Page 72 of Untamed

“Does it hurt?” I ask, my voice quieter than I expect.

She sits up slowly, taking the glass from me and sipping it before answering. “Not really,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “Why do you look guilty?”

I nod toward her body, the marks on her skin and her still-disheveled state. “I just—seeing you like this. The welts, your hair…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Ember. Maybe I overdid it.”

Not that it would be the first time. I was in constant shit with Rafail when I was younger for pushing too hard, taking too many risks, not listening to?—

“God, no.” She blinks at me, then her smile turns into something brighter, more playful. “Overdid it? Rodion, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She leans closer, her voice soft but firm. “You didn’t overdo anything. It was perfect. All of it.” Her eyelids flutter closed as if she’s still half-asleep.

I listen as her words sink in, cutting through the unease settling in my chest, and I let out a breath. “Good,” I murmur, brushing her wild hair back from her face. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

She grins, but when her smile falters, I see a glimpse of something darker in her expression, enough to make me pause.

“What is it?” I ask, my voice sharper now.

She shakes her head, but I catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” I say, shifting so I’m kneeling on the bed in front of her, forcing her to look at me. “You were afraid tonight, Ember. I didn’t expect that. Why were you afraid when I took you? I mean, I expected a little fear, but I thought you’d know right away…”

Her breath catches, her throat working around a word she doesn’t want to say. Finally, she nods.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “For a second, I thought… I thought it might be him. You know.”

The rage that surges in my chest is instant and white-hot, but I keep it contained, letting it simmer under my skin. “And now?” I ask.

She swallows hard, her eyes glinting with something like guilt. “Now I’m just afraid you’ll think you went too far.” But when she looks away, there’s sadness in her gaze.

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay still. “I hate that you thought it was him. I hate he’s in your head. This is what fucking sucks about people like him,” I say, my voice low and rough. “They make the victim think it was their fault. Like they should be afraid of justice instead of him.”

Her lips press together, and I see the tears gathering in her eyes, though she blinks them away before they can fall.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” I say after a moment. “But you’re going to tell me. You’re not carrying this alone anymore,Ember.” I give her a long look. “And I want you to admit there’s nothing ‘fake’ about the two of us anymore.”

She nods as her eyes light up, her fingers brushing mine, and the connection feels fragile yet solid enough to hold.

I stand, moving toward the fireplace. I stoke the fire to keep it warm.

“That’s some delicious caveman porn, watching you tend a fire.”

I give her a half smile and shake my head. “Is there anything you don’t fantasize about?”

“Uhm. Amish romance. Vanilla sex?”

My shoulders shake with laughter.

“I’m sorry I don’t cook, but I brought marshmallows. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

She laughs, the sound like a spark of light in the heavy quiet. “Marshmallows for dinner?”

“You’re lucky I brought those,” I tease, grabbing the bag.

She pulls on one of my shirts, the oversized fabric swallowing her, and pads barefoot to the kitchenette.

Fuck, that’s a sight I’d give anything to see daily.

“I missed you today,” she says over her shoulder, not looking at me. I wonder if she can admit it to my face. The words hit me harder than they should. She didn’t say it like it was a casual comment. There’s weight in her tone, a confession she’s not ready to meet me head-on with.

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