pushed the handle down, knowing I had not locked the door. Bound and in my bed, where could Zuri go? But I would tread carefully. Even a lion could be mauled by an angry lioness.

I walked around the bed and once again placed myself between her and the door. The mattress dipped as I slipped beneath the sheet. She did not move. Her hands were tucked beneath her pillow again, my rope against her wrists.

Her breathing was too even. Too measured. The breathing of someone who was pretending.

I did not call her on it.

I rested my hand over her wrists, lightly, and waited. A heartbeat. Two. Her fingers twitched beneath mine, then slowly curled around the edge of my palm and stayed. She said nothing. Neither did I.

I twisted my other hand around to switch off the lamp. The room went dark, save for a thin seam of light from the car park slipping through the curtains and laying a pale stripe across the ceiling. The air conditioning hummed. Somewhere down the corridor the ice machine shuddered. Her hair smelled sweet, my own soap was on her skin, and the two folded into one.

The sound of her breathing was enough to reassure and relax me. Slowly, it softened into the real thing.

It was the first time I had fallen asleep with ease, and not exhaustion.

❦ ❦ ❦

I woke before the light did. An old habit, drilled into me in Chernograd.