Chapter 61 Noelle
NOELLE
The next thing Noelle knew, the cold, damp air of the dungeon was replaced by the marginally warmer, still-oppressive atmosphere of the main house. She was only vaguely aware of being carried into a bathroom and of the sound of running water.
Then she was being lowered into a deep, sunken tub filled with blessedly warm water. It stung her bruised skin and sore muscles at first, then soothed them as she grew used to it.
Bright was in the tub with her—a large, soft sponge in his hand.
He washed her with infinite care, his touch gentle as he smoothed the soap over her shoulders, back, and arms. He was meticulous, washing away the sweat…
the dried nectar from her breasts…and the lingering traces of their combined releases from between her thighs.
When he moved the sponge between her legs, she flinched, and he immediately stilled his hand.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He continued, his touch becoming even lighter—a ghost of a caress that cleaned her without causing more pain.
She saw Burn standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid. He wasn’t looking at them.
“Help me,” Bright asked him softly.
The Dark Twin shook his head, a sharp, jerky motion.
“I don’t deserve to touch her again. Not after what I did—not after how hard I used her.”
“You couldn’t help it,” Bright tried to reassure him, his voice firm. “You had to fuck her hard or that evil bastard would have shocked her. Noelle knows that.”
Noelle wanted to agree, to tell Burn it was okay, that she didn’t blame him, and that a part of her had even reveled in his raw, untamed power.
But the words were like stones in her mouth.
She was just so tired. All she could manage was a soft moan as Bright finished rinsing her, the warm water carrying the last physical evidence of their ordeal down the drain.
He lifted her from the tub and patted her dry with a huge towel, his movements still tender and reverent.
“You know we wouldn’t have used you like that if we hadn’t been forced,” he whispered, wrapping the towel around her. “Please tell me you know that, my lady.”
“I know,” she whispered back, her voice a thread of sound. “Just…so tired.”
“I think we’re all having some kind of reaction to the pink drink,” Bright said grimly, his own movements slightly unsteady as he guided her towards the massive bedroom. “Come on, let’s get to bed before we fall over.”
He tucked her into the center of the huge, giant bed, the coarse sheets cool against her skin. Noelle instinctively shifted—making room for them—expecting them to climb in on either side of her, to cocoon her in their warmth and strength as they had before.
But when Bright started to join her, Burn shook his head again, his expression grim.
“Better not—remember how enraged that fucker got earlier when he caught the three of us in the same room together? We’d better stay in our own rooms tonight.”
A spike of protest, sharp and clear, pierced through her exhaustion.
No! Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be by myself. It feels wrong. It feels scary!
She liked being between them. It felt natural and right—the only thing that made sense in this nightmare. But the drugging, heavy effect of the aphrodisiac was dragging her down, a leaden weight on her limbs and her eyelids.
Noelle tried to form the words, to beg them to stay, but her body betrayed her.
Her eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and she fell, not into dreams, but into a deep, black, dreamless sleep, utterly alone in the center of the vast, cold bed.