25. Arkadiy
25
ARKADIY
T he popped buttons I anticipated seeing in Mara’s shirt occur to mine when I dress in a hurry. I stuff the crinkled hem into the trousers I pull on sans underwear before I stuff my sockless feet into the shoes I toed off on my way to the shower.
I wasn’t showering to imbed more of Mara’s scent into my skin. I was trying to man the fuck up. The only time I ever achieve that is in a bathroom, so I was hopeful a ten-minute head soak would pull my head out of my ass enough to stop me from doing something stupid that would hurt Mara.
Unintentional or not, that was never my aim.
I want to protect her, not cause her more harm.
I may have lost the chance now.
I’m out of the servants’ exit in under thirty seconds and racing down the corridor, my feet thumping as much as my fist when I threw it into Paarth’s face.
I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Violence is rarely the solution, but fury engulfed me when I noticed how Paarth was towering over Mara while tears glistened in her eyes and she pleaded for more than her virtue.
Tillie was featured multiple times during her begs.
As was another name I tried to pry from her the night we met.
I don’t know the whereabouts of Dr. Babkin, but I do know one thing.
When I find him, he’s a dead man.
The anger in Darius’s eyes when he notices my approach announces that Paarth’s punishment is far from over. The promise in his narrowed gaze frees me to follow the direction of his head nudge. He jerks it toward a pre-war elevator I didn’t know this building had until now.
Mara’s sniffles quieten when my hand shoots between the steel doors, stopping them from closing. I move to the far left of the elevator almost too small for two before entering, ensuring there is plenty of space for her to exit if she so wishes.
The tightness in my jaw slackens when she doesn’t immediately flee. She hogs the panel like one push of a button will pop open the doors, her eyes facing the front.
I hate her shakes when the elevator doors close before it commences its descent. They cut me to pieces, but since they couldn’t create one-tenth of the damage already done to my body, I accept them without protest before encouraging more.
“Don’t touch me-me,” Mara pleads when she hears my steps, the quick return of her stutter doubling my fury.
“I’m not going to touch you.” She doesn’t respond, but she must believe me, because she doesn’t issue another plea for distance for my next steps. “I just want to offer you support.”
“I’m okay. I-I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Stop saying you are fine. That man tried to brutalize you.” I can barely get the words through my clenched teeth, but I continue since I know she needs to hear this. “That is not something you need to be okay with. What he did to you is not okay.”
“He di-didn’t do an-anything.”
“He did,” I retort, knowing not all our conversation centers on tonight’s incident. “And I believe you, Mara. I know you’re telling the truth.”
Her sob bounces off the elevator panel before stabbing my heart, fatally wounding it.
It is so familiar, so horrifying, yet so much better than the silence I endured last time.
“Why do you b-believe me?” Sheer bewilderment lengthens her curt reply.
“Because you have no reason to lie. Especially not about something like this. Why would anyone fabricate something like this?” Her chest stops rising and falling when I stand close enough for my breaths to bound off her nape. “Breathe, Mara. I’m not going to touch you. You’re okay.” My words are as shaky as my hands when I lower them to my sides. “I’ll keep my hands balled at my sides the entire time.” Her heart rate increases when her eyes shift to the side for the quickest second, and then her shoulders roll forward. “You only need to lean in if you need me. If you don’t need me, don’t move. I just want to be near so I can catch you if you fall.”
A shuddery breath whistles between her teeth when the warmth of my body calms her shivers.
“You’re okay,” I say, stepping nearer. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again . ” My last word comes out with a soundless sigh when she adjusts her position so her temple rests an inch above my heart.
She isn’t falling. Her legs are remarkably strong considering how badly she is shaking.
She is wordlessly accepting my offer.
“I won’t touch you,” I pledge again, giving her the final push to rest her head on my pectoral muscle.
The flattening of her ear on my chest means there’s no chance of hiding my body’s response to her closeness, so I don’t bother trying to conceal it. I let her hear the panic tearing me in two, hopeful it will announce that this is as hard for me as it is for her.
As she stares up at me with those eyes—those goddamn eyes that talk directly to my soul—she blinks back the tears that are dangerously close to falling.
The longer she stares, the more my anger simmers.
Revenge isn’t on my mind right now.
Comfort is.
“You’re okay,” I promise. “I’ve got you.”
Mental torment is exhausting. I know this firsthand, so I’m not surprised to sense Mara’s struggle not to close her eyes when we reach the underground parking level. Her blinking lengthens as her muscles loosen, but instead of tugging her close, forcing contact, I select the floor for the penthouse before jabbing the close door button.
We ride the elevator to the penthouse and back three times before Mara’s body finally gives up its fight to stay awake. Her head rolls until her nose buries between my pecs and her legs buckle, leaving me no choice but to wrap my arms around her.
“It’s okay,” I assure her when she stiffens for the quickest second. “You’re okay. You are safe.”
Her shoulders remain tight for almost thirty seconds. She isn’t the only one struggling. In her fright, she dug her nails into my hip. Their piercings won’t produce anything close to the scars years of abuse peppered my skin with, but it takes my fucked-up head a lot longer than thirty seconds to realize that.
My heart hurts from how fast it is beating, and my molars are close to being grinded to shreds.
Needing to sit before I fall, I inch us toward the far wall of the elevator.
“I’ll keep my back to the wall,” I promise. “The exit will not be blocked at any time by anyone.” Mara’s lashes are touching her somehow-tear-free cheeks again, but I continue talking so she knows she isn’t in any danger. “We’re going to rest here for a little bit until you’re either strong enough to walk or trust me enough to carry you.”
A ball lodges in my throat when she whispers for the second time tonight, “I trust you.”
She shouldn’t.
I don’t trust myself, especially not after what I faced today, but the thought of her trust and the ease of its achievement swells my chest with pride.
After pressing my nose to the scent that has kept me captivated from day one and inhaling deeply, I say, “We don’t need to go anywhere right now. We can sit here until you feel safe.” And until I’ve stopped reeling over the fact that someone is touching me and I’m not freaking out.
The media didn’t solely heighten my playboy title to sell magazines. It was because a reporter learned about my requirement for Rafael to bound all my bed companions before I entered the room.
Touch in any way is usually a deal breaker for me. I don’t care who you are or how much damage you could inflict on my career, if you break my sole rule, our exchange is immediately ended, and you’re bombarded by a team of twenty lawyers who will remind you of the strict non-disclosure agreement you signed before you were invited into my realm.
I can’t do that this time around. For one, I removed the NDA from Mara’s contract before handing it to Rafael to administer. And two, I instigated the contact.
I need it.
Since I can no longer see her eyes, I need to feel her pulse, to acknowledge it as a sign of life.
I need her touch, even though it scares the living fucking shit out of me.