Page 106 of Serpent King's Prisoner

I looked into his dark eyes.

“Hey. Hey. You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t have to. It’s okay. Just talk to me,” I whispered again, a plea laced with desire, needing him to share his pain, his fears, so I could shoulder them alongside him.

I locked eyes with Nathan, his gaze wild and tempestuous like the stormy sea. “Look at me,” I commanded, my voice steadier than I felt. His breathing was erratic, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. Slowly, his hands stilled on my waist, and he looked up, meeting my gaze.

“Abby,” he choked out. His voice was barely a thread of sound, but it was enough to unravel him completely. I took his face in my hands, feeling the rough stubble against my palms, and just held him there, our foreheads touching, our breath mingling.

“It’s alright. Just let it out,” I urged softly.

And that’s what broke him.

A deep, shuddering breath tore from his lips. I thought he would sigh or something.

Instead, he started sobbing, great heaving sobs that shook his entire body. He ducked his head against my shoulder, hiding from the world, seeking refuge in the curve of my neck. His shoulders trembled under my hands, agony ripping through him.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, offering silent comfort. He didn’t tell me what happened, what had carved such a deep wound into his soul, but it didn’t matter—not right now. He just needed someone to hold him, and I would be that person for as long as he needed.

When the sobs finally subsided, I gently tugged him by the hand, guiding him toward the bathroom. All thoughts of calling Tyler—or anything else—vanished as I turned on the shower, reached out to feel the water pouring over my fingertips as it warmed up.

“Hey,” I said. “You don’t have to talk. You know what always makes me feel better?”

He didn’t answer. He was still crying.

“A shower,” I said. “A nice hot shower. Do you want to do that?”

He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark exhaustion. For a moment, he was silent.

Then he nodded, a barely visible dip of his head.

“Okay,” he croaked out, his voice rough from crying.

I helped him undress, his body heavy with the weight of whatever torment he was carrying. His hands were trembling as they clung to me for support, a silent confession of his vulnerability that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

I got undressed and pulled him in with me.

Under the hot stream of water, I watched as the tension started to slowly ebb from his body. His head tipped back against the tiled wall, steamy rivulets trailing down his dark skin and washing away the traces of tears. For just a moment, he was almost peaceful.

Underneath the spray, Nathan was different. The hardness in his gaze softened as if the cascading water was washing away more than just the sweat and grime from his body. His dark hair plastered onto his forehead, making him look younger than his twenty-seven years.

I washed him, letting my hands roam over him under the guise of cleaning. My fingers traced the dragon tattoo inked onto his chest, feeling its details under my fingertips as if it were alive. It was a part of him—an indelible mark that he wore with pride yet concealed like a secret never to be shared.

“Do you want to have sex?” I asked.

His brows furrowed as he looked down at me, his dark eyes almost black under the dim bathroom lights. He shook his head, a silent sigh escaping his lips. Then, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close against him until there was no space between us.

His lips grazed against my ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers coursing down my spine. “Not like this,” he murmured. “Not when I’m...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The words hung heavily between us, unspoken.

Not when I’m hurting.

Not when I’m broken.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to. We can have sex only when you want to have sex.”

He winced, as if I’d just slapped him. “Abby…”

“No,” I interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. “Today isn’t about that. It’s about you letting go and trusting someone else with your pain. And I’m here, Nathan. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a flicker of something so raw and intimate it took my breath away. He held my gaze for a moment longer before he let out a ragged sigh, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

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