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“Knife?” I asked softly.
Cain nodded against me. “Butcher knife,” he whispered, his voice harsh.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.
“No,” he said and I stilled when he brushed a kiss over my mouth and let his eyes connect with mine. “Don’t stop.”
I took my time exploring his muscled chest and abdomen. Scar after scar met my seeking hands.
“Will you take this off?” I asked gently as I tugged on the hem of his shirt.
He sucked in a breath and I knew, just knew that what I was asking was something monumental. “I’ve got you, Cain,” I whispered.
Cain closed his eyes and nodded just before he reached behind him with one arm and tugged the shirt off. I kept my eyes on him for the longest time before I finally looked down. Twelve scars mottled his entire torso.
“My back,” he murmured.
I reached behind him to explore his back and felt three more scars. “Fifteen,” I said quietly.
“That’s how old I was,” Cain responded. “He used our ages to decide how many times to stab us.”
Nausea crawled through my belly.
“Us?” I whispered.
“Me, my brothers, my sisters.” He fell silent for a moment before saying, “Hailey, nine, Daniel, six, Justin, three and Amanda…one.”
I slid my hands up to his shoulders and then to his face until I was cupping his cheeks. “Who?” I asked. “Who did this?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still closed and I could feel a fine tremor filtering throughout his body. “My father,” he finally admitted.
Horror went through me, but I managed to keep from crying out my distress. I lifted enough so I could brush my mouth over his. I kissed him over and over again, telling him I was sorry between kisses. When his mouth finally opened beneath mine, I let my tongue slip between his lips and gently explored every part of his mouth. When my arms went around his shoulders, he let out his breath and pulled his mouth from mine. He crushed me in a bruising hold as he held onto me. “I’m not ready for more,” he admitted against my neck.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Whatever you want.”
“I want to hold you.”
I nodded because I couldn’t find the words to go with the emotion that clogged my throat. Cain released me long enough to lead me to one of the two beds in the room. He worked the covers back and then toed his shoes off after removing a gun and holster from his ankle. I took my own shoes off and waited.
“Your shirt,” he said softly.
Although I wasn’t thrilled for him to see me with all the bruises that still covered my body, I didn’t hesitate to remove my shirt. He took my hand and urged me into bed. I lay down so I was facing away from him. I didn’t move when I felt him slide against my back, his skin brushing mine. His arm curled around my waist and he worked the other beneath my head. I took a risk and pulled the hand he had at my waist higher across my chest and covered it with mine. I used my other hand to reach up and twine my fingers with the fingers near my head.
Cain didn’t speak, nor did he try to move away from my touch at all.
We just lay there like that for what seemed like hours before I felt his breath on the back of my neck even out and I knew he was asleep.
But I couldn’t relax enough to let my eyes close. Not when I could feel so many ridges of marred skin against my back. So I wept silently for Cain and I held on as tight as I could to the parts of him he would let me touch.
* * *
It was dark outside when I woke up and I knew instantly that Cain was no longer at my back. An unreasonable fear went through me that he’d left me, but as soon as I sat up, I saw him sitting at the small table by the window. Like in my brother’s guest room, his eyes were on me.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost nine,” he said. “I ordered us some food. It’s not safe for us to go out to eat somewhere.”
I nodded. He’d closed the outer curtains so the room was dark except for the light just above where he was sitting. I reached for the light next to the bed and turned it on. I felt weird without my shirt considering Cain was once again fully dressed. I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and searched the floor, but my shirt was gone.
“On the bed,” Cain said softly. I glanced to the foot of the bed and saw my shirt neatly laying across it. I tugged it on. The air was awkward between us and as much as I wanted to talk about what had happened between us this afternoon, I couldn’t make myself speak the words.
