Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I don’t remember most of the trek back to Killian’s chamber. A miserable sort of numbness falls over me, thinking of Sae. Wondering if the man I just killed really was the one who took her away.
Not for the first time, I think of how terrified she must have been. How alone she must have felt.
The numbness melts away, replaced by that dark, shadowed wave of violence once more. It makes me want to kill that piece of shit all over again. And his brother and all their friends, too.
Scum of the fucking kingdom.
I start to come back to myself when Killian guides me into the bathing chamber connected to his bedroom. This place puts the Bonded washroom to shame. Elaborate mosaics cover the walls, dotted with precious stones that catch the lamplight like stars. There’s a deep tub set into the floor, large enough that it could hold ten people comfortably, steam already rising from water that smells of richly fragrant oils.
“You should clean up,” Killian says, his gaze scouring me without judgment. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
I’m sure I look awful right now, given how sticky my face and hands are. But he’s not flinching from the sight. He never has. Killian has always, always taken me as I am. Accepted my wild side and helped me resist my more self-destructive instincts.
He turns to go and I catch his wrist, the part of me that has been fighting him finally turned silent. I think back to how he tortured the prisoner so calmly.
How calculated and brutal he was. How much I liked seeing him that way.
I’m exhausted and disappointed that we didn’t find out anything about Saela, and more than anything, I’m done.
Done fighting this, done pretending that I don’t ache to be in his arms, having him take care of me.
“Stay,” I say plainly.
His sapphire eyes snap to mine and he takes a step closer. “You’re sure?” he asks.
“Positive,” I say. “I’ve missed you.”
He reaches out, calmly taking one of my hands into his larger ones and turning it over. “I’ve missed you too, kitten. You didn’t cut yourself?” The blood on them is dried and cracking now. It starts to flake away under his unflinching touch.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur.
“Good,” he says. “Let’s get you bathed.”
He unbuttons my blood-soaked shirt and peels it away, stepping closer to me, the heat of his body already warming me. Killian leans down and kisses my filthy cheek, my shoulder, my breastbone, working my breast binding off with his agile fingers. His hands slide down to my hips and he helps me wriggle out of my pants and underthings.
Then he steps back and stares hungrily at my naked, bloodied form. My cheeks flush.
“I’m sure I look frightful,” I say.
“You’re the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”
My heart swells and suddenly I can sense Anassa’s presence growing stronger in my mind. Mortified and acting on instinct, I slam down the iron wall between us.
“ Not this ,” I think desperately at her, hoping it reaches her behind the barrier. “ You are not welcome to my intimate moments .”
There’s only silence on her end.
“Mer?” Killian says, looking quizzically at me.
“Sorry,” I say, then grab at his shirt, eager to have him undressed. To see the hard lines of his body, feel his hands on me.
I can finally admit I’ve been craving this, wanting him despite my anger and hurt. That night after night, I’ve watched the other Rawbonds find their satisfaction with each other, and in my mind it was only him— Killian .
Killian undresses quickly. His familiar form is as beautiful as ever, lean and hard with muscles. My gaze skirts his chiseled abdominals and dips down to the hardening length between his legs. My thighs clench at the sight. Guess he’s been frustrated, too.
He guides me down the steps into the steaming water. We settle on a tiled bench built into the side of the pool.
“Here,” Killian murmurs, snagging a bottle from the shelf set into the wall. “Let me.”
I nod and duck my head under the tap to wet my hair. Then I turn to lean back against his chest. The sensation of his hands in my hair—his fingers gliding tenderly against my scalp—is so soothing and full of affection that tears threaten. I’ve been starved for his love and tenderness.
When he’s done with my hair, he moves on to my body. And the comforting touch soon turns to something else.
The slick of the soap is sinful even as it washes away the last traces of my violent sins. His hands reach around me, one sliding down the length of my throat, the other cupping my breast, then skimming down my side.
Killian’s touch doesn’t change—he still carefully soaps every inch of me, his fingers gentle and purposeful. My eyes drop to watch them trace their path down my body, and my face flushes at the erotic sight.
His hands drift to the tops of my thighs, then back up, massaging soap into both breasts, and the gentle tug of his palms rubbing over my nipples lights me on fire. I lean my head back against his shoulder, unable to hold back a moan.
Killian’s breath huffs out against my skin, and I can picture the exact amused yet aroused look that’s on his face.
His hands know my body so well. His every touch stokes my arousal, and I’m getting wetter and wetter between my legs somehow, despite the sudsy water I’m immersed in.
Without warning, his mouth comes to my neck, teeth grazing and then nipping, and I yelp, my back arching involuntarily.
Finally his touch grows harder, possessive. One hand splays against my stomach, fingers pressing into my lean abdomen, clamping me tight against his chest and stomach, his erection insistent against the curve of my ass. I grind back against him, the slip and slide of the soapy water insanely erotic between his cock and my curves.
He stiffens behind me, his teeth sinking harder into my neck. “Killian,” I gasp, and he groans, then.
“Say my name again,” he rasps, lips against my ear.
“ Killian .”
Still pressing me firm against him with one hand, his other sinks lower, lower to the needy place between my thighs. The slide of his fingers against me in the warm water is electric. I squirm and keen as he touches me just how he knows I like it, speeding up then slowing down.
My breathing hitches as my orgasm comes at me fast. “Oh goddess—yes—” and then in one swift motion he pulls his hand away, grabbing my hips and repositioning us so that when I sink back down, it’s onto his cock, his hot length filling me tighter and tighter. After weeks without him, he’s almost too much for me; I’m panting as he pulls me the last inch downward, sheathing himself completely inside of me.
He pulls one of my own hands over to the apex of my thighs, his fingers interweaving with mine as together, we find my clit again, every touch like fire with the added feeling of him deep inside me, somehow getting even harder as I clench around him.
Then his hands are back on my hips and he’s lifting me, pulling me down, fucking me as I find my own pleasure, desperately touching myself as I start to shatter around him.
“Come for me, kitten,” he growls, and that’s all it takes to put me over the edge—I cry out as I come, pushing my hips hard against him, wanting to feel every inch, and then he’s coming too, sharp thrusts that drive him even deeper as I pant, the waves of my orgasm still crashing over me.
Finally, we both stop moving, and I relish the feeling of him still inside me, still filling me as both of us fight to catch our breath.
“That was…” I’m not sure I have words to describe it. The pleasure, the comfort of his hands, the warm water, the sting of his teeth.
Exhaustion hits me, and I sink back against him more fully. His arms wrap around me, possessive.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my hair. “Sorry we didn’t learn anything about Saela.”
Heart swelling with love and grief, I turn in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and pressing my mouth to his.
“Don’t be sorry,” I whisper. “Because of you, the Nabbers will be shut down. No more kids will go missing from Sturmfrost. It’s a victory, even if we didn’t find out anything about Saela. It’s more than I ever expected. Thank you.”
He smiles, but there’s pain in his eyes. “We’ll find her. I promise. I won’t give up until we do.”
The tears that threatened earlier return. With them comes a steely certainty that settles deep into my bones.
He’s right. One way or another—whether through Killian’s power, my bond with Anassa, or with the strength of my own blood-soaked hands—I’m going to bring my sister home.