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I shake my head, not understanding what that means. It wasn’t like I intended for this to happen. I didn’t ask for the bruises to be put there.
“Only fucking me, Vixen,” Rhenn commands. His fingers tighten around me before tangling deeper into my hair, and his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
His grip on me is strong, holding onto me like I was someone he lost. I hesitate only a moment before leaning into his embrace.
Our lips move together, breathing mixed.
It’s so unexpected, so raw. I moan against him, and he pushes us back, lifting me onto the washer. Rhenn steps between my legs, his hands falling to my waist. They feel just like they did when we danced together at the tavern, shooting hundreds of sparks through me with every touch. They explore me, owning me.
I hadn’t realized how badly I’d wanted them against me again.
His tongue coaxes my lips apart, deepening the kiss. Our bodies press together, craving this closeness as the room spins around us. It’s hard. Messy.
I rake my nails down his back, drawing out the most delicious groan, and he nips at my bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.
My entire being hums. I want it. I want…
Rhenn pulls back, taking several steps in the opposite direction. His gaze travels over me, brows pulled together like he suddenly hates what he sees.
I sit with my legs dangling over the washer’s edge, face flush and heartbeat rampant.
I’m not exactly sure what just happened, only that it wasn’t supposed to.
“Rhenn…I—”
“You make it so fucking hard sometimes,” he grits out before turning and exiting the room. The front door slams shut, letting me know I’m alone once again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
RHENN
I’ve been walking without direction for the past twenty minutes, finding myself at the edge of the Whispering River.
A symphony of crickets sounds off in the nearby meadows, their chirp a comfort. The willow leaves dance through the air above me, rustling softly against the night breeze. This place is sacred, familiar. The very place I last saw my dad.
I’d spent months trying to find him here, listening for his voice amongst the whispers.
It never came. He never came.
The dead stay dead.
It was after that harsh realization that I stopped looking for him and started trying to find her. Vix.
Now that I have, part of me wishes I hadn’t.
And maybe that’s why I’m here, at the river’s edge. This is where it all started. My desolation. My grief. My anger.
I need the water’s thoughts to speak louder than my own. I need its healing elements to strip away what I’d done for her, because I’m not supposed to protect her.
When I saw what he did, though, the way she wasn’t even there, like he took a piece of her. It was an anger I’d never experienced before, knowing someone hurt her…which I know sounds ridiculous, because all I do is hurt her. It’s why she’s here, so she can feel the pain she caused me.
That’s just it though. She’s mine to ruin. Mine to bleed. No one else touches her.
Peeling my shirt over my side, I wince at the sting of fresh air against the many gashes. Whether I want to admit it or not, that cat can bite. Haider’s fucking lucky this is the worst he did to me. Although, I’m not sure lucky is the term I’d use, considering the shape he’s in after our little dispute.
I lower into the tepid river, resting my arms over the pebbled shore. A light current flows around me, providing near instant relief to the throbbing ache radiating from my ribs.
The late hour transforms the normally emerald green water into a perfect looking glass. Stars, trees, the moons, me. I used to know who I was. I knew exactly what I wanted. Now, it’s like I’m lost. Forgotten. I hardly recognize the face reflecting back at me.
