Chapter Nine
ELIJAH
As she approached me, I let myself really take in her ragged appearance for the first time.
I was in a state of thankfulness and shock when I woke to find that she had been returned to us.
The passage of time that I’d been unconscious seemed like mere minutes to me, but I had missed a lot.
It didn’t matter to me what happened in the time I’d been unconscious since it ended with her back in my arms.
At least at the time, that’s all that mattered, followed by ensuring she fed and recovered her strength. Now, though? Now I was fucking raging at the sight of the dried blood marring her skin. The sight of her ripped dress hugging her slender hips left me feeling feral.
They had her in their grasp, and they tortured her. I failed to protect her.
“Elijah?” her gentle voice questioned as she drew to a stop in front of me, reaching up slowly to rest her small hand at the center of my chest.
Her eyes peered up with me, swimming with concern as the corner of her lips pinched closer together.
My fingernails dug into the meaty flesh of my palm as I curled them into tightly-balled fists at my sides. After everything she’d been through, and what they had threatened to do to her, how could she be concerned about me right now?
Despite her acknowledging that they hadn’t sexually abused her, the fact that they’d even alluded to it was just…
The thought shattered my heart—the very one I thought had died long ago—into a million jagged pieces.
She would spend the remainder of her life with the memory of not only the physical abuse she’d endured, but the fear of their sexual taunts and comments replaying in her head.
Leaning up onto the tips of her toes, she slid her hand from my chest to twine around my neck and pulled me down until our chests were pressed together.
“I’m here,” she breathed out, tucking her forehead into my neck and nuzzling against me. “I’m okay.”
I turned to kiss the top of her head but paused at the sight of her dark, wavy hair matted to her head in clumps.
It wasn’t the sight that stilled me, but the scent of her, that edged my rage even higher.
I didn’t care about the scents of sweat, salt water, or grime.
What I did care about was that I could smell them on her.
The subtle traces of Malakai’s men lingering on her skin and in her hair turned my stomach, and I needed it gone. I had to erase every essence of them from her body and out of her mind. I knew deep down the latter wasn’t necessarily possible, but I’d be damned if I didn’t try.
Without a word, I scooped her up, loving the way she wrapped her legs around my waist in an instant, not questioning what I was doing as she clung to me. After depositing her gently onto the vanity, I quickly raced to the door, pleased to find all the supplies I’d requested earlier waiting outside.
She remained on the vanity, lightly kicking her feet back and forth as she watched me bring bucket after bucket of steaming water in to fill the tub.
In a way, I was thankful for her silence, as odd as that seemed.
I wasn’t sure what I could manage to say to express my emotions in a way that didn’t end with me screaming or slamming my fist through a wall.
Losing my temper was the last thing I wanted to do after what she’d endured.
I had to find a way to contain my anger and aggression, but the only way I knew how to do that was with my silence, processing those emotions internally.
After the tub was filled properly, I brought over three different scented oils to choose from. Lifting them to her, I asked, “Which do you want in the water, love?”
A cheeky smirk tilted the corner of her mouth up, catching me off guard as my brows furrowed in question. “What?”
“You started calling me love, and I happen to love it.”
Her answer left me feeling contemplative about the new development. She was right, I had started calling her that. It simply felt natural, and right. I was falling in love with this beautiful, strong, compassionate woman before me. She was my love.
Leaning forward, she extended her hand and curled her finger in, motioning for me to come closer.
Scooting my feet forward until they were against the base of the cabinet, she motioned again and raised a brow.
Leaning my upper body down, she gripped the sides of my face and melded our lips together.
For a second, I lost myself in her lips.
In her. I could spend every second of the rest of my life with her lips on mine, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough time.
Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and my cock throbbed, demanding attention.
At least until the scent of them surfaced through the haze.
The reminder was like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped over me.
I couldn’t do this right now. What kind of man would I be to do this when she had been through such a traumatic experience? I needed to be here to take care of her, to console her if she needed that from me.
Ripping my head back, I took a few deep breaths and held up the oils once more. “Which one?”
Her sweet face hardened at my retreat, and a small growl rumbled from her. “Why did you break away from me, Elijah?”
I couldn’t answer that without the fragile dam holding my emotions at bay blasting itself to pieces. It wasn’t fair of me to emotionally dump all of this onto her. I needed to handle my shit on my own time.
My jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as my hands tightened on the glass bottles. “Which one?”
Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, telling me without words that she wouldn’t respond until I answered her.
This woman. She was infuriating, and yet I loved it. Her spine of steel—her ability to stand up for what she believed in and what she wanted—was one of the many small things that made Kyella the woman I admired and respected the most.
My nostrils flared as I forced myself to draw a deep breath, closing my eyes as I did. Counting back from five, I slowly let the air out of my lungs, chest slowly deflating until I got to zero.
“I can smell them on you, and I’m liable to lose my shit if I can’t wash away the blood and their stench from your skin and hair as soon as possible.” I admitted, glancing down at the bottles in my hand. A feeling of shame battered into me over the fact that I was having such an issue with this.
Before Kyella entered our lives, I prided myself on being stoic, always ready to handle any situation.
My mantra had been that I ruled my emotions and not the other way around.
But ever since this enchanting woman graced my presence, it was like I barely knew who I was anymore.
The lack of control I’d shown was laughable in itself.
I wanted to be strong for her. I wanted to be the pillar she knew she could come to and trust. But why would she do that if she thought I would have a conniption and blow up whenever something bad happened?
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed as she slipped from the cabinet and grabbed one of the bottles from my hands.
My eyes tracked her movements, shocked that she hadn’t really responded to my admission.
Pouring the oil, she ran her hand around in the water to mix it together.
After she was done with that, she crossed the few feet back to me and grabbed my hand, pulling it to rest on her chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The strong beating of her heart thrummed against my palm as she asked, “Do you feel that? I’m here.
I’m alive. I am okay. My experience with those vile men could never define the woman I am or the way I will live my life, just like I won’t allow my time with Malakai to dictate that either.
The only person in charge of who I am is me, and I choose to let love and happiness lead at the forefront of my mind. ”
I ruminated on her words, finding myself nodding in answer when I failed to find actual words to respond with. Was it possible that I was overthinking this, making this experience harder for her to heal and move on from?
All I wanted was to be sensitive to what she’d been through.
I wanted to show that I wanted—no, needed—to care for her.
But perhaps this whole time I’d been blind to the strength she possessed.
Hell, it practically radiated from her as she met my eyes and let her tattered, blood-stained dress fall to the floor, leaving herself bare before me.
Swiftly, she turned around and lowered herself into the tub, immediately dunking under the steaming surface and running her fingers through her hair.
It hit me then—the realization that this wasn’t my trauma, and I had no right to dictate how she healed or how she needed to act today.
Simply because I thought she wouldn’t be ready for affection and touch, didn’t mean that was actually the case.
The fact that I was brimming with rage and dying to pummel my hands into the faces of those who’d captured and harmed her until my knuckles cracked and bled on them, didn’t mean she was afraid of them or needed us to enact vengeance for her honor.
Guilt flooded me as the realization sank in that from the time I’d opened my eyes, finding her back with us, I’d been thinking about the situation entirely from my perspective.
“Fuck,” I hissed out seconds before her head surfaced above the water.
Grabbing the stool and supplies, I rested them on the vanity for easy reach as I settled in just behind where her head lay on the rim of the tub. Rubbing the scented lye soap into my hand, I rubbed it between my palms before reaching out to work it through her dark tresses.