Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
ARIANA
O bsidian slides out of me and leads me through the manor by the hand, all while his lust spills down the insides of my thighs. It’s only now, after we’ve finished, that I’m worried and embarrassed that we might run into someone from the staff. I certainly wasn’t worried about it while he was fucking the life out of me.
Thankfully, we reach his room without seeing a soul. He doesn’t bother closing the door, going straight to the en suite, and turns on the shower. Concern swims in his gaze when his eyes meet mine.
“What’s wrong?” I step forward and rest my hand on his chest.
He pushes his hand through his soaked hair with a wince. “I was too rough with you. I’m sorry.”
“Obsidian, I’m fine.” I push back the sweaty hair that’s fallen over his forehead.
“No, I hurt you. You must be sore.”
“A little, but I liked it. If I didn’t, I would have asked you to stop.”
His gaze bounces around my face, unable to settle anywhere, but the pain in his eyes cuts me.
“Hey.” I bring both hands to the stubble on his cheeks and cradle his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I would have spoken up if I wasn’t into it. If I’m honest, it turns me on so much when you can’t control yourself around me. I’m not just saying that.” I tip his head down to see the truth of my words in my face.
Tears gather in the corners of his eyes. “If I hurt you… I couldn’t bear it, Ariana. Couldn’t bear it if I were that kind of a monster.”
Dropping my hands from his face, I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him as hard as I can. “You’re not a monster, Obsidian.”
His arms settle around me, and he nudges his face in the crook of my neck. “I don’t know what is about you, I can’t get enough.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold him for long minutes, my emotions running ragged in my chest and flaying me from the inside out. We may have made a deal that feelings wouldn’t be involved, but it’s clear to me now that was never going to be the case. Even if neither of us ever admits it, there’s more between us than an insane amount of sexual chemistry.
“Are you ready to get in the shower?” I eventually ask when steam fills the room.
He nods against the crook of my neck. “Yeah.” His voice cracks.
When I pull away, some of the pain in his eyes has dimmed, but he’s still locked in his head.
“C’mon.” I slide my hand in his and lead him inside the huge walk-in shower.
This is the first time we’ve showered together. It’s the first time I’ve showered with any man, and I treasure the fact Obsidian gets this first.
There’s more than one shower head, so we step under separate ones. The warm water relaxes my sore muscles and eases their fatigue. We’re both quiet, and as the silence stretches between us, my thoughts drift to something I was wondering earlier today.
“Have you ever initiated anyone into the club before?”
Obsidian’s head turns in my direction with a scowl. “Why would you ask that?”
I shrug. “Just wondering if this is a semi-regular Saturday night for you. Wondering how many women are at the Ritual Room because you brought them in.”
He breaks the distance between us and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, dipping his head so our eyes line up. “I’ve never invited another woman to join. And I never will again. You’re my first and only.”
When he says things like that, I wish I could stay here forever and love this man, but once he finds out why I’m here or what I’ve stolen from him, he won’t look at me like he is right now. As if I’m a woman he could love too.
I don’t bother asking the other question I was wondering—how many women there he’s slept with. I won’t like the answer, and I don’t want it to be my main focus the next time I’m down there.
Inching up to my tippy toes, I lick his wolf tattoo then place a light kiss on his neck. “Good answer.” I pick up the shampoo.
“Here, let me.” He waves his hand toward him.
I place the bottle in his hand and turn around. Seconds later, he massages shampoo into my hair, and a moan escapes me from his fingers kneading my scalp as the shower fills with his scent. He rinses the shampoo out of my hair and applies conditioner.
“Was tonight what you thought it would be?” he asks.
I’m not surprised he’s waited until my back is to him to ask. It’s a concern of his and shows his vulnerability. Something he guards with a thick concrete wall.
“I’m not sure I really knew what to expect. But my nerves went away faster than I thought. I don’t think I expected to be so turned on by everyone watching.”
His deep chuckle sounds from behind me as he finger-combs the conditioner through my hair. “Maybe you’re an exhibitionist.”
“Would that bother you?”
He places his hands on my shoulders, turning me around. “Ariana, this isn’t just about my sexual satisfaction. If there’s something you’re into, something you want to try, all you have to do is ask.”
I nod and smile. “All right, turn around while this soaks into my hair so I can shampoo yours.”
He does as I ask, and I pick up the shampoo bottle. I’m pouring the shampoo into my palm, my eyes fixated on his scars. I’ve felt them but never seen them so close up. He’s never told me how he got them, and I’m not going to push him—he’ll tell me when he’s ready. I’m not sure I have a right to know such intimate details about him given that I’m keeping my entire history from him.
Regardless, I place a kiss on one. He stiffens for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t turn around or tell me to stop, so I follow the path to the next one, then the next and the next. It’s my way of telling him that I care for all the parts of him, even the broken ones.
Once I’ve worshipped each round scar, I wash his hair. Neither of us speaks about my act, and we remain quiet, contemplative until we step out of the shower to dry off.
Obsidian invites me to spend the night in his bed, and as I curl up against his chest and let the steady thrum of his heart lull me to sleep, I only have one wish—to take his pain away.
When I wake sometime in the middle of the night, there’s a loneliness nestled in my chest, and I’m not surprised when my hand reaches to an empty spot next to me. Sure enough, when I open my eyes and roll over, his side of the bed is bare. The bed sheets are cold to the touch, so he’s been gone for some time.
I sit up, wondering if I should seek him out. Thinking back on how quiet and withdrawn he was earlier, I want to make sure he’s okay. But where to start looking? Could I find my way back to the secret garden? I’m not so sure. This manor is huge.
First, I go to my room to slide on sandals and put on shorts and a T-shirt. I was lucky earlier that no one came upon us, but I don’t want to risk it again. Then I make my way through the manor. I don’t find him, but I didn’t think I would.
As soon as I step outside into the dark, I regret not bringing my phone to use the flashlight. Fog swirls around my feet, the tendrils reminding me of hands rising from the earth like phantoms ready to drag me down. Suppressing a shiver, I’m thankful for the almost-full moon. The ivy-covered wall rises up in front of me almost out of nowhere, and the iron gate leading into the garden is ajar.
Please be here.
Suddenly, the memory of Obsidian in that ocean flickers to mind, and a flood of anxiety rushes through me. I don’t think he was so distraught that he’d consider ending his life, but there’s so much he still keeps from me. Showing weakness isn’t something he’s comfortable with.
My footsteps speed up, uncaring if I trip and fall. I need to set eyes on him and know that he’s okay. I rush through the gate and immediately look over to where I found him that night and breathe a sigh of relief at his figure sitting in the dark.
Thank God.
He doesn’t seem to hear me approach until I’m mere feet from him, but his face shows no surprise when his eyes meet mine.
“Hey,” I say in a quiet voice, afraid I’m disturbing him.
“Hey.”
“Everything okay?” I sit beside him and place a hand on his thigh.
Obsidian blows out a breath. “Just couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing.” He gives me a lame attempt at a smile, a forced one I’ve never seen before.
“Want to talk about it?”
His gaze drifts over to the spot where I’m assuming his mother’s lifeless body was discovered. “Not really, no.”
I pretend my heart isn’t cracking from him not trusting me, but I remind myself I’m not being open with him either.
We sit in silence for a long time, listening to the sounds of the night. What was once disturbing is now comforting. The mist at my feet, the man at my side, and the hanging moon overhead.
After some time, I want to draw him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Can I ask about the wolf tattoo? You told me why you got it on such a visible spot, but you never told me why a wolf.”
He gives me a resigned smile. “My mother coined each of her sons a different animal. I was the wolf. She said I was resilient, loyal with fierce instincts, and that I was territorial and would always look out for my pack.”
I didn’t know the woman, but I can understand exactly why she referred to him as such.
“Each of my brothers has their own tattoo in kind. You’ve probably noticed Asher’s.”
“The bear.”
“Yeah. Kol has a lion, and Nero a raven. I don’t know how she saw so much of who we were at such a young age.”
I grab his hand, and his palm swallows mine. “It’s nice that you still have memories of her. I have very few memories of my mother.”
He squeezes my hand and looks back at that spot again. He stands quickly. “I need to go for a ride.”
I have no idea where he wants to go in the middle of the night, but I don’t want to leave him alone when he’s feeling like this, so I stand and block out the fact he might never feel comfortable showing me his vulnerable side. “Lead the way.”
And he does. He takes us to a garage that’s separate from the main manor, one I didn’t know existed. When we’re inside, I walk toward his Rolls Royce, but he says, “This way.”
I stop in my tracks when he pulls a motorcycle helmet off a shelf and holds it out for me.
“A motorcycle?” My voice must highlight my fear because he walks toward me and places the helmet over my head.
“I take it you’ve never been on one before?” He adjusts the strap under my chin.
I shake my head, clenching my hands to still them.
“All you have to do is hold on to me tight and lean into the turns.” He fits his own helmet on his head and walks toward a sports bike. Obsidian straddles the bike and gestures for me to sit behind him.
My stomach is in my throat as I walk toward what I’m afraid will be my doom. Once I’m on, I wrap my arms around his middle and hold on as tightly as possible, not caring that we haven’t even moved an inch yet.
He starts the bike, then squeezes my hand as if in reassurance before we’re off. Obsidian takes it easy as we make our way off the property, but once we’re past the iron gates, we rocket down the road.
I squeeze my eyes shut, terrified, until he slows to take a corner, and I do as he says, leaning into the turn. Once we’ve straightened, we burst forward, accelerating at a pace I didn’t know was possible, and I realize this is another one of Obsidian’s death-defying efforts to forget the past and live in the moment, to feel alive with adrenaline surging through his veins.
Hasn’t he figured it out yet? No matter how fast this bike can go, he can’t outrun his demons.