Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bella
Warm fingers move gently up my sides, and the low rumbling growl beneath my ear can only be described as a purr.
His fingers move lazily across my ribs, making me shiver as heat dances across where they graze.
Moving, I blink. My entire body aches in a good way, and I am comfortable despite lying on Latham’s chest, which is extremely hot.
His fingers move across my clammy skin again.
My skin glistens with moisture as perspiration coats my skin.
My hair is drenched and sticking to my face.
Turning my head, I look up to see Latham staring off vacantly, his eyes completely black, yet his fingers continue to move gently across my skin.
The look on his face is otherworldly, like looking into a bottomless well.
For once, instead of fear creeping in at the look on his face, I want the meaning behind it.
The tortured look on his face is like he is watching his deepest fears come true.
I know because I have seen it a million times; it is the same dark look I’d caught in the mirror a few times when I had to put the mask back on, hide the parts of myself I truly couldn’t handle hiding anymore.
The parts I longed to set free but knew I couldn’t because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to go back to being Isobella.
No, I would want my identity back. I would want to set Arabella free, and once free, I knew I would give in.
I would give in to whatever awaited me for her freedom.
Even if it was my life, even if it meant being sold off to whoever my brother agreed to give me to all those years ago.
So like always, that small peek at who I once was was stuffed back, and the mask came out, shielding me from myself, keeping me safe because what I feared most was being me.
Watching Latham, I am beginning to realize he is wearing a mask too, yet he is so much better at keeping the person behind it hidden.
Better at his persona than I am. His secrets are ingrained so deeply that it is like they don’t exist. He wears armor like a classy suit.
Yet now, seeing him like this, I know that armor would be stained with blood, but I want more; I want what is behind the armor, behind the darkness that surrounds and consumes him. I want him. I want all of them.
Latham murmurs softly, the word Myra slipping from his lips. He says it almost like a prayer, but I can also hear the anguish behind it.
Reaching up, I touch his face, and the reaction is instant.
The walls are put back in place, and I suddenly find myself on my back beneath him.
He moves so quickly that he knocks the wind out of me, and the movement is a blur, his hand around my throat as he blinks, trying to get his bearings back.
No, pressure to cut off my air more to just hold me in place, like he is using me to anchor himself.
“Arabella!” he growls, removing his hand and dropping his head against my chest as he breathes deeply. His overly hot body is pressed between my legs, and I realize his body heat is what’s heated the room up and why I am sweating.
“Where did you go?” I ask him.
“Where didn’t I go?” he rambles, making my brows furrow.
“I don’t understand.”
“That would be a good thing. You would run if you knew,” he says before pushing off his arms to sit up, but I wrap my legs around his waist, tugging him back.
“Arabella…” he says.
I love the way my real name rolls off his tongue, but I can hear the warning behind it. Latham unwraps my legs from around his waist before kneeling between mine. His face is covered in shadow, the light filtering in not quite reaching his face.
“Who is Myra?” I ask him, and he turns his head to the side, watching me.
“You whispered her name,” I tell him, and he scrubs a hand down his face.
“She was my first love.”
“What happened to her? You sounded sad, the way you said her name.”
“She died.” He pauses for a second, just watching my reaction. “She was human too.”
“She died of old age?”
Latham shakes his head. “No, I killed her.”
“You killed her?”I ask, not expecting that answer.
He nods, looking away. “You won’t suffer her fate. He won’t get to you as he did her.”
“He?” I ask, confused, though the idea of him killing her makes my stomach twist.
“Are you afraid of me?”
I shake my head at his question.
“You know I can tell when you lie.”
I chew my lip, unable to meet his gaze.
“If you don’t want the answer, don't ask. I won’t lie to you. I expect the same from you.”
“Do you want to kill me?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asks, and I look down at my hands, picking at my nails.
“We all want to kill you. It is instinct. That doesn’t mean we will. Myra died because I trusted the wrong person.”
“But you said you—”
“I killed her,” he whispers, cutting me off. “Because I did. I tried to bring her back. She wasn’t the same, so I had no choice but to kill her.”
“Who did you trust her with?” I ask when Blaine stirs beside me.
A sleepy smile plays on his lips, and Latham climbs off the bed, heading toward the bathroom.
“Morning,” Blaine whispers before kissing my lips. He smiles against my lips before grabbing the inside of my thigh and dragging me closer to him.
“Hmm…” He gnashes his teeth at my lips before nipping at my jaw, his hand trailing up my thigh to the apex of my legs, and I moan softly when his fingers brush my swollen lips, his fingers prodding gently while he nips and sucks my skin. I hiss when he works a finger inside me.
“Too sore?” he whispers against my breast before kissing my nipple.
Yet arousal coils within me and leaves me aching for him. He chuckles before moving between my legs, settling his weight over me.
“Blaine…” I breathe.
“I will be gentle,” he whispers against my skin as his lips travel down my body, nipping and sucking.
I can hear the shower running and sigh. I really want to know what happened to the woman Latham used to love, but that thought vanishes when I feel Blaine’s tongue run from my ass between my folds before flicking over my clit. My back arches, and I grip his hair.
Blaine chuckles. “I can stop.”
I grip his hair tighter, shaking my head.
“I didn’t think so,” he growls before plunging his tongue inside me.