Page 101 of When Night Falls

"Do you want to help me with the last one?" he asks, and I pull my bottom lip into my teeth and bite, feeling so frenzied by the innocent offer. I nod and sit up; he watches as my heavy breasts move with my body.

I reach out and skate my shaky fingers over his own before he moves his hands out of the way for me to finish undressing him.

I push the button through the last hole and look down between us as a small gasp escapes me before I peel the material from his lower abdomen.

I look up at his body, riddled with tiny little scars and ridges of muscles begging to be explored.

I bring my eyes to his, I can see the torment buried deep inside.

I analyze the scars over his abs, then up to his chest. Some little, some bigger. Some have faded into the layers of his skin only leaving a little trace of the foul play he's endured.

I ask him with my eyes for silent permission to let me touch him and he nods his approval.

I use the pads of my fingers to gently roam over the divots and edges of something that looks like cigarette burns on his chest. Then another that looks like a gash of a knife right below the cages of his heart. There’s more healed-over wounds sprinkled around his rib cage and along the collar bone on his right side.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, feeling angry and saddened that someone could inflict this kind of pain onto someone. These had to have happened before he became a vampire, because then they wouldn't be visibly prevalent, having healed to no proof of existence.

He reaches down, still standing in front of me as I sit on the bed. His fingers start a trail from the top of my head, sweeping across my hair and brushing it behind my ear before he travels over to my own scar, and I feel the attack of butterflies fluttering against my core. I dip my head into his palm as he caresses my cheek and I savor the way this moment lingers between us.

His hand on my scar. My hands on his. It's like the tether of our souls is bound by more than just a law of lore but a tie of trauma and yearning. Yearning to be seen and longing to feel the impulse of needing retribution for the scars we wear like second skin. We are made to be one.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I do feel the need to enact revenge and maybe his secrets reflect the same truth. But my biggest monster has already been slayed by the man who looks at me like I can save him, however that may be. And maybe his monster has yet to be slayed. Maybe there's more beneath the surface of bloodlust and scarred flesh. Maybe his secrets are what he holds tight to his chest, the ones that welcome the beautiful edges of betrayal scattered along his body.

"The same figure in your life who did this to you," he trails his finger along the jagged yet smooth edges of my scar, making sure I feel every small movement against it before he continues. He moves his fingers from my face and presses his palm againstmy own fingers, making me dig deeper into one of the cigarette burns along his chest. "Is the same person in my life who did this to me."

Realization thrashes through me, hatred burning for my husband's offender.

"Your father," I breathe.

He takes two fingers, placing them under my chin and lifting me to look up at him.

"But I don't want to talk about that right now, Lucynda. Right now, I want to focus on all the ways I am going to make you irrevocably mine."

Agony wracks me as I think about his promise to not love me. But then I remember the torment he freed me of, the memory that held me hostage to a lifelong belief of being incapable of deserving more than the pain that was inflicted on me. Though nonetheless, I'm conflicted because while he may not desire to fight for a scenario where he opens himself up to express love for me, I am deeply falling for him.

Rivian undoes the belt and button of his pants, lowering them down while kicking off his shoes.

We're both left in nothing but our underwear and pleasure surges through me knowing that he's going to make good on his promise. He's going to make me his.

I scoot back over toward the top of the bed where I lay back, my head gently hitting the pillow and my chest rising and falling in anticipation of what comes next.

Rivian finds his way on top of me, placing his knees on either side of my thighs and his hands press into the pillow near my head. He's overwhelmingly close, and a flood of lecherous trepidation rushes through my veins.

He lowers his head and presses his lips against my own. A soft kiss presents itself, his lips feathering over mine in a gentle dance of adoration. He's going to be gentle and though I love theidea of being rough and raw with him, I need him to take his time.

"Have you taken the pills Troy gave you?" he asks and I know he's not concerned about me trapping him into pregnancy, but rather to ensure that I've been responsible withourfuture.

I nod, a simple response as I can't seem to form words for the life of me. My heart is racing so fast I'm afraid it'll fall from my mouth.

"Touch yourself," he demands. His tone is a little darker, likely due to the nature of our position.

Panic seizes in me because the look in his eyes as he pulls back a little is something slightly nefarious.

"I know you've done it before. You thought you played me like a fiddle when you lied to me about never having touched yourself, didn't you, little one?" A grin pulls on his full lips and my heart skips a beat. "You forget, I've been watching you in the shadows far longer than you knew your own shadow existed."

He doesn't mean my shadow literally. He's referring to himself as my shadow.

"Show me where you ache, little one. So I know where to make it better for you." He presses another kiss to the side of my mouth before trailing his lips across my chin, then down to my neck.

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