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I don’t, though, because I suspect he already knows.
He carefully wraps the wound around my leg, his fingers grazing the inside of my thigh and igniting me with a different kind of heat than the subtle burn of my scrapes and bruises.
Still, I don’t say anything at all until he winces when he gets to the cuts on my knuckles.
“Sympathy for the murderer?” I ask.
“I told you, mercy is not a finite resource.” He inhales like he might say something else, but silence reigns once more.
“Mercy,” I barely breathe out the word, but it is still loud in the quiet space. I look from the fingers that are more holding my hands than cleaning them, to the turmoil in his deep brown eyes, the slight parting of lips that are suddenly so, so close to mine. “Is that all this is?”
“Gem—”
I move forward, my mouth pressing against his and cutting off the deception he was on the verge of unwittingly uttering. I can’t handle any more lies right now.
Or any more truths, for that matter.
But his lips soften against mine and I know that this, us… It’s neither lie nor truth, neither right nor wrong.
It exists on a plane separate from all of those things. It exists in this moment, in the feeling of his lips skating from mine down to my jaw, his fingers clenching around my thighs.
And I need more of it.
I lean into him fully, arching my back so his mouth can travel to my neck, my collarbone, and lower. Quick fingers untie the laces of my outer corset, and I’m not even sure if they’re mine or his, only that they are deftly removing every confining inch of fabric between us.
He brings his mouth back up to mine, a low growl emanating from him when I dart my tongue out to taste him. The hands that were so tender before grip my hips firmly, pulling me against him.
My skin is unnaturally hot, like the fire itself still rages within me, while Remy is cooler, more solid.
We are on opposite sides of every war imaginable, but right now, it feels like the melding of his skin against mine is the only thing that grounds me, the only thing that makes me feel real.
At least, until he stops.
I feel the moment he breaks our contact, backing away slowly. The laces of his shirt are open, and I fix my gaze on the several exposed inches of defined chest.
“Gemma.” His voice is soft, like he’s still afraid I might break if he speaks too loudly.
I don’t blame him. I feel that way, too.
“We can’t,” he says. “We shouldn’t do this again. Not tonight. Not when...” He trails off, piercing me with a probing stare. “What happened to you, Gemma? The fires, the slavers... is this about your friend? Did the slavers take her, too?”
I close my eyes, shaking my head against an onslaught of memories. “I don’t want to talk about her. I don’t want to talk about anything.”
“You never do.” He sighs, and there’s a deep sadness in the sound.
I still haven’t opened my eyes when I hear the sound of him getting to his feet. My hand darts out of its own accord, closing around his wrist.
“Stay.” The word is out before I can stop it.
I can’t remember ever asking anyone to stay when they wanted to leave. Not my father, who abandoned me when the responsibilities of parenting became too much. Not my sister, when I felt her slipping away.
Sure as hell not any man.
I pull my shirt back onto my shoulder from where it’s fallen askew, covering myself so he doesn’t think that’s what I’m asking for. I open my eyes and raise them to Remy’s, letting him see how much I need this.
How much I needhim.
“Why? When we both know how this ends?” The words come out a whisper.
Because I feel like I might cease to exist without you here to ground me right now. Because when you’re around, I almost feel like a person instead of a weapon, molded and honed into something sharp and deadly by the cruelest person I know.
I can’t seem to make myself come up with a reason that makes sense, even in my own head, so I just give him a small, rare bit of truth.
“Because everything ends, one way or another. But it doesn’t have to end like this.”
His head shakes, the barest fraction of an inch. I’m sure he’s going to walk away when he surprises me by sitting down next to me instead.
“All right. I’ll stay.”
