29. Sullen
Sullen
There is blood flecked on the green travel bag, but if Karia notices, she says nothing. Standing in the onyx-and-gold laced bathroom on the third floor—the one rarely used by anyone at all, often forgotten about—she only has her arms crossed over her chest and a frown gracing her beautiful lips.
Her gaze is on the black tile and even in the spacious room—black freestanding tub with a golden cart full of shampoos, conditioner, soap, bubbles; the work of one of my father’s employees, I am sure; a shower stall tiled in gray with golden veins, three showerheads, glass doors; double sinks, a wall that is entirely a mirror at my back, inlaid with golden ornamental filigree around the edges, and a walk-in closet full of towels like the white fluffy one I set on the counter for her—she is standing close to me, an inch or two away, if that.
I can smell the acrid scent of cleaning supplies and my own filth upon her, and although I told her she was dirty, it wasn’t that which stopped me from giving her what she pretends she so desperately wants.
It is my own nerves.
I cannot get undressed. I cannot be intimate.
Even with this princess I have dreamt of for years, in both nightmares and heavenly musings.
She is everything—the very thing—I have wanted all my life, and perhaps that is why baring myself to her seems an impossible task.
With someone else, it could be easier. If I could only practice, maybe I can return to her with more confidence and skill, knowing exactly what she needs.
Yet even though I do not understand her own jealousies, mine are wound so tightly around my throat when it comes to her, it is hard to breathe seeing her in the same room as another person.
But perhaps she doesn’t care so deeply. Maybe I could ask the favor; to touch someone else, as a rehearsal. If only we survive this.
The fan hums quietly over our heads in the high ceilings, a short chandelier in the middle of the room turned on its dimmest setting, thanks to me. I was surprised she agreed to follow me here when I offered her my hand in the library, the one Stein never set foot in as far as I know.
But she took my offer, I helped her to her feet, and she brushed the glass off her flawless skin then shrugged her shirt down, all without blushing.
It must be the wine.
Even now, staring at her bare feet chipped with pink polish that has seen better days, she seems a little unsteady, rocking back and forth, still dressed in an oversized shirt and shorts.
“Where is Sanford?” she asks quietly, her mouth dry.
“Maybe dead.” I don’t know, nor do I care. Cosmo, as he stripped me with a gun to my head and taunted me with worse, told me he had locked the man up. Where, I didn’t question. Sanford Rule’s safety means little to me.
No one’s does, including my own. The only exception is the girl in front of me now.
“Cosmo?” She lifts her tired eyes to mine and I swear I see a flicker of a shitty little smile on her soft lips as she says his name with care.
I cross my arms, mimicking her posture, and lean against the counter at my back, portraying an indifference I do not know how to feel. “The same.”
She doesn’t seem upset by the idea, although she must know I would know nothing of his whereabouts in this estate. The last time I saw him was the same as her.
“Well if you plan to kill Stein when he arrives with his many men after he does not find us having the time of our life in Florida, perhaps you should act like you know what the fuck you’re doing.
” Her eyes flash and there is no mirth in her expression now.
She lifts her chin, her tangled hair falling back down her shoulders, a strand of brighter blonde across her cheekbone.
There are so many marks on her—the cut along her throat, my teeth marks, the bruises—she looks like a queen having conquered a battle.
When it comes to me, she won long ago, even if she has no idea.
“Find Cosmo, find Sanford, form a plan, Sullen.” She jerks her head to the shower stall at her back, spanning nearly the length of the room.
“And leave me alone so I can get less dirty for you in peace.” Despite her strong, vicious words, she looks to be trembling where she stands, no longer rocking on her feet, trying so hard to stand still.
I know that feeling.
Feigning courage in the face of absolute terror.
But what, exactly, is she afraid of? The way she offered herself to me on the floor of the library, I don’t believe it’s me.
Regardless, my face feels prickly with heat.
I don’t know what I’m doing; I have never had a chance to fight back.
And what happens, anyway? We stay here and wait for the calvary to come?
There is little odds in my favor that anyone will take my side over my father’s.
He might not be the leader of Writhe anymore, but he still has connections, money, influence.
And I have seen enough to know people will follow those evil three to their own death on the desperate hope it will scoop them up to heaven if only for a brief moment on earth.
People are despicable.
They never choose good for good’s sake.
Besides that, I am not good. If Stein is evil, I am only his disgusting son.
I clench my teeth, hating the thought, and knowing it is true all the same.
I swallow all of that down. She is biting back, lashing out, because she is upset about something I do not understand.
I think of her last words and I say, “I like all versions of you, Karia.”
For a moment, she seems stunned, her eyes widening, brows lifting, her pink lips parting into a surprised O.
Then the second passes and she is glaring once more.
“I have never been nearly naked before a man who then sprung away from me. It seems there is some version of me you don’t care for at all. ”
My body tenses, thinking of the men she has been naked for.
The ways I have seen it myself in one room of this house I will never show her.
It was a gross violation of her privacy, what Stein did to Ritual Drive with his cameras and his cruelty.
Even I, who have never had a sliver of true, untarnished solitude in my life, understand this.
But it doesn’t erase the videos from my head. The ways she has been motionless for Cosmo, quiet and submissive for Von, gazing up at him in adoration.
I don’t say anything. I cannot express the grief, the ache, the loneliness I felt watching her without me, and yet being unable to turn away, like I was at the Night of Lies.
“What?” she asks, her voice whisper-soft as she steps forward, one foot in front of the other, until she is right in front of me, arms still crossed, chin tilted up to stare at me in a challenge.
“Tell me what you’re thinking. Argue with me.
Fight with me, Sullen.” Her eyes are glassy, bloodshot, marks of exhaustion beneath them.
I shake my head once, half a gesture. “Get in the shower.”
“No.”
“Karia.” My heart races. I inhale through my nose, nostrils flaring, catching the scent of her beneath the cleaning products and the filth of me. She is intoxicating; she always has been. It is nearly enough to bring me to my knees.
“Say something,” she says, her voice cracking. “Tell me I’m doing this for a reason. Tell me there is… something here for us. Tell me you feel something for me.”
“Stop begging me.”
“Isn’t that what you like?” she arches a brow, pink flushing her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away.
I like you. I swallow down the confession.
She should know it’s true by now. “What do you want from me, to prove it to you? I have been stripped by your friend, slashed across the face from my father, stabbed,” I wince as I say the last two words, but carry on.
“I have damned my entire life to save you. A blade thrown at our heads by a man who was so much worse than Stein. I have…” I swallow tightly, my stomach knotted into ache and grief and hurt.
“What do you want? What is it, tell me, and I’ll—”
“Shower with me,” she says softly. “Like before, but…” She trails off, and I think of her on her knees in the hotel before Sanford interrupted us at the worst possible moment.
The slithering of the pipes. The pounding on the door.
Our world changing, once more.
“But?” I press, knowing what she wants. Knowing I cannot give that to her.
She must see it, in my eyes. The way I have guarded so much of myself, the battlements are permanent. They cannot be taken down. Her face falls, throat rolling as she drops her gaze.
Then her arms.
Then she leans against me, her temple to my sternum. I drop my own arms just in time to let her find refuge in my body.
A shocked gasp of breath leaves my lips.
She does not hug me or touch me with anything but her head against my chest, but it is enough.
I feel all of her sorrow; for us, for her friends maybe, her parents.
For what could have been and never was. For the ways I may not survive any of this, and even if I do…
She wants me to tell her there is something here for us, but as I let her rest for this single moment, my body tense and still and impossibly her shelter even as I don’t touch her, scared to frighten her off, I don’t know if that will ever be true.
“Nevermind,” she whispers, her lips moving against the fabric of my hoodie.
“I know you can’t.” She says it without disdain or mockery, yet it feels like a slap in the face all the same.
“Just wait for me, while I shower. Then, can we just sleep?” She looks up at me, her palms replacing her temple on my chest.
I swallow the tight lump in my throat. I feel the patch of my mangled skin there, disfigured from the man who claims to be my father. It is a sickening reminder of how I will never be fit for a princess like Karia.
Yet I can’t deny her most things.
Only those which would scar her more than giving in.
So to her question, I nod once, wishing we had more than sleep to look forward to for the remainder of the night.