Page 82 of Seek Me Darling

But Ididn’t.

And I’m not sure if it’s because I couldn’t find the right moment—

Or because part of medidn’t want out.

Rule leans down just slightly, his breath ghosting the shell of my ear.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

And I swear to God, if I weren’t still trembling from everything he had done to me—I’d punch him in the fucking throat.

Chapter 31

Seanna

Idon’tneedhelpwalking.

Try telling that to Rule—who lifts me off the counter like I’m some broken doll and carries me toward the shower as if I didn’t just survive being hunted through a goddamn trap-laced forest and fucked into the soil like a prize-winning mare.

“Put me down,” I growl, shoving weakly at his chest. “I’m not glass.”

“No,” he agrees calmly, stepping into the bathroom with that maddening steadiness of his. “But you’re bleeding and dehydrated. So for once, try not being so fucking strong.”

That shouldn’t make my breath catch.

It shouldn’t make something ugly twist in my chest either.

But it does.

The bastard sets me down carefully in the oversized shower stall, the tiles cold against my feet, steam already curling around us in lazy spirals. Then he steps back, but not far. Just enough to lean against the wall on the other side of the glass and cross his arms, black mask fixed on my naked body like I’m a specimen in his private collection.

I glare at him. “You’re not staying.”

“You want to fall face-first into ceramic and bleed out?” he asks mildly. “Didn’t think so.”

Arrogant son of a—

I step under the water.

And I let it hit me—hot and unrelenting. It stings against the welts, the shallow cuts, the bruises that are already blooming purple across my thighs and ribs. But I stand there anyway, fists clenched at my sides, trying not to collapse under the heat or his gaze.

I don’t ask him to leave again.

Because I know he won’t.

Because a small, sick part of me doesn’t want him to.

I grab the soap and start scrubbing, harder than I need to. Like maybe I can scrape off the layers of Rule and Ruin still clinging to my skin. But no matter how raw I make myself, I still feel them there. Their hands. Their voices. Their fucking breath in my ear.

When I’m finished, I shut the water off and step out, dripping wet and exhausted.

Rule’s already waiting with a towel.Of course he is.

I snatch it from him—but his hand doesn’t let go. He holds it firm.

“Let me,” he says, quieter now. “Just this once.”

I want to scream at him. Tell him to fuck off. That I’m not his pet, not his responsibility, not his anything.

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