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“Kain,” I whisper before untangling myself from him and shuffling to my knees in front of him. The cuts on his face make me flinch. “We need to clean you up.”

His eyes are cast down, rivulets of blood cascade down his neck and torso, soaking into his grey joggers.

“Come on.” I pull him up, placing his arm over my shoulders and lead him to his en-suite bathroom, kicking the doors closed behind us.

I flick the wall lights on, I don’t want to sting his eyes with the bright, main light. His head is still pointed down as I shuffle through his cabinets, searching for a first aid kit. I curse when I reach the final cupboard but come up empty. Grabbing a fresh towel, I run it under the warm water and spread some soap into it.

“In the top drawer of my dresser,” comes a low mumble, but he still hasn’t moved a muscle from his perch on the bathtub.

Following his instructions, I open the wooden drawer but instead of a first-aid kit, there’s a dozen bottles of vodka and whiskey. I sigh, maybe a little too loudly.

“Please.” His voice echoes from the bathroom.

My hand tightens on a bottle of clear liquid, and my lips purse. I don’t want to cause him more pain.

“Please, Jordie.”

With a deep breath, I snatch a bottle and bring it back to the bathroom, fetching another clean towel. I stop short when I notice his leather jacket on the floor, surrounded by what looks like blood stains.

What the hell?

The twist of the cap is grating in the silence, along with the gurgle of the bottle as I pour it onto the cotton, is deafening. With an internal calming mantra, I tilt his chin up. Red, bloodshot hazel eyes connect with mine and every tiny nerve in my face twitches with the effort to hold back any sort of expression on my face as I feel tears rushing to the surface.

I start with the cut on his lip first. His eyes squeeze shut and I can imagine how much that stings. I dab along the cut on his eyebrow and he hisses.

“Why did you do that?” I whisper, dabbing the other smaller cuts on his face.

His eyes snap open. “I’m not letting them marry you off.”

I huff a small laugh. “I don’t think that’s either of our choices.”

Hands grip both sides of my waist, and I stumble as he pulls me into him. His chin rests on the top part of my stomach as he peers into my soul. “I am not letting them.” He drags out every word through clenched teeth, and heat floods my core at the possessiveness in his tone. Little does he know that I don’t want this just as much as him, but somehow, I think he doesn’t want this to happen more than I do. “You can’t stand here and, after everything I’ve seen since you’ve been back, tell me that you’re just going to let them do this to you.”

An uncomfortable wave runs through me. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “I see you, little devil. I see that armour you wear disguised as hate. I see the way you look at them. The act you put on. I see all of you.”

I stand before him, completely tongue-tied.

I glance at his jacket again and he notices.

“Jordie.” He clears his throat. “This isn’t just about money and power…” He pauses like he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. “It’s bigger than that.”

My heart skips a beat.

Fog wraps around my brain, fading out everything I thought I knew, thought I was right about.

He could be doing this to confuse me on purpose, but…

Fuck.

I can’t keep ignoring what’s right in front of me.

A beaten Kain, his possessive hold holding me hostage and confessions tumbling out at the speed of light.

I. Just. Can’t.

Maybe it’s the drugs still swimming through my system, but for the last few days, I’ve not allowed myself to think about what Kain did to me, I’ve been wanting to bask in him to save myself from drowning in what my life could become within a matter of days.