Chapter 38 #2
They lead me to the edge of the porcelain tub with gold clawfoot legs that dig into the rough dirt floor. I’m not sure how I’m not going to be covered in dirt again the second I exit the bath, but the closer I get, the more the bath draws me into it.
My back screams at me; my body is deliciously sore from both men stretching me. I want nothing more than to sink under the warm water.
Together, they help me step into the water. The instant my legs hit the water, I know I made the right decision. We need this bath. We need to feel human again. We need this to fight.
The water even seems to soothe my aching back, but I want more. I let go of my body until I’m sinking completely under the water. For a moment, I’ve forgotten everything. Everything that has happened, will happen, and the pain that I’m sure I’ll have to endure.
Hands grab my biceps, yanking me up above the surface.
“Lumi!” their voices cry out.
I exhale a sharp breath. “I’m fine.”
“Fuck, don’t do that to us. We thought you were trying to kill yourself again,” Ambrose says.
“Sorry, it was just so pleasant, I guess I forgot that I might need to breathe.”
Ambrose looks to Nyx and then takes a deep breath.
“I’ll get out in another minute. I don’t want the water to get cool before you two have a chance to get in.”
Nyx pushes me gently back into the water. “No, we haven’t gotten to wash you yet. And we don’t care if the water is warm or not.”
“I’ll be able to use enough magic to warm the water at least for my own bath,” Ambrose says.
Nyx rolls his eyes. “I’m cold-blooded. I prefer cold anyway.” And then he looks at Ambrose expectantly.
Shampoo and a bar of soap appear.
I blink, not believing that Ambrose’s magic is back, even if it’s controlled. Could I do that? Could I summon an object? Create one from the void?
“Yes,” Ambrose answers in my mind.
“How? I still don’t understand how it’s possible. I’m almost positive that both my parents were just wolf shifters. And I—magic is…”
“Scary, I know. But it can also be beautiful. It can be healing. It can be more than you ever imagined it to be.”
“I’m terrified to use it. I don’t know what it means if I do…”
“One step at a time. Just take everything, one step at a time. We’ll both be here for you, every step of the way,” he says.
I smile.
Nyx looks at me intensely, but doesn’t speak. If he heard our conversation, he doesn’t add to it. He takes the bottle of shampoo as he moves behind me in the tub. And then his hands go to work, lathering my hair.
I moan, my chest rising and falling in sharp breaths as he scrubs my hair.
“Why does that feel so good?”
His lips brush against the shell of the ear. “Because it’s me touching you, and not your mate. And deep down, you like me better than him.”
Ambrose huffs, grabbing the bar of soap, and takes my hand in his as he rubs it up my arm and over the swell of my breast.
Another soft moan purrs out of me.
“She likes me far better, asshole,” Ambrose says.
I roll my eyes at how ridiculous they are both acting. But I don’t stop them. I let them bicker as they take turns washing my hair, my body, taking special care to make sure my breasts and between my legs were clean.
Them antagonising each other doesn’t stop. But neither does the gentleness in which they touch me. The way they study me, as if they are trying to test me to see if anything sparks a memory about what happened.
I close my eyes. “Tell me.”
“What?” Ambrose stops mid-pouring of water onto my breasts.
“Tell me what happened. Or better yet, show me in your memories.”
Ambrose and Nyx exchange heavy glances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ambrose says at the same time that Nyx says, “No.”
“You aren’t fooling me. The bickering and taunting each other is back because you both survived a shared trauma. One that you want to forget. You’re both trying to go back to the relationship you had before, where you were both fighting over who had the bigger dick.
“And two, you are both scared to death to really touch me. Terrified that Nyx’s mind control dream is going to wear off and I’m going to remember what happened.”
Silence stretches between the three of us.
“Please, tell me,” I beg, quietly but assuredly of them.
More silence.
“Ambrose?” I ask.
Pain reflects in his eyes, as moisture wells.
“Nyx?” I turn to him.
His eyes have glazed over in a hardened expression, like he’s no longer in the room with us.
I push into Ambrose’s mind, finding Nyx also there. Suddenly, I have to know. I have to understand their pain…
Darkness takes hold of me. And then I see them.
Both of them are walking toward me, and my body trembles under their predatory gazes.
No, stop.
But they don’t. They can’t. They—
A solid black wall forms, etched with Moonlight runes and dark red blood. A wall they’ve built together in Ambrose’s mind.
I stare into both of their eyes, with tears in my own. I got the smallest of glimpses into what happened, and it’s already enough to break me.
Not, I realize, because of what happened to me. They ensured I wouldn’t feel it, wouldn’t remember it. Could plaster a happier memory in its place.
No, I break for them. For what they endured. For what I couldn’t save them from.
I open my mouth. About to speak, when Ambrose holds out a towel to me.
I stand, letting him wrap the towel around me.
Nyx holds up a black dress that I gently take from his hands and then move to the corner of the cell to get dressed.
I can hear them taking turns bathing. Washing what happened from their bodies as best as they can and then dressing quickly and efficiently, as if it never happened.
I turn when I finish putting on the elegant satin dress that dips low in the front, but hides every scar on my back.
Both men are dressed in exquisite tuxes, as if we are about to attend a wedding rather than the more likely funeral. Their gazes are warm on my body, both taking their time to soak me with extra heat, as if they are trying to make me forget what transpired. What we all endured.
My thumb and forefinger rub together, as I fidget, not from their gaze, but from doing exactly as Isolde wanted. From playing the perfect part.
“Mark me,” I say to them.
“I’m not going to bite you,” Ambrose says at the same time Nyx says, “Hell no, I won’t hurt you again.”
I frown. “I mean my dress. Ruin it. Mark it in some way. Make it imperfect. Something that will remind me that we are in control, not Isolde.”
They nod—Ambrose moving to my front, Nyx to my back.
Ambrose’s claw appears, and I hear the cool breath of Nyx at the back of my neck.
And then they both rip. Nyx, a long stroke of his fangs down the back of my dress until it splits open, revealing the pain that Isolde has caused me.
Ambrose lowers the V in my dress, ensuring it dips low.
I grin. “Now we are ready for whatever Isolde has in store for us.”