Страница 32 из 97
Water from the faucet pours into the tub, layering the room with thick condensation. Emptying almost an entire bag of bath salts, I toss the packet onto the counter and grab the lavender oil, drizzling in a few drops. Swiping my eyes, I snuffle, attempting to calm myself down. When I was a kid, my mom would make me a bath with lavender and rose oil in an attempt to relax me. She said that I carried a lot of rage, but that I carried it well.
“If you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, then you better use that weight as the material in which you build your life with.”
My mother was wise, but I’ve come to think of death like this. When people are too precious for earth, God takes them early. The world can be so broken that those who are too precious to walk it, are taken.
I screw the lid back onto the oil, clutching my towel in my hand.
“You really should lock your door.” My heartbeat quickens at Killian’s voice, but I refuse to turn around. Leaning forward, I place the little bottle onto the edge of the bath.
“You really should have a shower, Killian, I can smell your last meal from here.” I clamp my mouth shut as the final word flies out. A
He must make his way farther into the bathroom, because his hand flexes around the front of my throat. My skin prickles at his proximity. At his touch. It soothes that pain that I have rooted deep inside of me. But what if the same hands that soothe me are the very ones that harm me?
His thumb massages the line of my throat as he tilts my head backward so I’m looking up at him upside down. “What’s wrong?” He’s not wearing a shirt, as per usual. K I Z N I T C H is tattooed over his chest in small Old English script.
I turn away from him. “Nothing.” Standing in the tub, I turn to face him, the level of the bath giving me more height, even though Kill is a couple inches above six-foot and I’m barely five-foot-three. I grip onto the towel and unwrap myself, but I keep my eyes on his.
Tossing the towel onto the floor, I sink into the bath and sigh as the hot water pinches my skin.
“You’re mad.” He sits on the edge of the tub. “You go
“I’m not mad,” I answer honestly. Because I’m not. “It’s nothing.” It’s not nothing, but I can’t tell him any more than I have. I have to conceal my hand. Sometimes protecting ourselves means hurting ourselves in the process.
His hand comes to my chin as he squeezes roughly, casing me out. I scan his face. His jawline is cut impeccably flawless, with a blade as sharp as a razor. His cheekbones stride classically across his face in perfect symmetry. His eyebrows are expressive, curving and dipping whenever he’s deep in thought. His lips, well. His lips are something else entirely. The edges soft, dipping into a cupid bow. Everything about Killian is powerful and addictive.
His tongue sneaks out, dampening his bottom lip, the piercing on his tongue catching my eye.
“Did you have fun last night?” I need to distract myself from wanting to pull him into the bath and hate fuck him into tonight.
He leans down, his lips grazing over mine. I melt, slipping under the water a little more. “No,” he mumbles before leaning back. His hand drops from around my face. “You know that I’ve fucked all of those girls, right? And have multiple times. It’s what this lifestyle is all about and I was raised in this here, so I don’t know any other way.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t look at him, reaching for the soap and squeezing the bottle into the palm of my hand.
“Because I feel like what happened last night is playing a part in why you’re pissed.”
I leer up at him i
His eyes fall to the movement. He smirks. “Sure about that?”
I shrug. “I’m sure.”
He pauses, pinching his lips between his teeth. “We’ll see.” Just when I think he’s going to do or say something. Anything. Maybe tell me what happened last night, he turns and leaves.
“Lock your fucking door.”