Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: The Monster's Gentle Hands
The slap came out of nowhere.
Her palm connected with my cheek with a sharp crack that echoed in the velvet-draped room. The impact stung,not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point. Her eyes blazed with fury, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, her body trembling from head to toe.
"You" Her voice cracked with rage. "You absolute..."
I didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
I just stood there, absorbing the blow, watching the fire in her eyes with something that might have been admiration.
"I'm sorry, my love." My voice was soft, almost tender. "Did I hurt your hand?"
She stared at me, momentarily stunned by my response.
"What?"
I caught her wrist gently, turning her palm upward. Her skin was pink from the impact, a faint flush spreading across her fingers. I pressed my lips to the center of her palm, then to the delicate skin of her wrist, feeling the frantic pulse beneath.
"Is your pretty little hand okay?" I murmured against her skin. "Because hurting yourself will only hurt me, and I can't have that."
She yanked her hand back. "You're insane! Completely and utterly"
"Insane?" I smiled,a slow, dangerous smile that made her take a step back. "Yes. Insane about you. Always have been, always will be."
Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I watched the play of emotions across her face,fury and confusion, revulsion and something that looked almost like curiosity. She was magnificent in her anger, a storm of righteous fury that made my heart ache with longing.
The bag Leo had left was waiting by the door.
I crossed to it, unzipping it with deliberate calm. Inside were clothes,my clothes, dark and simple. And hers. A soft white blouse, a flowing skirt the color of midnight, a pair of ballet flats that would be easy to run in if necessary.
I'd chosen everything carefully.
I dressed myself in silence, pulling on a dark shirt and trousers, fastening the buttons with practiced efficiency. Her eyes followed every movement, burning with a hatred so pure it made my chest ache.
When I was dressed, I pulled out her clothes and walked back toward her.
"Time to get dressed, my love."
"Don't call me that." Her voice was ice. "And I'm not wearing anything you brought me."
"Then what are you planning to wear?" I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze drift pointedly to the burgundy gown still pooled on the floor. "That torn, rumpled mess?"
"I'll wear it."
"You won't."
I held out the clothes. She crossed her arms, chin lifted in defiance.
"I would rather walk out naked than wear your clothes."
I laughed,a genuine laugh that surprised even me. "Very tempting offer, my love. But no." I stepped closer, my voice dropping to something darker. "Only I get to see you like that. No one else. Ever."
Something flickered in her eyes,fear, maybe. Or awareness. The knowledge that I meant every word.
"Now," I said, my voice softening. "Let me help you."
"I don't want your help."
"I know." I reached for the zipper of the gown, still hanging open at her back. "But you need it."
She tried to step away, but I caught her waist, pulling her back against me. The skin of her bare back was warm against my chest, her scent flooding my senses.
"Stay still," I murmured. "Or I'll have to dress you myself."
"That's what you're doing!"
"Then stop fighting and let me do it."
She fought.
Every step, every touch, every movement was a battle. She twisted and squirmed, trying to escape my grip. Her elbows jabbed at my ribs. Her heels dug into my shins. Her teeth,those beautiful, perfect teeth,snapped at my fingers when I tried to fasten the buttons of her blouse.
"You're a monster," she spat. "A monster and an animal and a...a..."
"Bastard?" I offered helpfully, finally managing to button the last button at her throat. "You've mentioned that one before."
She let out a strangled sound of pure frustration.
"I just want you to be comfortable," I said, smoothing the fabric of the blouse across her shoulders. "Soft, warm, safe. Is that so wrong?"
"Everything about you is wrong!"
I knelt before her, picking up the skirt. "Lift your foot."
"No."
"Aira."
"I won't!"
I looked up at her, and something in my expression must have changed, because she went very still. I held her gaze as I reached for her ankle, lifting her foot with gentle but implacable determination.
"You were going to say something," she whispered.
"I was going to say something?" I eased the skirt up her leg, over her knee, past her thigh. "I'm always saying things. The problem is, you never let me say the right ones."
She lifted her foot for the other leg, her movements jerky with fury. I pulled the skirt into place, fastening it at her hip.
"You're so beautiful when you're angry," I murmured.
"Don't."
"I can't help it." I stood, reaching for the long coat Leo had left. "The way your eyes flash. The way your cheeks flush. The way you look at me like you want to murder me with your bare hands." I slipped the coat over her shoulders, wrapping her in the dark fabric. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She slapped me again.
This time, I caught her wrist.
"Let me go"
"Did I mention how much I love your hands?" I pressed a kiss to her palm again, then the inside of her wrist. "So fierce. So determined. So loyal to a man who doesn't deserve it."
Her breath caught. I saw the confusion in her eyes, the brief flicker of doubt.
Then she wrenched her hand free and stepped back.
"Don't. Don't...." She shook her head, anger and frustration and something more desperate warring on her face. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to"
"I know." I softened my voice. "I know I have no right. I know I should be patient, give you time, let you heal on your own terms. But I've been patient, Aira. I've waited eight months. I've watched you with him, watched you believe his lies, watched you hate me for things I didn't do. I'm done waiting."
My phone buzzed.
Then again.
I pulled it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. Leo's name.
"Let me go," she said again, but there was less fight in it now. More exhaustion.
"In a minute," I promised.
I answered the call.
"Boss." Leo's voice was clipped, urgent. "Your mother is on the line. Your sister too. They've heard... rumors. About Aira being alive. They want to talk to you."
I looked at her,my angry, beautiful, broken wife and felt something shift in my chest.
"Put them through."
My mother's voice came through the speaker, thin with hope and terror. "Rowan. Is it true? Is she really"
"Yes, Mother." I kept my eyes on Aira as I spoke. "She's alive. I found her. I'm bringing her home."
A choked sob. "Oh, thank God. Thank God. Can I...can I speak to her? Please, Rowan, I need to"
"She doesn't remember, Mother." The words were harder than I expected. "She doesn't remember any of us. She doesn't remember the life we had. They destroyed her. Completely."
Silence on the other end. Then Sophia's voice, raw and broken: "Is she okay? Is she..."
"She hates me." I smiled faintly, watching the confusion flicker across Aira's face. "She hates me more than she's ever hated anyone. I'm fairly certain she wants to kill me. It's honestly adorable."
The silence that followed was the strangest thing I'd ever heard from Sophia. A sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"Bring our girl home, Rowan." My mother's voice was trembling. "Please. We need to apologize. We need to make this right. The guilt... it's been killing us."
"I know, Mother." I closed my eyes briefly. "I promised her I would bring her home. I'm keeping that promise."
"Be careful. And Rowan"
"Mother?"
"She loves you. Somewhere in there, she still loves you. Don't give up on her."
I ended the call.
Aira was staring at me. "Your mother. And sister."
"Yes."
"They know I'm alive." A pause. "They want to apologize."
I nodded slowly. "They've been drowning in guilt for eight months. They thought you were dead. They thought it was their fault."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then: "It was their fault, wasn't it?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
"Yes." I met her eyes. "They threw you out into the cold. They believed lies and condemned you without proof. They were wrong. And they know that now."
"I hate them too."
"You should. For now. But when you remember..." I stepped closer, taking her hand. "When you remember who you were, who you are, the life we built,I think you'll find it in your heart to forgive them. You always did."
She pulled her hand free again.
"Don't tell me what I'll do. You don't know me. You don't know anything."
I smiled.
"You're right." I reached for her arm, pulling her close. "I don't know this version of you. But I want to. I want to learn every single thing about this fierce, angry, magnificent woman. I want to know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, what makes her throw things at my head."
She stared at me, caught between fury and confusion.
"You're impossible."
"I'm relentless." I scooped her up, settling her against my chest. "But yes. Also impossible."
"Put me down!"
"I'd rather not."
"You said you'd let me walk!"
"I said I'd let you walk if you could." I raised an eyebrow. "But you were trembling a few minutes ago, and the way I ravaged you... I don't think you can manage more than a few steps."
Her face went scarlet. "You bastard!"
"Already established." I carried her toward the door, my voice dropping to something softer. "I'm your monster, Aira. Your beautiful, relentless, impossible monster. And I'm taking you home."
She shoved at my chest. "I won't go with you!"
"You have no choice, sweetheart."
"Put me down!"
"No."
"PUT!!ME!! DOWN!"
"I'll put you down when we're in the car," I said calmly. "Not a moment before."
Her face was a mask of fury, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing. She was magnificent. Absolutely breathtaking.
I was completely, hopelessly in love with this version of her.