Page 31 of Between Power and Passion

I breathe in deeply and lean my head against the door. I don’t need any more surprises today. I need Valentina to be on the other side of our bedroom door. Exhaling slowly, I open the right side of the large door and step into the dimly lit room. There she is, curled up on her side in the bed, eyes closed to the outside world. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, watching her silently, afraid to go any closer in case this is just a dream.

Carefully, I walk over to her, the soft carpet masking the sound of my footsteps. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I move slowly, afraid that even the smallest movements will stir her from her sleep. She mumbles something incoherent and turns onto her back, her wet hair sticking to one side of her face.

I stand up from the bed. The need to distance myself from her surges through me. Anger churns inside, a mix of frustration and helplessness that gnaws at my control. The lack of power over our lives eats at me, but I can’t let her wake up to an angry me. Although I long to get into bed and lay beside her, I need a shower to clear my head.

I walk over to the bathroom, feeling the day's grime and tension clinging to me. The atmosphere inside is warm, a small comfort. A towel lies on the counter, neatly folded. I shed my clothes as I approach the shower, each piece falling away like a layer of armor. Reaching the shower pad, I punch in the keys to start it up, and hot water begins to cascade down.

Glancing back at the mess I’ve made, I sigh. If I don’t pick it up now, Valentina will later. She has enough on her plate without having to deal with my chaos. Gathering my discarded clothes, I place them in a neat pile on the counter. Small gestures like this are all I can offer her right now.

I step into the shower, and the hot water beats against my skin, a relentless force that almost matches the fury inside me. The steam rises around me, creating a cocoon of temporary escape. I submerge my head under the furious rays and place my hands on the wall for balance. The adrenaline that helped me survive earlier is washing away along with the blood and dirt. With each passing second, my strength ebbs.

Images of Valentina's face flash through my mind—her wide eyes filled with worry and fear, her soft voice pleading for us to leave this life behind. That look haunts me, a reminder of everything I want to protect her from but can’t.

When my skin becomes immune to the scalding heat of the water, I know it’s time to get out. The filth of the day's events has finally washed away. I step out of the shower and reach for my towel as steam rises from my heated flesh. Wrapping it around my waist, I run my hand through my damp hair, pushing it back from my face.

Exiting the bathroom, I find Valentina waiting for me. She sits on the corner of the bed in a satin pale pink nightgown. Her long black hair hangs damp around her shoulders and face. The color has returned to her skin, suiting her far better than the deathly pale she wore just hours ago.

She slides down from the bed, and as she does, her nightgown—already short—slides up her legs. Her feet softly hit the floor, but she makes no move to come closer. Her eyes run over my body, and I can’t tell if it’s hunger or concern I see in them. Maybe it’s both. I let my eyes roam over her small form, feeling a similar mix of emotions.

I strain my eyes to look for any discrepancies on her skin. The lighting sets a mood that makes me question if this is appropriate right now. Shaking off that thought, I flick on the switch, and the lights awake with a brightness that sends the darkness scrambling for cover.

Valentina frowns and closes her eyes, slowly opening them to look at me. Her gaze meets mine, and my eyes land on the bruise on her arm. Anger surges through me, not even giving me the decency of a slow approach. I breathe in deeply, trying to rein it in, but I can only stare as she moves to cover it up. She pauses mid-air upon seeing my reaction and lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Are there more?” My voice comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“No,” she says, looking away from me.

“Don't lie to me.”

“One more,” she admits, exhaustion evident in her tone.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath as she pushes the hair away from her face. A nasty bruise mars her temple. I suck in a breath, struggling to control the storm inside me. The cruel man I fear becoming for her sake is clawing his way to the surface. The sight of those bruises solidifies my resolve; I will become whatever is necessary to keep her safe.

I pull her close, feeling her body tremble against mine. Her sobs rip through the tension, a raw outpouring of emotion that tears at my heart. Doubt creeps in—am I doing the right thing by keeping her by my side? Before I can dwell further, she clings to me desperately, burrowing her face into my chest. Her arms wrap tightly around me, as if afraid I might disappear. She molds herself against me, our bodies seamlessly intertwined. I can’t tell where I end and she begins. Tears stream down her face, and I wipe them away, my calloused hands gentle against her soft skin.

Valentina cries as she holds on to me—her lover, her protector. Yet in this moment, I feel like I've failed her utterly. She's alive and in my arms but marked by the violence of this life I've dragged her into.

Protecting her goes beyond just safeguarding her body. I need to protect her spirit, her light—everything that makes her who she is. Seeing her so broken in front of me is a visceral blow. She shouldn’t bear these bruises, this pain. I have to find a way to make it right, to give her the life she deserves, even if it means...

I notice the air shift between us. Valentina no longer clings to me solely for safety and comfort—there's a new hunger in her eyes that beckons me closer. Her lips part invitingly as she rises up on her tiptoes, pulling me down to meet her. For a brief moment, I hesitate, wondering if this is wise after the trauma we've endured. But then her soft, salty lips meet mine, and all rational thought escapes me.

She takes full control, deepening the kiss with a low, throaty moan that sends desire coursing through me. My mind goes blissfully blank as I surrender to her passionate embrace, returning her fervent kisses with equal ardor. In that moment, she is alive and safe in my arms, and I need to lose myself in her warmth, in this connection that tethers us together despite the turmoil around us.

Valentina threads her fingers through my damp hair, her kisses growing more urgent as her tongue dances with mine. She pulls me flush against her body until there is no space left between us. My towel does little to conceal my arousal straining against the fabric as she sucks on my tongue, eliciting a guttural groan from deep within me.

When I try to step back, to regain some semblance of control, she simply follows, refusing to let any distance come between us. Her need matches my own. I tangle my fingers in her silken tresses and gently tug, coaxing her tongue to unravel from mine so I can gaze upon her flushed face and the inviting curve of her neck.

Her pulse races just beneath the surface of her delicate skin, a hypnotic reminder of the life that flows through her veins. I lower my mouth to her throat, nipping and tasting that thrumming vitality. Valentina clutches at my shoulders, surrendering to my attentions as I worship the precious proof of her existence. In this moment, I've never felt more alive myself.

I'm only brought back from my haze when her grip on my shoulders tightens, almost causing pain to my already exhausted body. Somehow, I've gained strength for her, for this moment. I rub my nose against her neck and then up to her ear, inhaling the scent of her soft skin. It isn’t the scent I've become used to. It's a feminine scent; her scent. My eyes are closed when I lift my head, but I’m not prepared to see her crying again when I open them.

“Why are you still crying?” I ask, bewildered.

“I don’t know really. It’s a mixture of things,” she replies, sliding her hands down to my chest.

I close my eyes again. “Things?” is all I can muster to ask. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to turn off being turned on and just try to listen to her. Her hands are a distraction, and with the day I’m having, I’m too tired for mixed signals. I grab her hands and hold them in my own. “What things?”

“I... I...” she frowns down at my chest and tries to get her words to form. A look of confusion consumes her features, and she does that silly thing with her top lip. She slightly bites down on it, not knowing that it drives me mad. Or does she know? I narrow my eyes at her but soften my features when I lift her face up to me.

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