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She shakes her head against my chest, but she doesn’t respond and I don’t know how to make her tell me what happened. Because I need to know, there’s no chance I’m letting her out of his room without some answers, and even then the chances are getting dicier by the second. This is the only place I can keep her safe, and if it’s the difference between her being safe and hating me, or free and dying, I’m going to take the former every single time.
“Do your siblings know about this?” I ask once her choked sobs ease.
“Storm knows. He dealt with it,” she whispers.
A fresh wave of anger rolls over me like a wave in the ocean. Why the fuck didn’t he tell me? We had a deal when I left that I was to know anything and everything that happened in Wynter’s life and being beaten by what I can only assume was a belt seems like something I should have fucking known about.
“I asked him not to tell you. It wasn’t long after you left and I went to college, and I didn’t think you would care, but in case you did and came back just to leave again… I couldn’t handle it. So I asked him not to tell anyone, including Rayne and Snow.”
The explanation does little to calm the vibrant red in my vision. It does nothing to help ease the tension so tight I’m almost certain my entire body is going to snap, and it doesn’t even begin to remove my own self-loathing. She was hurt because I wasn’t there. If I never left, she wouldn’t have been in that position, because I never would have let that happen.
“Don’t be angry at him. It was my own stupidity, and it’s dealt with already.”
Before I can think better of it, I’m flipping her onto her back and leaning over her, my fingers grasping her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “Of course I’m angry, dove. I’m fucking livid that someone hurt you and I wasn’t the one to kill them. I’m furious that my best friend didn’t tell me someone hurtmywoman. And I’m fucking devastated that someone else has marked you and therefore you think you’re used goods.” I force the words through gritted teeth, barely controlling my need to cover her body with my own marks.
Wynter’s mouth drops open and I can’t help but focus on her luscious lips quivering under my gaze. She looks perfect when she’s underneath me, exactly where she belongs. “I wasn’t yours then,” she whispers.
“You havealwaysbeen mine, Wynter. And you always will be.” I rest my forehead on hers for a moment, taking the time to breathe her in. The intoxicating mixture of vanilla and sin fills my nose, and it takes all I have not to take her right here and now. But there are secrets we’re both holding close to our chests, and until they’re out in the open, I’ll have to keep my hands to myself.
19
Wynter
Shame creeps up and grasps my throat like a vise. I never wanted anyone to see the marks he left, never wanted anyone to know about the part of my past I desperately wanted to keep hidden. That’s the thing about living in the public eye, there are one of two ways things can go. One, you have all the power and influence at your disposal and can bury it when things like this happen. Or two, the press get ahold of it and your life implodes on itself.
Thankfully Storm took care of it long before anyone else could get wind of what happened, and then we never spoke of it again. I’ve never felt as ashamed as I did when I called Storm to help me, begging him through tears not to tell anyone what happened. The anger and disappointment in his eyes still haunts me.
The way Everett looks down at me isn’t too far removed from that. He looks angry, angrier than I can ever remember seeing him. His jaw is tight, and the fire in his gaze burns into my bare flesh. I didn’t think it through when I stripped completely, because now I’m vulnerable for more than one reason. His words hang between us long after he says them, their meaning not lost on me.
“That’s not true,” I finally say.
“Why? Because I left? Or because you slept with someone else and they hurt you? Or for some other reason you’re concocting in that pretty little head of yours?”
Not for the first time since he carried me into the room, my mouth drops open. The things this man says sometimes astound me. “I never slept with anyone else,” I admit quietly.
His eyes widen and a look of relief washes through the flames. “You didn’t?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s why…” I barely stop myself from telling him that’s why Craig hurt me.
Everett closes his eyes and takes long, deep breaths. He’s trying not to frighten me, trying to calm himself down enough that he won’t accidentally hurt me while I’m vulnerable, but that’s one thing he doesn’t know about me. He doesn’t know that I like the pain, I thrive off it. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to want it though. After Craig I couldn’t trust anyone to deliver what I needed without taking it too far. But the need for the burn always simmers just beneath the surface.
“That’s why what, Wynter?” he asks quietly, the tension throughout his whole body vibrates through us both as he barely contains the anger.
“That’s why he punished me.” I wince at my own words. All getting into this story is going to achieve is Everett never letting me leave the damn house again, but I have a feeling he’s not going to allow me to continue brushing him off.
He carefully places me down beside him and pushes up from the bed. He immediately starts pacing backward and forward across the room with his fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. The agony written across his features breaks my heart, and for the first time since he walked back into my life, I believe every word he’s said. If Everett didn’t care about me, and he left without caring what it did to me, he wouldn’t look like he’s about to drop to his knees in pain. The anger radiating from his every pore wouldn’t be as pronounced if he didn’t mean when he said I’m his and always have been.
Everett loves me. He’s always loved me. And he didn’t leave because I wasn’t enough. Those are the thoughts running through my mind as I climb off the bed and take careful steps toward him, approaching him like I would a wild animal. Because that’s what he is when he gets angry.
“Everett,” I say gently, reaching to brush my fingers down his arm. With anyone else I would be ashamed of my body, ashamed of standing here naked, but with Everett I feel safe.
“Sit back down, Wynter,” he growls, but I don’t move a muscle. He needs me, and after all the times he’s held me together when I was falling apart, it’s my turn to do the same. “I need you to sit down because I’m fucking terrified I’m going to hurt you when I’m this angry.”
“You won’t,” I say quietly as I take another step toward him, blocking his path when he moves to start pacing again.
“This is my fault.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I was meant to protect you. I thought I had.”
“This is not your fault. It happened a long time ago when I was in a bad place, but you are not to blame.”
