Thirty-Six
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Cally stood before him in his room, her knees trembling as if they meant to fold in penance.
“For what,ma chérie?” Antoine had his fingers stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, the way he always did, cording his forearms. His T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders. “Going off alone on revenge? Not telling me about Darian?Lyingto me?”
Cally flinched at the lack of anger in his tone. “All of that, yes. But the goddamn bond scares me the most. Darian said I couldcontrolyou. I wanted you to come, and you came… but I didn’t do it deliberately, I swear!”
“Yes, the bond.” He drew a slow breath and sighed. “It is… unexpected.”
“I hate it!” she declared, her chin coming up.
He raised an eyebrow. “You do? You would prefer we were not bonded?”
“No, that’s not what I—” She chewed her lip. “I love you. OfcourseI want to be bonded to you. It’s the control thing I hate. No one should be…” She couldn’t voice it again. That horrible, utter control.
“What,ma chérie? Bound against their will to another?”
“Yes, exactly! Oh God, Antoine, I’m so sorry.”
“Like a marked chattel, perhaps?” he said, wry resignation softening his features as he watched her with a gentleness she didn’t feel she deserved.
She blinked as his words sank in. There was a parallel, but… “It’s not the same.” She hunched inward. “It’s… so much worse.”
“Why? Because I did it deliberately, and you didn’t?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I—” She caught his teasing tone, and stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not… angry?”
“A little.” His gaze sharpened. “Half of me wants to bend you over the bed and spank your ass, but the other half wants to take you into the bathroom and clean the blood off your skin.”
She shivered at the images his words conjured. “Either works.”
His lips curled in amusement. “You won’t forgive yourself, will you? But I forgive you,ma chérie.”
“I’ll never lie to you again,” she vowed, stressing every word.
“I know.” He held her gaze. “Let me confirm. Did you not tell me about the Order because you thought I would seek them out?”
“Yes, exactly. I couldn’t bear the thought of you taking them on and getting hurt.”
“And because I wasn’t quite myself?”
She hesitated too long, unable to deny it. “You’d only just got back,” she said instead. “It’s still only been a week.”
“So you lied to protect me.”
She squirmed, hating the excuse. “It’s still not okay.”
“True. But it is a reason.”
“I’m sorry, Antoine. I have no justification. I should’ve trusted you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” He reached for her hand, tugging her gently with him as he walked backward toward the en suite. “Come. I don’t want to smell that blood on you any longer.”
She let him lead her into the bathroom, then sat where he put her on the edge of the tub. He filled the sink with warm water, wet a washcloth, then knelt before her and dabbed carefully at her face. His touch was gentle, his focus unwavering.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, as he wiped dried blood from her injured cheek.
“A little, but it’s healing already.” She worried at her lip. “Do I look different?”
