Chapter 17 Allegra
ALLEGRA
Idon’t know what the hell just happened. I don’t know how we got to where we got after the crypt. After whatever the hell that was with Jet.
Cassian and I sit at opposite ends inside a giant tub filled with water so hot it could blister. Our arms are stretched along the edges, above the water, our knees are touching, and we are glaring. A war of eyes. A war of hearts.
What are you doing to me? I said it aloud.
He heard me. I don’t care. I don’t give a damn.
The way he looked at me after that, the way he never took his eyes off me?
Like he was furious. Furious with me? For Jet’s want?
Jet does want, I know that much. But is he also furious at himself?
Because he wants too. He wants to eat me alive.
It’s all right there, right in his brutal, beautiful eyes.
I recall Jet when he saw me down there in that crypt.
How he looked at me for a minute. How, without a thought, he stripped off his shirt to drape it over my shoulders.
I recall the scars on his body. He’s as big as Cassian.
As dark. As wicked, I know. But they’re so very different and I’m not sure if Jet’s wanting me has more to do with Cassian than me.
Cassian’s eyes narrow like he can read my mind.
“Why did you let him look at me?” I ask.
His eyes search mine. I hate his eyes. I hate how deceptive they are.
Hell, I hate him. I shift my gaze to the lines my nails scratched across one side of his face, the more prominent ones on his shoulders, down his chest. Five on one side, four on the other.
I touch my thumb to that nub of my pinkie finger.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“To be stripped and displayed between the two of you? Like I’m a piece of meat?”
“He’d already seen you.”
“Not like that he hadn’t. I don’t know what kind of rivalry you have going on between you, but I want no part of it.”
“Come now, Moth. You like the drama.”
I flip him off.
“He wants you,” he says flatly, watching for my reaction.
I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know how I feel about it.
I’m attracted to Cassian. Cassian, I want to hate fuck.
Cassian makes me want him even when I hate him.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Jet, I don’t know. Jet, I know nothing about.
But I do know his motives are not innocent. Not at all.
“Why did he say what he said?” I ask before I think about it.
From the look on Cassian’s face, he knows exactly what I mean, but it takes him a moment to rearrange his features into curiosity. “Why did he say what?”
“That you won’t fuck me anyway,” I ask, not ready to unpack the other part I overheard just yet. The part about sharing.
“How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Since the moment I woke up from all the racket of you two trying to decide who has a bigger dick.”
He chuckles at that, and for a moment, his eyes brighten like someone just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard.
But it’s just that single, lonely moment before that light is gone.
He stands up, water spilling off his huge body, olive skin glistening, water cascading over powerful muscles, the Reaper’s robe black as the darkest night.
And I hate that in that moment, after what we just did, my body begins to prepare itself for more.
My traitorous body wants more of Cassian Trevino. It can’t get enough.
Cassian stands looming over me, letting me take him in before stepping out of the tub.
He crosses the bathroom to where towels are lined on a heated rack.
I watch him walk away, the muscles of his back, his ass and thighs, like no man I’ve ever seen.
Not that I’ve seen many. My dad and brother in the summers maybe, Malek, which gross, but never have I seen a body like his.
Clocks lie like grave markers at the Reaper’s feet, two of them.
I know he’s holding another in his hand around Cassian’s front.
He finishes drying off and wraps the towel low around his waist. He checks the time like he might be late for something before taking a fresh towel off the rack and returning.
“Why three clocks?” I ask.
“What?”
I gesture with a nod of my head. “Two on your back like grave markers and one in his hand. Why?”
He considers me, eyes narrowing. “No reason.”
“Liar.”
“Come, Moth.” He lets the towel fall open and holds it out for me.
“I’m not done.”
“Water is getting cold, and we have somewhere to be.”
At that I look up at him. “Where do we have to be?”
“A dinner for a charity hosted by my stepfamily. You’ll get to see Jet.” He means to say it like a joke, but his muscles tense at the mention of his stepbrother’s name.
“Oh, well, you should have said so,” I say flippantly and stand too quickly, water splashing out of the tub.
I give him a smirk then turn my back to him planning to take the towel once he drapes it over my shoulders, but he doesn’t let it go.
Instead, he wraps it around me and when I jerk too hard, I slip.
He catches me, lifts me up out of the tub.
“Careful, Little Moth,” he whispers in my ear as I push against his chest to get free.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You keep asking me that.” He carries me into the bedroom and sits me down on the edge of the bed then proceeds to dry me gently until he’s crouched down before me, the towel draped around my waist as he dries my arms, my hands.
When he gets to the pinkie finger, he shifts his gaze up to mine and I’m not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at me or maybe the tenderness in his touch, but something inside my belly does a little flip.
“What happened when you figured out I’d leave you down there? Where did all your fight go?”
I tug at my hand. If Cassian Trevino is being tender, it’s because he wants something.
“You literally threatened to leave me in a fucking crypt. I was scared. I’m sure it’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, but human beings, those of us with actual feelings, get scared.”
He studies me, gives a little shake of his head. “It was more than that,” he says, ignoring my jab.
I study his eyes. What did he see in me down there? Yes, I was afraid. Terrified. How could he know what memories he triggered? What sensations I thought I’d locked up so tight I’d never have to feel them again.
He can’t. He’s guessing. That’s all. My secret is safe.
“Why did you leave me there so long?” I hear myself ask, my voice like glass. Too breakable. I hate myself for that. For shifting my gaze just slightly away, to his nose, his mouth. Anything but his eyes because they fucking undo me. They make me want to believe him. To believe in him.
Something twitches in his jaw and a beat passes before he answers. “I didn’t intend to. There was an incident.”
I meet his gaze. “What incident?”
He shakes his head. “It’s handled.”
“Oh, well then…”
“I didn’t intend on leaving you down there so long. Believe that.”
“But you did, so I don’t,” I say, watching his big hands wrap around mine. Watching how mine disappear inside his.
“Tell me about this.” He’s still talking about my missing finger.
He’s not stupid. And for all I know he’s cut off the fingers of little girls too except I know he hasn’t.
I know he wouldn’t. It takes a special kind of man, a true monster, to do that and Cassian may be a villain, but he’s not a monster.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Allegra,” he says as if having read my mind.
I shift my gaze from his hands to his eyes and as much as I try to channel my rage, my rebellion, my hate, the way he’s looking at me, I can’t because I think on some level, some stupid part of my brain wants to believe him.
Some stupid part of me wants to have those hands holding me.
Wants his arms around me, carrying me so easily, like my weight is nothing.
Like he can so easily protect me. Like he wants to protect me.
“I don’t want to go down there again,” I say with as little emotion in my voice as possible, but I hear how I sound, how like that fifteen-year-old girl locked in a room behind a steel door waiting for them to bring back her mother. Waiting in terror.
I look away, willing myself not to cry, not to let him see.
I think I should brace myself for some cruel comment, some insult.
A power play. But Cassian just keeps looking at me, his eyes so intent on mine that it’s hard to hold his gaze.
He must see that too because just as I feel the burn of tears, as the first of them wet my lashes, he straightens to stand.
“I won’t put you down there again. I promise, Allegra,” he says, his tone firm. Not mocking. Not anything. Just a promise made. He wraps the towel around me and pulls me to my feet. “Trust that.”
We’re so close, our hands between us, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
I search his eyes. What am I looking for? His soul. I’m searching for his soul because I want to believe him. I want desperately to believe him.
“Trust me, Allegra.”
My mind reminds me, though, that men lie. A lie is so easy to tell. When the men who love you can do terrible things to you, what will your enemies do?
I blink away. I don’t trust him. I can’t.
He clears his throat. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened to you.”
“I won’t.” I sound like a petulant child, I know.
His hands come to my chin, and he tilts my face up so I’m looking at him.
“My rebellious little Allegra. Always geared up to fight. What bastard taught you this is the way to protect yourself?” he asks with a sad half-smile like he expected my response, but he’s also sorry about it.
He releases me, steps away, checking his watch.
“Let’s get out of here. Pack a few things, whatever you need for one night and one day.
We’ll get you a dress for the dinner once we’re there. ”
“I hope Jet will like it,” I say, not sure why, because I don’t care about Jet, but often, my mouth works faster than my brain and it feels safest to put Cassian on the other side of this boxing ring.
His eyes narrow as he focuses on brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I don’t move. I stare up at him trying to read him. It’s impossible, though.
“Careful, Little Moth,” he finally says, eyes locking on mine again. “That’s a dangerous game to play.”