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It's only when we get home that he finally speaks.
"You looked," he says as he more or less rips the shirt off his back. "You looked, Noelle, when I didn't want you to," he draws a tired breath in.
"Does it matter?" I ask quietly. I hadn't realized he didn't want me to see. I'd thought he turned me away simply for my own sensibilities.
"Of course it matters," he grits out, striding towards me just as he flings the bloodied shirt aside. He looks menacing in his full angry glory, and I can't help the way my heart skips a beat as he stops in front of me, the blue of his eyes glinting dangerously.
"I didn't want you to see that. To see me…" he grinds his teeth, stopping himself from adding the words.
See me kill a man.
"You did it for me," I nod quietly, recognizing the struggle within him. "How could I ever reproach you something you did for me?"
"Noelle," he groans, a tortured sound wrenched from his lips as he brings his hands to my shoulders, holding tight but seemingly unable to do much else.
It's in that moment that I realize that despite the cold exterior he's projecting, there's real anguish inside of him—real pain that seeks comfort.
So I give it to him. I give him my touch and my presence, wanting to let him knownothingcould change the way I see him—theonlyway I could ever see him.
Bringing my hand to his cheek, I caress him lightly, forcing him to look me in the eye and see for himself that there's no reproach, no anger, nothing but love.
"Don't go down that road," I shake my head. "You know I'llneverrevile you for doing what's necessary."
"Was it necessary, though?" he asks bitterly. "Or was it necessary forme?"
"Raf…"
"I could have let him go. I beat the shit out of him enough that he would have felt the aftermath of it for days after, maybe even learn his lesson."
"What if he wouldn't have… You saw his record," I try to argue.
"But who am I to judge?" he squeezes his eyes shut. "Who the hell am I to judge? And yet I did it anyway. And you know why?"
I move my head from side to side, awaiting him to speak, knowing he needs this cathartic moment.
"All I could think about wasyou," he continues, meeting my gaze with his intense one. "When I read those charges against him all I could think was…you. Because I can't help it, pretty girl. I see you in every potential victim and I know I would do everything in my power to keep this world as safe as a place as I can in order foryouto be safe."
"And how is that a bad thing?" I shoot back, surprised he's beating himself up over this.
"Because it's not my place to decide a man's fate just for…" he shakes his head, confusion clawing at his features. "There's something wrong with me, Noelle," he rasps as he brings his forehead to my shoulder, resting his huge frame against me yet not daring to touch me further. "There's something seriously wrong with me because I'm capable ofanythingwhen you're concerned. I've never been like this before, so out of control, so…" he trails off.
I don't know how to help him.
It's clear he's internally struggling to make sense of this, and I'm growing increasingly desperate as I can't find a way to help him—soothe and comfort him like I want to.
Instead, I merely thread my fingers through his hair, patting him lightly and listening to him.
"I thought I knew what justice was. I thought I knew what right and wrong was, but the lines are blurring, baby," he breathes hard. "When it comes to you,allthe lines are blurry," he confesses.
Little does he know that for me, those lines have been blurred for a long, long time. Maybe I struggled with my decisions in the beginning, too. Maybe there was a time I also beat myself for taking a human life. Ultimately, I embraced it.
Later that night, we go to sleep wrapped in each other and a novel urgency borne out of Raf's explosive emotions.
For someone who's held himself so tightly in check all his life, I feel he's about to explode.
Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether that will be a good thing, or a bad one.
TWENTY-ONE
