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What I feel for Connor is real. All the feelings I’ve been scared to touch or even acknowledge for the past two years, or maybe even longer, overcome me and it feels like being struck by lightning.
It takes my breath away.
But I don’t want this awareness to be forever interwoven with this moment, so I swallow it back down, breathing in Connor like a drug instead.
When we pull away, my eyes find his dark, glorious gaze. My arms slip around his waist, while my head finds the crook of his neck.
We stay silent, watching the chapel burn, the flames dancing over the quiet ripples of the pond. The screams inside eventually die down, and I know in my heart that my brother’s end has come.
Breaking the hypnotizing spell, I finally whisper, “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 46
It’slateafternoonbythe time we get to the house. Home, Lenix called it. Unsurprisingly, I notice Sunny’s car waiting for us. Byzantine must have called ahead. She bursts into tears when she sees us pull up. Lenix gingerly steps out of the car, still sore from her branding and Sunny rushes to help her. They hug, cry and Lucy eventually steps out of the car too. Sunny embraces her as if they’ve known each other for years.
I leave them to their heartfelt reunion, although I would rather take Lenix into my own arms and hold her for the foreseeable future. I don’t know how I’ll ever let her out of my sight again when I’m still shaking with the fear of her being taken. The guilt is chewing me up but I’ll pretend it’s not. I’ll pretend I’m fine. That I’m still the same Connor I was over a month ago before Lenix carved a hole in my chest and took up residence inside of me.
I walk up the stairs, and head for our room, stripping down to nothing but boxers. I end up sitting on the edge of my bed, lost in thought long enough for Lenix to walk in.
Looking up, I find her leaning in the doorway still wearing that ratty white dress, my leather jacket hanging slightly off one shoulder. All I want to do for the rest of my life is worship at her altar. She is a goddess amongst us sinners.
“Where’s your sister?” I rasp.
“Guest room,” she answers quietly.
I clear my throat and hold my hand out toward her. She pushes off the door, a small wince paints her face, but she tries to cover it quickly. I keep my expression calm, but inside I ease the snarling monster by imagining shooting her brother’s dick off all over again. Fucking worthless piece of shit. I would have done much worse if given the chance. But this was Lenix’s moment, not mine. I gladly stood by my wife’s side while she burned the whole thing down.
She steps between my open legs, my hands caressing up her thighs while my forehead falls on her stomach, my eyes closing. Her fingers rake through my hair, down to my nape as I savor the small shiver that accompanies it. I pull slightly away in order to look up at her.
“Let me take care of you,” I say softly.
Her throat bobs, giving me a small smile, and nods.
Once on my feet, I sweep my arms under her legs, picking her up and into my arms. She lets out a shaky exhale that I can almost convince myself sounds like a small laugh, wrapping herself around my neck while I carry her into the ensuite. Placing her back on her feet near the counter, I move to turn on the shower. At least mine is large enough for two, with a wall-mounted rainfall, and a built-in bench if Lenix needs it.
She looks almost doll-like in this light—carrying that evasive vulnerability she’s always so desperate to hide, especially around me.
Something has shifted between us, I’m sure she can feel it too. Still, silence accompanies our movements, as if words can’t be used to describe what is smoldering between us.
I push my coat off of her, letting it fall to the floor. My hands find her shoulders, fingers slipping under the small straps of her dress, tugging them down her arms, the material falling quietly, pooling at her feet.
Both our eyes fall on the soiled bandage on her hip covering the branding. I go to try and remove it but she pulls away slightly.
I look up into her eyes, the pain there guts me all over again. She shakes her head as if to say she doesn’t want me to see. My face softens, hands cradling her cheeks, my thumbs caressing just under her eyes. My lips press against hers, hoping she understands the feeling I’m trying to relay with each touch.
Nothing else matters other than she’s here, safe, with me.
“It needs to be cleaned, my darling,” I say with my lips still ghosting her own.
She concedes reluctantly, one silent tear falling over my thumb still resting on her cheek. I slowly pull away, and with more tenderness than I even knew I possessed, I peel off the bandage, making her hiss.
What I find underneath makes my insides twist and my jaw clenches, but I say nothing. Even if I could recognize the symbol, it’s so swollen and inflamed that you can barely make out the shape of it.
“Let’s take a shower first,” I say and lead her into the billowing steam. I take my time, cleaning her limb by limb, the suds washing off the dirt and grime from her skin. I avoid her hip, careful not to let the soap sting her fresh wound. I then pour a small dollop of shampoo into my palm, rubbing my hands together before reaching over to her head. She watches me and I can tell she’s fighting off a wave of emotion.
“He shaved it off in front of everyone,” she croaks, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It was my first punishment.”
I struggle to find the right words and instead let my tender touches speak for me.
