Chapter 26
The morning sun flows into the small bedroom like a beautiful current of golden light. A cool breeze shifts my blood-stained hair, and I hear the chirping of birds outside the open window. I am relaxed, and I don’t feel much pain, although I’m fearful of moving any parts of my body.
I keep my eyes closed, immersed in the calm of the morning light, letting the blissful ignorance of sleep weigh me down.
I begin to move my fingers, feeling the gentle tickle of the warm bedsheets waking my body up gradually, waiting for the familiar agony to flood me.
As I slowly start to move, I don’t feel pain.
Instead, I notice a dull ache, but I feel stronger than I have in days.
With newfound confidence, I focus on my arms, toes, and legs as I regain the courage to open my heavy eyes.
I glance around the golden-lit room to see the war zone of what happened last night.
Bits and pieces come rushing back into my mind as I look at my stomach, slowly propping myself up on my elbows.
The Voids, Crew arriving at both the right and wrong time, and the Reaper. His chillingly familiar face, haunting ancient voice, and words play in my mind like a broken record.
A large T-shirt covers most of my body, and I slowly lift the hem of the cotton fabric to see the still-healing bullet hole in my lower stomach covered in thin gauze. I glance at the ground, taking in the bloody towels, sheets, and clothes, making the memories of everything crash into my mind.
Inside the apartment, silence envelops me, and a wave of sadness washes over me as I look into the small living room and see that no one is here.
He isn’t here.
Again.
I slowly sit up, taking a moment to steady my body, and swing my legs over the bed.
I swear I heard him say he wouldn’t leave, but I wasn’t thinking straight last night.
I brush away thoughts of him. All I want right now is a bath and to brush my teeth.
I lick my dry lips and taste the familiar sting of Crew’s blood.
A jolt runs through me, and I shake my head, once again pushing thoughts of him aside.
I gradually apply pressure to my feet, then my legs, and feel victorious as I stand without falling, even though my entire body trembles beneath me. I sluggishly shuffle to the bathroom, feeling each ache and pain flow through me like a vibrating current.
I waste no time brushing my teeth three times to remove the taste of blood—both crimson and black. I glance in the mirror, noticing how filthy my hair is—stained red and messy. My eyes sag with exhaustion, dark purple circles accentuated underneath, and I look pale.
I wipe my mouth, spitting into the sink, thinking about the dark flow of Crew’s blood in my mouth and my swollen lips wrapped around his pulsing wrist. The memory of the sensation as it slithered down my throat, a whisper of delicious darkness, sends a shiver up my spine, and I find myself craving more—craving him.
As hard as I try to block it from my memory, being that close to his darkness excites me.
Wait.
Is Crew hot?
I shake my head.
Get a fucking grip, you blood-thirsty skank.
At least I look the part of a corpse, because that’s what I feel like.
I start the bath, groaning as I bend to turn on the hot water.
It doesn’t take long for the tiny bathroom to fill with steam, which helps warm the icy chill in my bones.
I turn back to the mirror and stare at myself, wondering how I’m going to be able to remove the shirt.
If lifting my arms was hard before, it’s going to be impossible in my current state.
I inhale deeply, gathering the courage to undress.
I lift my arms, and a wave of dizziness makes me grasp the edge of the sink.
Defeat runs through me, and I’m half tempted to bathe with the damn shirt on at this point.
I take a break and remove the gauze on my stomach, refusing to look at the wound.
You can do this.
But the soreness, combined with the stiffness, prevents me from even getting close to fully undressing.
“Shit,” I mumble, and take another long breath.
I refocus, give myself a quick pep talk, and don’t hesitate to snatch my arms above my head. Stars dance in my vision, and I nearly crash to the ground from the pain that rattles my teeth. A quiet sob leaves my lips, and I cup my hand over my mouth.
I spin to turn the water off, giving up on the bath, but before I can, a tall figure captures my attention through the mirror's reflection. Startled, I snap my gaze to the doorframe and push back the nerves that threaten to overwhelm me.
“You are doing a terrible job at being quiet,” Crew says.
“Oh,” I mutter, surprised.
“You alright?” he asks, gently.
I sigh, brushing off the pain. “I don’t like that question.”
“Why?” he responds, crossing his arms across his bare chest.
I blink and shrug. “Because it either makes me be honest with someone who might not deserve my honesty, or it forces me to lie to myself.”
He hums.
“What?”
“I’ve never thought about it that way before.” He angles his head.
“Yeah, well, now you have,” I say. “I don’t like questions that require lying.”
He steps forward, his silver eyes setting my insides ablaze. “Well, what do you like, Mara? Because I’m trying really hard to figure you out.”
Oh…God.
His tone is deep and dark, and another thrill runs through me. He looks different today, and I swallow hard, ignoring the feeling of his blood against my tongue—his warm, soft skin against my lips—and I shiver, refusing to look at his biceps.
Stop it, you skank, I think to myself. Get it together.
“A bath.” I point at the tub. “I’d like a bath.”
He glances behind me, then raises his brows. Crew was clearly watching me struggle.
“Well, once again, you aren’t asking for help.”
“I don’t need help.”
I let go of the bottom of the large T-shirt and stare at him. His hair is a mess, he’s clearly just as exhausted as I am, and he’s still covered in blood—my blood. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t look away from his chest.
“Sure.” He smiles.
“I didn’t think you were even here?”
He tilts his head in confusion. “I told you I wasn’t leaving again. And I won’t without your knowledge from now on.”
I nod, recalling his words the night prior.
“Surely after everything, you realize I keep my word.”
I exhale. “After everything, I really don’t know what to think, Crew. It feels like my world’s been turned upside down.”
He unfolds his arms, “Maybe it has.”
“Please don’t be so ominous. I don’t have the energy.”
He huffs a laugh, raising his hands in defeat. “I’m following your lead here.”
I turn toward the bath, desperate to step into the water, even if just for a second. “When have you ever done that?”
His eyes narrow as he steps into the bathroom. “I’d say constantly.”
We fall into silence, and I stand there frozen, unsure of what move to make next. Crew doesn’t move either, studying me like I’m going to bolt or attack, which is fair from my track record. His stare pierces something deep inside me, and I swear for a moment he can feel everything I am.
Luckily, he speaks first. “How do you feel?”
I look back in the mirror at myself. “I feel like I look—like absolute shit.”
“I promise you don’t look like shit.” He chuckles, stepping behind me, and his hips nearly press against my back. “Why are you so hard on yourself?”
I turn, and in the small space, my chin nearly touches his chest. I crane my neck to look at his face, and he watches me, as if waiting to see if I’m going to yell, cry, or fight being this close to him. A faint tingle runs through my body, and I feel a throbbing urge to touch his skin.
“I think it’s fun.” I smile and notice how disheveled he is. “Keeps me on my toes.”
He grins. “Your idea of fun is fucking sick.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Yeah.” Crew shrugs, stretching, and I nearly drool. “I got at least twenty minutes of sleep once I realized you were going to continue breathing.”
“Amazing,” I mutter to myself.
“I feel super rested,” Crew continues. “Ready to tackle the day.”
Or tackle me.
I smirk at my own thought and lower my head. “Thank you for everything.”
He gently lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing me to look into his glowing silver eyes. I allow it, even though I keep my hands pressed firmly to my sides. My jaw tenses.
“How do you truly feel, Mara?” Crew asks.
I take a deep breath, letting my mind focus on my body, and I choose not to lie to myself—or to Crew. “I’m alright. Well, I will be. I’m sore, but I’m alive.”
He nods. “Yes, you are.”
Crew leans over me, his head moving close to my chest. He turns off the water and grabs a towel under the sink for me, returning his hard stare to me once he’s finished.
“Do you want help? Or do you enjoy struggling?”
My stomach twists at what he’s asking. Honestly, I do need help. After last night, I might need to learn how to ask for it before I ruin my life any further.
“I—” I stutter. “I don’t think I can lift my arms, and I think it’s worse after last night.”
“That’s what I figured,” Crew says. “So, say it.”
I furrow my brow. “Say what?”
He smirks.
I sigh and gently push his chest. “You are impossible.”
Crew raises both brows, then checks an invisible watch on his wrist.
“I need your help, Bannermin.”
“With?” His gaze darkens. “What can I help you with?”
My eyes bore into his, and I lower my chin, glaring through my lashes. “I need help… taking off my shirt.”
He tilts his strong neck back with a laugh, and I swallow hard, his amusement catching me off guard. I watch the thick veins in his neck pulse, and I barely keep my jaw from slacking.
Oh no…
Crew is hot.
He’s enjoying this, and I want to drive my fist into his nose.
Get. A. Grip.
“Ah,” he hums. "That's music to my ears, blood slinger.”