Page 124 of Deadwood
“You’re hurt,” I ground out, my hand moving on its own accord to brush over the blue and purple galaxy already painting her side.
She let out a small, breathy laugh, but winced as she regretted it. “I didn’t think it was a secret that I was.”
But this was worse. Her ribs could be broken. Shattered.
I’d fucking destroy them for touching her.
“Maybe a bath would be better,” I muttered.
She shook her head, her cold hand coming up to wrap around my wrist. “You can help me.”
My eyes shot to hers.
Gods,what was she doing?
“I’d have to get in,” I explained.
“Okay.” She said it so easily, like that was exactly what she wanted.
Pulling myself out of my stupor, I helped her step into the shower and went to follow after her when she paused, eying my shirt under my jacket. “You don’t need to be shy.”
Even in her battered state, she was making me lose my mind.
“Auria…” The warning was evident in my tone. She was dancing along a line thinner than parchment, knowing damn well it’d never hold up.
Rather than responding, she stepped under the spray of water, mud instantly washing into the drain as the drops warmed her skin and trailed between her breasts. She was a goddess, and I’d do her bidding. Whatever it was—Auria had ensnared me.
I wasted no time shucking my damp clothes to the ground, leaving all of me bare, and stepped into the shower with her. The hot water sprayed off of her, misting me where I stood in front of her. I grabbed the bar of soap from the small shelf on the wall while she ran her face under the water. Foolishly, I was almost jealous of the droplets as they cascaded down the curve of her jaw, streaming down her neck to disappear beneath her breasts. Unable to help myself, I began to run the bar of soap along her collarbone, watching the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
With the mud washing away, fresh bruises exposed themselves, littering the delicate skin of her neck. My vision nearly went red as the natural instinct to end those who had done this surged through me.
Her eyes, lit like the forest trees in the midday sun, found mine. That look alone thawed me, stealing my attention once more. I trailed the bar lower, over one breast, then the other. Once they were both coated and glistening, I moved down to her stomach, my gaze following the trace of the suds as they bubbled over her skin. My other hand found her waist on its own accord, my fingers tracing over the deepening bruise on her side. The absence of dirt and grime revealed what broke me inside—her pain.
While I practically worshiped her body with the bar of soap, she watched me. If she was looking for anything other than pure awe, she wouldn’t find it. She was the embodiment of beauty.
Bringing the soap back up, I ran it along her cheeks, ridding her skin of the mud that once coated it. Her face, so close to mine, reddened slightly, but I excused it for the hot water. I cupped her head at the base with my free hand, and once her eyelids fluttered closed, I tilted her head back to wash the suds away.
This entire moment was far too much, even for me, but I couldn’t step away. I’d wither away to a prune if it meant I got to stay in this shower with her, blocking out the world and any outside forces telling me I shouldn’t go further with her. And yet…
I stepped behind her, gently wrapping my hand around her hair to lift it off her neck, revealing her back. As soon as my eyes traveled down, everything within me froze. Her skin was littered in scars, old and new. It felt as if my breath had been stolen away and locked somewhere I’d never find it again. Auria had that effect on me all too often, but this time, it was with torture.
“You have scars,” I gritted out.
The slightest fall of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, and I knew shame and embarrassment had filled her.
“Bet you didn’t think a princess like me would have those,” she murmured quietly. She threw the nickname at me like quiet venom, and I wanted to rip my own tongue out for ever using it in such a way.
“Not that you would, but that you shouldn’t. Who gave you these?”
While I waited for her to respond, I ran the soap through her hair, doing my best to gently untangle the strands. Minutes passed, and I couldn’t remain quiet any longer. “Auria.”
“Not my father,” she answered, though it didn’t tell mewho.
The smoke from the sconce in the corner swirled with the mist fogging the room, sensing my magic building to its breaking point.
“He leaves a different sort of pain,” she admitted, her voice too frail and vulnerable for my liking. If I didn’t leave and get this out now, the room would be nothing but ruins. I needed a release, and fast.
I set the bar of soap back on the shelf. The familiar gray streaks were crawling up my veins all too quickly. Against my better judgment, I left her standing under the spray as I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rod. With too much force, I wrapped it around my waist, nearly tearing the fabric.
