Page 62 of Of Daggers and Deceit

Instead, I watched as he stripped off his dirty suit and threw it on the floor, stepping forward to the shower door. My heart rate seemed to kick up. His hand gripped the handle. I held my breath as he pulled open the shower door and stepped inside, no cloudy glass between us.

I swallowed painfully and backed up, using my hands to provide coverage for the second time tonight as he moved towards me at a slow, languid pace. I tipped my head down again, feeling the energy in the room shift, as if he could sense my distress before he’d seen it.

The stream of frigid water beat against his skin, the orange dirt and sand cascading in rivulets down his calves to pool on the floor beneath our feet, escaping in a swirl down the drain. My eyes tracked the whirl of colour, afraid to look up at him, knowing he would see right through me.

Gentle fingers brushed against my cheek, and I closed my eyes at the wonder of his warmth.

“Raya,” he said, his voice soft and searching. My eyes squeezed tighter, instead content to feel the caress of his calloused fingers along my skin. Even now, with the briefest of touches, I’d never felt so delicately held. I’d wasted so much time not seeking more of that when this city was never going to be gentle or kind.

My stomach tightened. I’d been so stupid.

Why had I tried to force space between us when there was so little that was genuine in the Haven? I’d been fighting against feelings for him that I couldn’t seem to erase.

Tomorrow was not guaranteed. I didn’t want to be someone who didn’t pursue something they wanted out of fear.

His fingers brushed across my lips, careful and soft.

He had always been so perfect. So perfect. Everything I was not.

Murderer. Failure.

My hands shook, the cool air from the stream of cold water physically overwhelming what little heat had been held in the room. The glass was entirely clear now.

“Raya, look at me,” he commanded, though it was as soft and tired as I felt.

I didn’t want to talk, not about tonight or tomorrow or the next days after that. I only wanted to feel something better than the horrible emotions inside of me.

So, in a move shocking to me, I stepped into his warmth, seeking it, craving it as his arms instinctively wrapped around my shaking limbs. His cheek rested against my head as he held me, the water warming after he’d reached across to turn up the heat so we could stay in each other’s arms for that little bit longer. I squeezed him tighter.

I’m glad you’re alive, I wanted to say. I hope I’m not too late.

Bodhi took the opportunity to care for me whilst we stood there in silence, choosing to wash my hair and body.

With every swipe of the soap against my skin, he rid me of the desert and all its terrors, including the putrid stench of the Benefactor, which seemed to cling to my skin. Then once, twice, he caressed my skin with his, washing the soap away, and I sucked in his beautiful scent greedily as he worked, using it to ground me.

His hands brushed down the sides of my arms until his wrinkled fingers met mine with a squeeze, an encouragement for me to look at him.

This time, I did, blinking away the water that had pooled on my lashes. He smiled big and bright, and somehow, I managed to mirror it.

Before I could utter a simple thank you, he dipped his head lower towards me catching me unexpectedly as he merged his lips with mine in a movement so brief, I almost second guessed it had happened. He pulled away and swept my legs out from under me with his arms, forcing me to grab onto his chest as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He snatched two towels on the way out and opened the door to walk out into the living area, both of us dripping and naked.

“Bodhi,” I blurted, my cheeks flushed as I peered around the room, panicked that one of the others had returned and would see us.

He laughed warmly, jerking my wide eyes back towards him. My lips quirked at the joy on his face, and for a single moment, I forgot that tonight had even happened, seeming more like a strange dream. A lightness kindled to life inside me again the longer I stared at him. Out of everything he excelled at, bringing joy was his superpower, I was sure of it.

He toed the door open to a bedroom and placed me down on my feet in the darkness, smothering me in a towel before wiping me down. I stood still as he dried my hair and brushed it out then found my pyjamas and held them out to me so I could put them on. When I lifted my head again, he’d already thrown some shorts on and had pulled back the covers from the bed before taking my hand and leading me over towards it, encouraging me to climb in, pulling the covers back up and tucking them tight around me.

I didn’t entirely know what this was about, but I liked it. It was more than I deserved after all the times I had denied him.

It was gratitude that made my eyes glassy as he stepped away from me. Not once had he pushed me to tell him what happened; not once had he mentioned anything he had endured tonight.

I was so stuck in my own head that I hadn’t even realised he’d already made it to the door. The lightness inside me dwindled, that familiar coldness creeping in again as I watched him grip the handle, this time to leave.

I swallowed, readying myself to voice my needs. Don’t go.

But then, his voice swept across the space like silk against skin, comforting. “I will stay if you ask it of me.”

His words remained unanswered in the dark as I tried to orient my thoughts. So much had happened tonight, but very little had been in my control. I was desperate to claw it back, and this was something I could choose, for myself and the life I wanted.

---