Page 48 of Into the Fire


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He tookhis time washing her in the shower, submitted to her ministrations with the same patience. Something had shifted in her since he’d told her about Primo’s involvement in her kidnapping — and not in the direction he’dexpected.

He’d thought she would be angry at him for lying to her, for keeping Primo’s involvement from her. He hadn’t expected the anger to be short-lived, hadn’t expected her to emerge from the isolation of her walk in the city somehow standingtaller.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. She was every bit the warrior he’d suspected her of being when he’d first seen her at Velvet. She’d proven it when she’d left New York with him, when she’d survived two months at the hands of Anastos andhismen.

But this had been the most concrete proofofall.

The decision to walk away from Primo couldn’t have been easy, but she made it look that way. She’d taken control of their lovemaking with a determination that had taken his breath away. She’d never been a shrinking violet in bed — her unselfconscious passion was one of the many things about her that turnedhimon.

And yet when they’d first come together in New York she’d been on the run from Primo and Malcolm. Italy had been bittersweet, melancholy running underneath their endless need for each other, the knowledge that they were still on opposite sides of the New York turf war undeniable even if they didn’t talk about itoutright.

He’d made love to her in Tuscany with all the fervor of a long imprisoned man finally free. And he had been imprisoned — imprisoned by his fear for her safety during the two months she’dbeengone.

Still, he’d been in charge in Tuscany. Her demand that he make her forget prompted him to take charge of her body, to leave no room for the thoughts he knew she was trying to keepatbay.

But this… this had been Aria in control, taking what she wanted and giving what she felt like giving, her demand that he concede to her power somehow both frustrating and thrilling as she’d taken him in her mouth, as she’d fucked him with the kind of calculating passion that told him she knew exactly what she was doing, that maybe she knew exactly what she was doing for the first time in alongtime.

Watching her come more fully into herself had been one of the most erotic experiences of his life, but she wasn’t going to distract him with her body. There was still something else that had to be resolved for them to be truly honest with each other, and he was determined not to put it offanotherday.

Fear was a cancer. It would eat you alive, make you weak andfoolish.

Aria wasn’t weak, and she was no fool, but she needed him to complete the process of leaving the past behind. Tonight they were going to finish allofit.

He turned off the shower and handed her a towel, then dried himself off while she did the same. She followed him naked into the bedroom. He sat back against the headboard and openedhisarms.

She seemed to hesitate, then scooted back on the bed and laid her head down on his chest, her hair damp against his skin. He pulled up the covers and settled his arms around her, wanting her tofeelsafe.

“Tell me,” he said, strokingherarm.

It took her a moment to begin. “I don’t remember a lot about that first night,” she said softly. “I was terrified, of course, mostly of being taken from you, and then after you were shot, of the possibility that youweredead.”

He kissed the top of her head and remained quiet. It was her story. It would hurt him to hear it, but she needed totellit.

“I almost didn't have a chance to be scared when we were rappelling off the terrace,” she said. “It happened so fast, and then they were dragging me into a boat and I knew they were going to take me far awayfromyou.”

His throat tightened. She kept coming back to that — to the fear that they would be separated. It had been the basest, most primitive of his fears when she’d disappeared from the terrace. Later, he’d felt selfish thinking it. All that mattered was that she was safe, and yet the deepest wound of all seemed to be that they’d torn her from his side. It had been a physical wound, the tearing asunder of hisveryself.

That she had felt the same way deeply moved him, allowed him to relinquish some of his residualshame.

“Then we were out on the water,” she continued. “They tied my hands behind my back and gave me something, some kind of drug, that made me sleep. When I woke up I was in the apartment in Athens, although I didn’t know it atthetime.”

“Did they tell you anything?” Damian asked. “Anything about what was going on outside the room they hadyouin?”

Isolation was a tactic used by torturers the world over. Keeping you in the dark, denying you the company of other human beings, making you lose track of the days and nights, it was all designed to break you, to loosen your hold on reality, and therefore your desire to fight back. Two months was a long time. He needed to know the magnitude of her isolation to gauge any damage that might havebeendone.

“Nothing,” she said. “They brought me food twice a day, let me use the bathroom twice a day. The only person who ever said more than a few words to me wasMalcolm.”

He controlled his desire to jump out of bed and pace thesuite.

Torage.

“What didhesay?”

She hesitated, and he had the feeling she was holding something back. But they wouldn’t get past it if they didn’t shine a light on all of it. It was only the monsters in the dark that couldhurtyou.

He smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay,mylove.”

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