Thirty Kassen
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
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I’D AGREED TO DO something I didn’t know if I had the strength to deliver.
Terror siphoned through me. I didn’t want to hear her first question.
I needed time. I needed distance and space, and why the fuck was the night suddenly burning up with connection?
Why couldn’t I breathe without her scent flowing into my lungs?
Why couldn’t I look at her without my entire body hardening?
It took fucking everything not to give in to the screaming in my heart and take her.
She’s mine.
I wanted so fucking much to believe that, to deserve that.
But if I told her what I was, what I’d done, it would be over.
Panic made my thoughts scramble.
I was right when I’d believed I was schizophrenic.
I was even more sure now.
That was why my mind sought emptiness in brief flashes. Why one moment, I wanted to be vulnerable and open with her, and the next, I wanted to shove her away from me and keep her tied up in the dark.
I couldn’t cope, and all these steps toward boundaries I wasn’t brave enough to cross were pushing me into sporadic forgetfulness.
Fuck, I was weak.
I didn’t want to have such splits in my psyche. I didn’t want to be black and monstrous, craving her cries as they somehow healed mine, all while drowning beneath shyness and curiosity, wanting so fucking much to know her.
To answer her questions and ask so many of my own. To actually want to remember what she told me and imagine a world outside of this valley.
I’d trapped her body, but I hadn’t been allowed access to her mind. And I wanted to. Christ, how I wanted to.
Fear made me snappish, and I placed a none-too-gentle hand on the crown of her head, pushing a little too hard. “Duck under. Get wet.”
She shivered. Her skin reacted with goosebumps. Clear evidence she was as aroused as me—or was it fear? Would she be wet if I dipped my hand between her legs? Did she know how throbbingly hard I was while kneeling behind her?
Maybe it wasn’t just me suffocating in this strange and scary night.
Suffering seemed inevitable at this point. Whenever we were close, we reacted. It didn’t matter if we were fighting or ignoring one another; our bodies didn’t seem to care about our words or worries.
Mine definitely didn’t. All it cared about was Gemma was created from the same molecules as me. Our blood was destined. Our bones were fated. That bond had happened against my control. It’d happened the very fucking moment I’d met her.
It was just the other shit I kept ruining that kept us apart.
She allowed me to push her underwater, drenching her hair and giving me time to choke on an exhale without her hearing how scared I was.
My mind relived our kiss from before.
How I’d slipped my tongue into her mouth and almost collapsed at her feet.
I’d kissed countless guests in countless areas, yet I’d never been completely undone by anyone else.
She didn’t taste like anything on earth.
She was rich and sweet and good. Her kindness had a flavor.
Her sweetness had a scent. Everything about her drowned my senses, and I wanted her.
Goddammit, I wanted her.
Don’t drown her then, you fool.
Ripping my hand away from her head, she shot back to the surface, wiping her face free from sheeting water.
Her presence, her trust—it all punched me right in the chest.
Gemma had always affected me. From that very first trespass—I’d vibrated with hunger, hatred, and hope. I’d felt that kick. That belief. That unsurpassable knowledge that she was different.
So why couldn’t I accept that? Why did it scare me so fucking much?
“What’s your favorite food?” she asked softly, ripping my attention to her and making me laugh in a weird, lost kinda way.
“My favorite food? That’s your first question?”
She turned and looked at me, her face absolutely stunning in the dark.
Her hair floated on the surface while her body remained submerged.
The shadows of fire danced over her cheekbones, the silver of moonlight twinkled over her brow, and the refracting blues of the water made her eyes glow bright with hazel caution.
And fuck me, she looked totally untouchable—a fallen star sent to torment me. The same star that bounced and blazed in my heart.
I swallowed as my body hardened to the point of pain. “I...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you...do you remember your life before you were brought here?”
I paused, letting such heavy words drop into the fire beneath her.
My head pounded, and nausea swirled in my gut as I forced myself to reply. “Not really, no.”
She was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “Do you remember your parents? Your old home?”
Needing to do something, to outrun my disastrous memories and avoid her question, I squeezed the shampoo bottle and lathered my hands with papaya-smelling bubbles. Gathering her hair, I sank my fingers into the damp thickness, massaging her scalp.
“Oh, good God.” She trembled and arched under my hands.
Smugness filled me, pride that her nipples hardened to peaks and her breath feathered with need. “Has anyone ever done this for you?”
She shook her head, moaning quietly as I continued to comb soapy fingers through her hair. It seemed she’d forgotten about her interrogation for now.
“Have you been with many men?” I asked, my hands tightening against my will, holding her firm.
Jealousy roared through me even as I tried to get myself under control.
Why the hell had I asked that? I shouldn’t care.
She’d had a life. So had I. Did it matter that hers seemed so much better than mine?
She stilled, and I took her silence to duck her under again to rinse away the papaya bubbles.
When she broke the surface, she whispered, “No one like you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I swallowed back self-hatred.
“I’m not exactly treating you the way you ought to be treated.
If I knew others had done what I’ve done...
” My hands curled into fists, splitting the cuts I’d earned from punching the library’s walls.
The pain burned as my blood oozed and blended with the water. “I’d have to rip them apart.”
She mumbled something under her breath.
“What?”
She waved her hand under the water while I poured conditioner into my palm. “I said you’re treating me rather nicely right now.”
Oh, you have no fucking idea. I’m going to worship you.
My eyes skidded down her bareness, lingering on her breasts and pussy beneath the water. She still didn’t know how deeply she’d broken me tonight. How much I wanted to apologize. How much I hungered for her.
“How many were there...in your family?” She stiffened under my hands as if she was afraid I’d snap and not answer. “I’ve seen the single beds all lined up, and I’ve listened to you calling their names in your sleep, but...I don’t know for sure.”
Maintaining my attention on running the slippery conditioner through her strands, I kept my memories firmly at bay. “Eight. Nine, including me.”
She sank with sadness. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
I shrugged. “They’re free now. At least...I hope they are.”
She looked over her shoulder, her eyelashes sparkling with water and moonlight, a little wrinkle between her brows showing that she cared. She cared a lot, and that was yet another fist to my totally ruined heart. “Why did you never leave to find them?”
I flinched, schooling myself not to cringe from recollections but instead gift them to this selfless, wonderful girl. “I had to stay to ensure they were safe.”
“Safe from who?”
“The men who ran this place.”
“But I thought...” She licked her lips, dragging my attention there and making my belly snarl to take her. “I thought you’d killed them.”
I froze. “What? How did you—?”
She ducked low. “Your nightmares...that first week after your fall. You mentioned killing the guests...and a man named Storymaker. Plus, I’d already guessed you’d done something like that when you marched me out with the shovel to that barren spot in the woods.
It had the aura of a graveyard.” She flinched.
“I’m sorry for accusing you of killing your family that day. I didn’t know—”
“Wait.” I felt fucking sick. “You’re apologizing to me for the day I marched you out with the full intentions of ending you?”
She snorted under her breath. “Nuts, huh?”
“Who are you?”
Her eyes softened. “I think you already know who I am.”
I do.
You’re mine.
You’re everything I fucking need and everything I don’t deserve.
You were born for me.
I cleared my throat, muttering, “And you know who I am. You know I’m a murderer, yet you let me touch you.” I dropped my fingers from her hair. “I don’t understand how you can be near me, let alone let me put my hands on you.”
“I can because they deserved death. A thousand deaths.” Reaching for me, her wet, warm hand clenched around my unbroken forearm.
“They deserve to rot in hell after what they did to you and your family. You care, Kas. That’s been blindingly obvious since I met you.
You’ve turned off most of your empathy. You’ve been alone for so long that you struggle to remember how to be human.
But...I know you care. I wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t. ”
I couldn’t tear my eyes off where she touched me. Willingly touched me. “Seems you know more about me than I know about you.” My voice was rough and full of cracks.
She shook her head, sending her hair dancing on the water. “Not nearly enough.”
My mouth went dry as she studied my face with such compassionate eyes.
Once again, the air thickened until it was syrup and sex. I didn’t know how much longer I could prevent myself from touching her. I was dying with it. Utterly starving.
“What else do you want to know?” I muttered, cursing her questions but not wanting her to pull away.
“Everything,” she breathed. “Every scar, every nightmare. I want to know what you’ve buried inside. I want to know if I can save—”
I shut her up with a kiss.