Chapter 35 #2
I intended to draw a bath and ease him into it. Sit with him there and let the warm water cleanse and soothe us both. But I couldn’t do much with my hands full, so I stopped by my bed to lay him down.
When I set him on the mattress, he cried out like something in him broke.
Arms flailed weakly and then caught hold of me—gripping so hard I didn’t think, just wrapped him back up in my embrace.
He buried his face against my neck, breath hitching, skin clammy with sweat and his body trembling like some kind of addict.
The apologies started immediately. Slurred nonsense, cut with gasps and hiccupping sobs that spilled out as he writhed against me.
His fingers roamed clumsily, sliding down my chest and lower, brushing my belt with shaky insistence.
His mouth chased mine, lips grazing my jaw, then my cheek, panting hot and open like he didn’t know how to stop himself.
“Please,” he whimpered, frantic. “Please, one more time, Beck. I need… I can’t—don’t send me back like this. Don’t send me away.”
“I’m not sending you anywhere,” I said, reminding him of what we’d discussed at the Basilica. I went there for him, and we were far from through.
Cupping his face, I tried to steady him, but he wouldn’t still. My jacket hit the floor in a whisper of fabric, shoved off my shoulders by hands that barely worked.
“Zephyr, stop. Baby, come on.” I tried to pull free, but he held on tighter.
“I-I’ll make it good for you,” he sputtered, violet eyes wide. “I’ll be such a good… good boy. I feel nice, don’t I? Wet, and hot, and…” He shifted under me with a shaky grind of his hips. “And don’t you like fucking me?”
His words cracked something open in my chest. Shame. Longing. Fury. None of it at him.
“Zephyr, please…”
I was begging now. Not for sex. For mercy—from him, from myself, from whatever power had created a creature like this and allowed him to suffer.
Zephyr stopped wriggling, then tilted his head, expression settling from its previous frenzy. “Do you think my dick is pretty?” he asked.
The question came out with strange clarity, like it mattered more than anything else in the world. Maybe, to him right now, it did.
I swallowed hard, my throat thick. “You’re beautiful, baby,” I assured him. “Every inch of you. But you don’t want me like this.”
His next blink unleashed a tear, and his lips trembled as he whispered, “I do want you, Daddy. I want you to feed me.”
Daddy.
The weight of that word hit me dead center. It wasn’t playful or filthy. Not thrown around for the sake of a kink. It was bare and aching. Something small and starved reaching for comfort. Reaching for me.
It could’ve made me feel powerful. Instead, it made me feel responsible. Like I was supposed to protect him, provide for him. He wanted me in that way, and I didn’t have to think hard before realizing I wanted it too.
I wanted to shield him from the clawing hunger. The soul-deep emptiness almost too big for his body to contain.
He wasn’t trying to seduce me. He was trying to stay alive.
“All right, baby,” I said, voice shaking. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. We’ll get you clean and settled. Take it real slow. And I’m going to send Colette for real clothes. No more of this whore shit.”
Zephyr let out a little noise and sagged in my arms, fingers curling in my shirt.
I pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered, “Bath first. Then we’ll figure out the rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
I was reluctant to leave him, afraid he would perceive my absence as rejection, but he stayed calm while I got him situated in a heap of pillows, then scurried into the bathroom to start the tub filling.
Perched on the edge of the porcelain bath, I took a moment for my thoughts.
Stefano had played the game to give me another chance of winning.
He hadn’t said so, but I could deduce. He’d worried about my foolhardy offer and the potential consequences—what I stood to lose.
And he’d forfeited at the end to ensure I could carry my incubus out of there. He’d protected Zephyr and me.
I owed him a debt of gratitude, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
After years of storing up resentment toward the angel, any other sentiment seemed ill-fitting. But I couldn’t deny that his actions had got me here, with my Beauty, and forty-eight hours to solve the problem of how to free him from Maslow’s clutches for good.
Perhaps… not just him.
The thought of Darby and the cowboy twins was unwanted but not unexpected.
Zephyr had found a benefactor in me. A champion willing to rally to his cause.
But the other dolls had nothing. They’d survived in Maslow’s hell on Earth for years, relying on no one but each other. Weren’t they equally worthy of rescue?
The water roared from the faucet, and steam filled the air. I took a deep breath.
Maybe I could learn a lesson from my angelic ex.
Maybe it was my turn to play a game to give someone else a chance at winning.
To safeguard someone else’s foolish wager.
Every one of the Dollhouse dolls had gone all in on Maslow’s empty promises, and I wouldn’t see them punished for it. Not anymore.
It was time to ante up.