25. Chapter 20
The warm air in my room blasts over my icy skin as Striker carries me through the door and walks us toward the bathroom. He doesn’t speak as he flicks on the light and sets me down in front of the bathroom sink. Instead, he fills the tub, not looking my way. The adrenaline of the night leaves my body in little tremors that come and go, so I grip the counter to keep my mind from wandering back to the woods.
“The radiator’s fixed?” I ask as he bends over to test the water.
I stare at his mask, the slash over the eye, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t respond as he walks to me and grips the sleeve of my sweater. He tugs it and I shrug it off. Then he lifts the hem of my ruined nightgown. My eyes dart up to his, but my pulse slows when I don’t see that dark edge in them like I’ve seen before. He gathers the gown around my waist and pulls up. Without a word, I lift my arms so he can slide it over my head. It slips to the floor and my hard nipples brush the front of his shirt.
“When did you fix it?” I ask, my voice a whisper. A light trembling starts in my shoulders, moving down to my legs.
“Reaper did this afternoon.”
My eyes flicker away and land on the open door, but I don’t see him. I know he’s out there, just outside the doorway. Just out of sight. Just out of reach. He must have done it earlier after they fed me and it hadn’t had enough time to warm up my room.
I wonder if I would have thought it was Cora screaming if I woke up warm, knowing he’d turned it on for me.
Gripping my bare waist, Striker turns me to face the mirror. His warm brown eyes drop to my hard nipples in the mirror as he backs away. The way his gaze slides over my naked body sends a wave of warmth between my thighs and I think my sanity was left in those dark woods. When his eyes land on my ass, he glances up briefly at me and then slides my hair off my back, over my shoulder. That same hand grips the back of my neck tightly, making me gasp and my pussy clench. Then he releases me, and lightly trails a finger from the back of my neck down my spine to my tailbone, sending a violent tremor through me.
“Your ass is beautiful this color,” he whispers. “The perfect shade of sin.”
My hands grip the edge of the vanity, heart picking up pace.
“Do you understand now what happens when you don’t listen?”
Faintly, I’m aware of my nod, telling both of us I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t leave the house. I’ll do as they ask.
“Bend forward and let me see you.”
My heart slams once, twice until it’s beating so hard it feels like my entire body is shaking with it.
“Good girl,” he praises as I lean over the sink, parting my thighs slightly.
My focus shifts from his reflection to my face in the mirror, and I see myself. The streaks of tears through the dirt on my cheeks. The thin cut on my swollen lip. My hair tangled, wild, leaves and twigs stuck in the ends. My eyes wide, but hard. I look untamed. Like some feral creature they plucked from the woods. That’s what I feel like inside, too. Uncaged. Unlocked. They pulled something from me, some shadowy thing that lived in my heart and now it’s free. Free to be this woman who’s bending over the sink, spreading her legs so Striker can see the marks they made and the slickness between my thighs.
I’m still so wet. Needy. That one orgasm was not enough to tame the wild feeling coursing through my limbs. I need more. Want more.
A fleeting thought flashes in my mind. Striker pulling himself free. Driving into me hard. Fast. Deep. Until this tightness in my chest is released and I feel like myself again. Until this feral woman in the mirror quiets her silent scream for more.
“So wet and pretty,” Striker says, grabbing my focus. He slowly lowers himself, until he”s kneeling, his palms skimming down my thighs to my ankles. ”Lift.” I raise my foot and he unties the boot and pulls it off, then the other and set them aside. I gasp, finger”s gripping the sink edge, when he grabs both my ass cheeks and spreads me until I’m completely exposed. Air leaves my lungs as he kneads my ass gently, rumbling moans of approval behind me, his thumb skimming over the wetness at my opening, then up to the tightness of my rear. I still, then melt as he presses lightly to the hole there. Warm lips touch my skin. “So beautiful.”
I clench my teeth, biting back the need clawing in my belly so I don’t whimper at his touch. When he finally lets me go, I relax and turn around to face him as he stands upright. Taking my hand, he leads me to the tub. I sink down into the water, my ass raw and my pussy sore, drawing my knees up to my chest.
He pushes up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms. I stare at the thin white scars running along his skin like tiny claw marks under the dusting of brown hair as he uses the cloth to wash my face, rubbing away the dirt.
“What are those from?”
His eyes drop to his forearm. “From the darkness.”
Darkness. Like where she was created. That wild woman in the mirror. I wonder if my time here will leave me with thin white scars. Maybe not on my flesh. Maybe only in places that can’t be seen.
“Princess.”
My eyes collide with his. I wonder how many times he’s said my pet name.
“Why Princess?” I whisper.
“You’ve lived in a gilded castle with a man who calls himself a king.”
“With a man who is creating an empire,” I snap, my anger fizzling as fast as it heated my chest.
“Your father is creating something, but it’s not an empire,” Striker says. “He’s a miserable, greedy man who’s cruel and depraved.”
I let his words sink to the bottom of the water, too heavy for me to deal with right now. I’m already weighed down with too much, including my own thoughts.
“What’s your name?” I ask. I don’t know why I do. Maybe because they took intimate parts of me and I want something back.
“Striker,” he says quietly.
“Just Striker?” I ask.
He drags the cloth over my collarbone, then says, “Just Striker.”
“Who were you before you were Striker?”
“I was a boy who lived in darkness,” he says.
When he moves the cloth over my lips, my heart skips. Aches. His tenderness has returned, like that night in the club when he was brutally rough, but everything he did to me was edged with a sweet tenderness that made my heart hurt. Made me crave more. Like right now.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper as he drags the cloth over my shoulder, then down my back. I don’t understand any of this. Why I’m here. Why Cora is here. What they’re doing.
“You will soon,” Striker says and swipes at my cheek. I hadn’t realized a tear had slipped out.
“If he’s so bad, why don’t you just kill him?” I ask. Or us.
Striker’s hand stills, eyes darting from the cloth to mine.
“If we killed Rune, he’d no longer feel pain.”
He’d no longer feel the fear of not knowing where we are. Viper said Rune has no clue where to find us. That’s why he hasn’t come. If they simply killed my father, Reaper wouldn’t be able to draw out his revenge.
“Whatever my father did must have been truly heinous to gain this level of hatred.”
“Your father isn’t a good man.” Striker drops the cloth, his eyes suddenly hard, like he forgot he was supposed to treat me with disdain. Like he forgot he’s supposed to hate me.
“You say that but won’t tell me what he did,” I say, watching as he stands and walks to the door.
Instead of answering, he says, “Wash up. Come down for breakfast after sunrise.”
“Striker,” I say as he nears the door. “I deserve to know what sin I’m paying for.”
He turns to face me. “You will find out when you’re ready to know.” He glances down at his watch before he turns to leave, but stops.
When his eyes meet mine, I suck in a breath. He barely looks present. Far away. But then he seems to snap back and shakes his head. “You may go out to the front garden, but do not go past the wall. Do not step foot on any ground that doesn’t take you right there.”
When I hear my bedroom door shut, I sink down into the water and dunk my head.
They don’t have to worry about me running again. I’m a fast learner.
And I know now exactly why I’m here.