Page 58 of Kept to Kill
She was gone before Lily could thank her, but she was grateful the woman had left her alone. She sat gingerly on the bed, winced and got up again. Bastian had brought her their salve this morning, but her backside was still bruised and sore, the raised welts she felt this morning sensitive and throbbing after their ride.
There was a tentative knock on the door and a boy of no more than twelve, Jona, she presumed, shuffled in slowly when she opened it, carrying a large steaming jug in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other.
He left quickly, not saying much and seeming to be embarrassed in her presence if his flaming red face was anything to go by. When she’d made sure the door was closed behind him, she took off her clothes and washed the grime of travel from her skin, hissing as she pressed the hot cloth onto her arse cheeks, though the heat did at least loosen her saddle-sore muscles some.
She turned to don the clothes the boy had left and shrieked loudly as she caught sight of Mal leaning on the wall, watching her with a detached expression. She grabbed the dress and clasped it to her chest with a gasp, glowering at him.
‘Can’t you fucking knock?’ she asked angrily.
He took a step closer and she stood her ground, furious that she couldn’t even have a moment without one of them appearing to watch her or to touch her or tobeather.
Then he reached her, his arms came out slowly, and he touched her shoulders tentatively. He turned her gently – so he could look at the marks Quin had made, she realized belatedly. She made a sound of anguish, trying to twist away so he couldn’t see, but he wouldn’t let her go. She could feel his eyes on her and she looked away from him, feeling so pathetic, so ashamed that he could see what she was.
She tensed, afraid he would use her injuries to hurt her further. That was what he did, after all; he hurt her and she liked it. Except she didn’t think she would at the moment, and even if she didn’t like it, she was afraid he wouldn’t care, that he’d do it anyway because he could, because that was what Dark Brothers did. She’d simply forgotten.
But he didn’t grab her or stroke her or even touch her. He just looked, and when he was finished looking, he turned her back to face him slowly. He lifted her chin to look into her face and the anger she saw in his made her recoil.
Noting her reaction, his face softened. ‘Won’t let him do that again,’ he said quietly, brushing his fingers over her cheek in a caress that, she was ashamed to say, had her leaning into him despite what he was.
He produced one of those pots they always seemed to have from his pocket and nudged her towards the bed. She went without a fight, letting him lay her down on her front. She gasped as she felt the cool balm on her skin as he applied it, being more gentle than she’d ever known him to be, than she’d ever expected him to be with her. She closed her eyes as the lids became heavy, his ministrations lulling her almost to sleep. Almost.
When his hand left her, she opened her eyes drowsily to find him sitting next to her, just watching her with a strange look upon his face, a calmness she hadn’t seen before.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘Last night—’ he began and she turned away in shame, curling into a ball with her back to him.
But he carefully pulled her back. ‘My father had me beaten many times.’
She looked up at Mal, wondering at the kind of monster his father had been. But she let him continue, afraid he’d stop if she said anything or looked at him in pity.
‘I know the shame of being broken.’
He picked her up in his arms and cuddled her. She gaped at him. She’d never have expected him to do this, not even in one of her fevered dreams after she killed.
‘Quin didn’t breakyou.’ Mal smirked. ‘You’re strong.’
She looked down. ‘But you saw …’
‘Hush,’ he said quietly, gripping her chin gently and making her look at him again.
‘Perhaps we’re all broken,’ she whispered, heaving a great sigh.
She leaned her head on his chest, listening to his heart. Until just now, she wouldn’t have believed he had one, but he did. He wasn’t deceiving her. At least she didn’t think he was. Besides, what would be the point, she mused. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled his head down, hesitating for just a moment as his eyes widened as if he didn’t quite understand what she was doing.
She put her lips to his gently, savoring their softness against her own. They were different from Quin’s, but she liked doing this very much. This was one of the things she’d always wondered about ever since she’d seen two servants embracing in the square from her window once. They’d looked so happy.
She could have done it if she’d wanted, she reasoned. Killing men with kisses did sound wonderfully dramatic. However, most of Vineri’s enemies had been the unsavory sort of characters a girl didn’t want to kiss at the best of times.
To her surprise, Mal didn’t seem very adept at it either. She drew back just enough to look into his eyes, which were open and watching her intently as usual.
‘First one?’
He nodded hesitantly and she gave a small grin.
He didn’t smile back, but his eyes were warmer than she’d ever seen them as he bridged the gap between them and put his lips back on hers. His tongue licked her lips and she drew in a sharp breath that had him invading her mouth shallowly. She met his tongue with hers, touched it and drew back with a laugh that bordered on embarrassment.
‘I thought you hadn’t done this before,’ she said, feeling shy.
