42. Regret
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Regret
Igently scrubbed Cassiel’s back, scanning his skin under the three candles I had lit.
Droplets of onyx blood trickled down the pale flesh stained with withering.
The dark lines stretched so far and wider than before.
It had progressed as I lay bound on the bed.
I watched it happen throughout the fresh candlewick burning until what was left was embers.
All the attempts at waking him had been for naught.
I’d thrashed, kicked, bucked, but nothing woke him, and none of it helped me loosen the bindings.
As soon as he woke, we found a puddle of black blood beneath him, dried lines trickling down his sides.
He’d promptly gotten up and turned the water on, then came to untie me with an abrupt, ‘Bathe me.’
He had been contemplative, quiet, since he’d sank into the water, and he kept watching me in such an odd manner. I shuffled to the side so I was not within his view.
“I was unkind to you many times,” he breathed, head tilted back. “Worse.”
A knot formed in my throat. “I cannot deny it.” Instead of it being an accusation, sadness seeped into my tone.
The strain on his face had deepened, and his cheekbones jutted sharply. I had not realized that the stain beneath his eyes had become so prominent. His eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. Candlelight flickered on the surface of his eyes.
“Amara . . .” I paused from running the soap bar over his shoulders. His features twisted with strain. “I . . . regret hurting you.” His throat bobbed. “And I will never forget what I have done.”
Upon closing his eyes, moisture trickled from the corners. Breathing turned difficult. His emotion radiated toward me.
“I do not know what to say,” I whispered.
“There is nothing needed.” He raised his head.
“If I do not claim you, you will continue withering.”
“And in my death, I would not be able to keep you tethered to life.” He raised his head and turned to look me in the eye.
“Take this eve to think about it. If your answer remains the same, we will move forward in spite of my . . . reservations.” Despite me not saying I cared for him.
“I will live with your loathing if I must.”
Words crowded, refusing to escape. Things like: I do not loathe you and stop being a fool.
I jerked my chin down in a nod instead.
His head tilted, and eyes squinted. “Someone approaches.”
I set the bar aside and dried my hands on the bottom of my gown. A knock came at the door, and I walked toward it.
Tabby stood on the other side.
“Oh, I am sorry to have interrupted.” She eyed the damp dress. I waved her off. She held out a brown box with a second one stacked on top. “Clothes for tonight. We would like you both to attend.” She smiled wide. “We will be hosting a dinner in both of your honors. A celebration of sorts.”
“There is no need—”
“We have not had many things to be excited for. Consider it a gift to us.” Tabby’s kind eyes didn’t waver.
Archer’s lumbering shadow shuffled, bringing my focus to him leaning on the opposite wall.
“I will be there,” I said. She didn’t miss the pointed ‘I’. With how weak Cassiel was, he would not want to attend gatherings. When he was well, he wanted it even less.
“Be ready for supper. I will send someone to fetch you.”
“I will be ready,” I promised.
“I will let you return to your bath.” She wiggled an eyebrow at me.
A laugh escaped, and I shut the door on her retreating back. Cassiel watched me return to him, head canted a bit to the side.
“They invited us to a gathering for supper. They are honoring you.” I set the boxes on the edge of the bed.
“For being a fool?”
Self-deprecation?
I eyed the smirk on his lips and took hold of the soap to return to running it across his chest. I slid lower, avoiding the thick cleave at his breastbone.
It no longer bled so obviously. Continuing around it, I scrubbed the black stained skin.
Even with the withering, his length swelled to rise from the water.
“I see that most of you continues to work properly,” I mused, heat rising on my face.
He took my arm that was holding the soap and dragged my hand down with a smile hinting on his mouth.
“There is no existence where I will not be ready for you,” he said huskily. “I would have to be dead.”
He trailed his fingertips over my arm, gentle, gliding caresses that roused goose flesh.
“You should not strain yourself,” I whispered.
“I will not be the one straining, bondmate. Bare yourself.” His husky words left me mute.
He took the soap from my grip. With shaking hands, I reached for the buttons of the dress I wore, slowly undoing the strip down to my waist. It fell open, baring my breasts. I shrugged, and it pooled on the floor.
“We should not be doing this . . .” I said it even as I tossed my leg over the tub and dropped inside.
Cassiel clasped my waist and pulled me before him. I tilted forward into the warm water. Cassiel mustered the strength to grab hold of my hips and drag me onto his shaft. He prodded at my entrance. Trembles struck the bloom in my belly. A hot, needy feeling that only Cassiel had ever kindled.
I rolled my hips, winding down on his knot. Cassiel inhaled and let out a short groan. Water lapped against my breasts as I rolled my hips into a steady pace.
“Does it hurt?” I ran fingertips over the thin spidering lines along his shoulders.
“No,” he said in a husky tone.
He pushed his hips up, thrusting into me. My mouth opened in a gasp, my toes curling. I lowered, hovering over his mouth.
His gaze brimmed with emotion, eyes forming crescents. “I should have loved you from the moment I saw you.”
My channel fluttered around his length, and I sank down until his knot entered. We claimed each other then with frantic touches. So wholly that nothing existed beyond us.