Chapter 45
Louhi
Until Sean, I’d never been in a situation where I required any semblance of aftercare, but I need this now.
I need him. He senses that, too, because he brushes a hand through my hair before unhooking the chains and releasing me.
He scoops me into his arms as we collapse on the bed, firmly pressing my head to his chest.
Where I speak a language of calculated violence and ruthlessness, Sean’s native tongue is physical pain. Torment flows freely from his hand. But where it’s brutal for others, it’s become a healing balm for me. To see him transform into the dark, savage man he becomes is beautiful, magnificent even.
There’s no human being alive that I find myself able and willing to trust more than him. Relying on Sean has caused me to do all manner of new things lately. Like allowing him to break me or tapping into the softer, more empathetic side of myself. Who have I become? Perhaps I should see a doctor…
“Did I go too far?” He palms my cheek; I lean into his touch.
Craning my neck to look up at him, I shake my head. My throat is dry and tacky. I swallow hard before answering hoarsely, “I liked it.”
I enjoyed every bloody minute of what he inflicted.
It wasn’t the excruciating discomfort that I necessarily thrived on, but the darkness that consumed his body and the way he got off on doling out the torture.
Pain and pleasure danced together, intertwining themselves so seamlessly that I had no idea where the hurt ended and the bliss began.
His eyes glimmer, and my closed lips edge up at the corners. I drop against Sean’s burly, muscled body once more, tucking my head into the crevice of his neck.
I hum contentedly as his arm curls around me and his warm hand hovers over my toned, empty abdomen. We haven’t discussed this yet, and I’m sure Sean hasn’t asked because he doesn’t want to push me. I can wait until you’re ready. That’s what he told me at Exile Island when he’d originally asked.
Shadows swirl in every corner of the dark room as I take a deep breath.
“When I was seventeen, I had some fibroids that were causing problems—a lot of problems. My parents had been gone for several years by then, and Mercer was my legal guardian. After nearly a year of appointments and procedures, the doctors said my best option was to have my uterus removed. Mercer was a godsend after my parents died, but never more than when I was going through that.”
Sean’s thumb draws lazy circles over my skin, and his touch grounds me.
“I wish that was the end of the story, but as if being seventeen and losing my reproductive system wasn’t awful enough, I woke up in the middle of the surgery.
I was only conscious for a few minutes, but I could hear and feel everything.
I couldn’t scream at them that I was awake either because of the tubes. ”
My eyes shutter, and I take another deep breath, adding, “It’s called anesthesia awareness, and it’s quite rare, but it was…
horrifying. I was staring into the bright lights of the operating theater with doctors and nurses milling around like it was no big deal that my insides were being removed.
I remember every bloody detail of those few minutes.
When they realized that I had woken up, they were clearly as scared as I was, and it’s that fear that I can still smell sometimes. ”
His voice is rough as he comments, “That’s why you freaked out in the infirmary.”
“Yes. I’ve struggled with doctors ever since.
To make matters worse, the recovery was brutal, compounded by reliving the entire experience every time I closed my eyes.
It was too much for a teenage girl to handle, and I lost myself.
I started spiraling. Things got…bad. It felt like I had nothing left to lose, and it was at the bottom of that pit of despair that Mercer suggested that he start training me so that I could take back my power.
Once I decided that I’d never be a victim again, I became a weapon no one could wield but me.
Mercer and I trained, sparred every day, and I got so good that I ended up enrolling at a training facility.
That’s where I learned everything Mercer couldn’t teach me. ”
On instinct, my hand floats down to my lower abdomen where my uterus would be if I still had one.
Sean’s hand dwarfs mine as he slides his over the top.
My heart seizes as I glance down at our joined hands that are wedged between our bodies.
I’ve laid my palm here a thousand times, but seeing Sean’s hand hovering there has a choked sob threatening to break free.
I grit my teeth and breathe through the heavy emotions.
“Did you want kids?” he rumbles into my ear.
“No.” I’m not the maternal type and never have been.
I haven’t missed my uterus. Still, it hurt to lose a part of my body in the same way losing a leg or a kidney would leave behind a noticeable gaping hole in your life.
Navigating that at such a young age didn’t make things easier.
“What about you? Have you ever wanted to be a father?”
He’s silent for a second. “No, but I never had the heart to tell my mom that. The idea of passing along my penchant for pain scares me, and I wouldn’t want my child to see me like that.”
I’d be a liar if I said that wasn’t a relief. Sean and I truly were made for each other, carved from the same stone.
“Was there another option for you?”
“I don’t think so.” Lifting my chin, I meet his gaze, and there’s a darkness swirling there that I don’t recognize.
He appears as though he’s in agony, and my hand coasts up his arm until I cup the side of his neck as he stares down at me.
“We’re all broken, Sean. It’s okay to show me your fractured pieces, too. ”
Wordlessly, he dips his head to mesh our mouths together, and I wonder if he can taste the truthful words on my tongue.