Page 63 of The Dark Rising
“I need to clean up,” I murmur against him. Ignoring what he said. I can’t make myself regret what we did, not with how relaxed I feel after so long, but I need to wash up.
“No,” he says, guiding my head to his neck and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself. His heart pounds against mine as I lay on top of him, and he runs his fingers over my back. Up and down, up and down. Sometimes he goes in a diagonal move, starting from the top to the bottom, sometimes his fingers trail in a straight line, sometimes he only moves them half way down my back until he goes to the top again.
My mind is in a content haze as I sigh and relax on top of him, letting his touch soothe me. He makes quiet sounds as he strokes over my skin, like it’s settling him too. His other hand comes to the back of my head and he runs his fingers through my tangled hair, carefully getting out all the knots whilst still moving over my back with his other hand.
It isn’t until I’m in a half asleep state that I begin to realize that his fingers on my back aren’t just mindlessly moving. There’s a pattern to them, to the trail they make over my skin like in the bathroom. It’s meticulous, a constant pressure that’s gentle, but knowing.
He’s following the pattern of scars that he put on my back from when he whipped me.
Twenty Four
Rhea
Iwaketoanempty room as I stretch out my muscles. I glance around for any signs of Darius and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t find him. I shuffle on the bed, and then grimace as I remember the dried cum I still have on me from last night.
I’m not sure how to feel about what we did. It gave me some peace for a little while, it made everything stop for a moment. But Darius won’t even acknowledge what he did to me, yet he can trail his finger so softly over each scar that he gave me without even seeing them. How can he trace something that’s hidden? And why?
I can’t get a read on him and that’s even more frustrating and confusing. What does he want with me?
We are inevitable, yet we both don’t want this connection. But that tether that ties us together is frayed, and the best thing to do is snap it completely. I just need to find out how.
I ignore how my stomach turns at the thought.
I lift the furs covering me and place my feet on the cool floor. I’m about to get up when a shock of blue freezes me and my eyes widen. Barely breathing, I lift a shaky hand toward the tall glass on the table beside the bed, and stroke my fingers over the blue petals that darken at the ends.
They are just how I remember them. Beautiful and wild, and the sweet smell they give off is so distinct, you can’t mimic it.
A door opens behind me but I don’t turn, my eyes completely glued to the flower I haven’t seen in so many years, that it brings tears to my eyes.
“How?” I eventually whisper, my voice cracking as I hear him coming closer.
“It was around,” Darius says, his tone bored.
My head whips around to him standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes guarded as he looks at the flower and then to me. “Why put it there?”
He shrugs. “I just did, Rhea. Don’t think too much about it.” He looks away from me and moves toward the bathroom. His t-shirt stretches over his back, and the jeans he wears hug his ass and legs. It’s hard for me to move my eyes away.
Don’t think too much about it?
I look back at the flower and run my fingers over the glass, mesmerized by their color.
How can I not think much about it when this flower signifies my happy childhood, my mom.
My favorite flower.
But he can’t know that it is, I haven’t told him that.
Darius opens the bathroom door and I scramble after him, pausing as I realize I’m naked and grab a fur pelt off the bed to wrap it around me. Entering the bathroom, he turns a tap and starts to fill the copper tub before grabbing something off the shelf and pouring it into the water, turning it a light pink. He then dips his fingers into it before going to the taps, adjusting the speed of each one before swirling the water around.
I watch on, my brow furrowed at his attention and wonder why he always makes baths for me daily.
I clear my throat. “What are you doing?”
His stare is blank as he looks at the water and then back to me. “Drawing a bath. I would think that is obvious, little wolf.”
“Har fucking har. I can clearly see that, but why are you adding stuff and checking the temperature? You have done this every day.” But still he always checks.
A dark, raised eyebrow is all I get in return before he turns off the taps and stalks toward me. I back up, clutching the fur to my chest and my back hits the wall. Darius stops in front of me, eyes trailing down until he reaches my bare feet. He tilts his head at them, running his thumb over his bottom lip.
