Chapter 25

We get back into the cabin, and Slate undresses me and helps me into the shower. The heat from the water beats my body where his brutal fucking and the adrenaline had taken their toll.

He gets in with me, not saying a word as he lathers and washes my hair and then conditions it. I let him.

There are no more words at the moment. They've all been spoken. He washes my body, giving tender care to my center, which he's been fucking thoroughly.

Taking the shower head down, he rinses me clean. But I still wear my newly tattooed sins upon my flesh. Those I'll keep forever.

He leaves my face for last, lathering the face wash in both hands before washing me clean. I couldn't have done it, and he expected that before I even knew it myself.

The care he handles me with is beautiful, and it breaks my heart at the same time. The fact he's never had someone to care for as he so obviously wants. I don't know if I can remain with him. This life isn't for me.

But the way I'd jumped into action when my gut kept screaming at me to find him had been a side of me I didn't know existed. I think it does only for him.

Because whether I want to admit it, I'm falling in love with him. His touch, the care he gives me, the way we can sit in one another's company and not speak for hours. I love who I am with him.

But staying means I have to come to terms with what I just did. And I don't know how I can do that.

I'm a killer.

There's no other way to slice it.

Slate puts the shower head back up onto the holder, turning me and ringing some water from my hair before he reaches out and grabs a towel. He dries me off as I remain locked in thought in my head.

He's going to go bury those men we killed, and their families will never see them again.

But they were going to take him. They were going to kill him. I don't care what he says, they can't be his family. Family wouldn't do that to one another.

At least they don't in the world I live in.

And if this is the world he lives in, I don't know if I can be a part of it.

He dresses me in pajamas he'd bought me, made of the softest material. There's a rose pattern on the matching white set, and it's far too pretty to go on the skin of a killer. But I stay silent, letting him do what he must.

He sits me on the edge of the bed and gets behind me. When I feel the light tugging of a brush through my hair, I close my eyes, letting the sensation calm some of the racing nerves.

It feels nice to be cared for in such a manner. To let everything drop away and let someone else take on the physical burden of care.

"You're going to be alright, baby girl. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you will be. You did the right thing. You saved my life."

My lips remain sealed.

When he finishes with my hair, he gently lies me down on the bed.

He crouches before me. "I'm going to go handle what I need to. And when I get back, we'll talk, hmm? Don't disappear on me, Brynne." He taps my temple lightly. "Not even in here."

It's going to be hard to comply with that demand because I already feel darkness shrouding me like a stain of impurity. I didn't even know I could take a life, and I'd taken two.

The first tears fall as soon as he closes the door behind him. And they don't stop for what feels like an eternity.

* * *

I waketo the weight on the bed shifting, and I roll over. Slate is shirtless, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Moonlight shines through the panes, so I know the day passed me by as I wallowed. I burrowed into myself and hid away from it all.

When he turns into me, realizing I'm awake, he looks pained with worry.

I reach up and rub the fractures of concern that I caused on his beautiful face.

"You shaved," I tell him. I had realized it pretty quickly after I'd awoken this morning, but there wasn't time to mention it.

He nods. "I did. For our trip."

I lick my lips and nod.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I feel better than earlier, but it's surreal still."

"Trust me, I understand. But time will heal it and give you clarity."

I say nothing back because I don't know if there is something to say. I don't know if I want time to heal myself. What I'd done was deplorable.

I don't know that there's a way to get over it.

Suddenly, I'm in a world where I understand the darkest sides of Slate. His need for control, his need for release. It makes so much sense now that I'm on the other side of the fence.

The way he'd fucked me against that tree had given me something primal I needed. He'd known. Because he knows how it feels. The first kill.

The first kill. He'd said it as if he expected me to do it again.

Part of me knows if I walk away from him, I'll find no one else who takes care of my body and darkening soul as he does. He knows what I need because he's me. We're two nefarious spirits who've found one another in a world of chaos and hate.

How can I walk away from my one true love?

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Slate's voice breaks into my thoughts.

I shake my head. "I'm not ready."

He nods, biting his bottom lip. "I understand, bunny. When you are, I'm here."

I nod.

I'm not ready to let any of these fears and worries I'm carrying free yet. I know he can shoulder them, and he gladly will, but I need them to be only mine for a while. I need to wallow in them.

He rolls back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "We need to leave tomorrow. I don't want him sending anyone else."

I snuggle into his side, curling around him for warmth and strength, and his arm comes around me tightly.

"Sleep, baby girl. I'll keep the monsters away."

His words register, but I'm already slipping back under. All the while he holds me snugly, fighting the call of damnation for me.

* * *

The morning was a whirlwind.We'd gotten packed up and out the door early, meeting a helicopter I assume he arranged yesterday. As the view of the island fades away on the ascent, it's a stark contrast to the feeling of wonderment I'd had when I came here.

There's still beauty beneath me, but there's also a memory below I can't ever escape.

I don't know if I'll ever return to Bedhim Island, so I say a silent goodbye as I wipe away one lone tear.

Slate was a silent strength beside me as he got both of us ready, even styling my hair for me as I stared blankly into the mirror, not recognizing the woman staring back at me.

This new version of me is a little shattered and a little inkier. As if there's a venom racing in my veins, an omen for what this life beside the man I love offers me.

Because I love him more than I've ever loved anything in my life. Though I won't tell him.

If I decide to leave, I'll take the secret with me. Because giving it to him beforehand feels sick, like I'm twisting the knife deeper.

Slate's hand squeezes mine as he leads me up the steps of a private plane at the airport where we landed with the helicopter.

Even lifting my body feels foreign. Like I have to relearn every aspect of me again. I'm born of blood now and tied to the savage man beside me with a river of the same blood.

"Come with me," Slate says, dropping my hand. He heads toward the back of the plane, where a door separates a room from the front half of the plane.

He stands beside the door as I enter. When the door slams behind him, I turn and eye him.

"That's it, bunny. I can't watch you drown anymore. You saved me. Do you understand me? You saved my fucking life; you will not ruin yourself over it!" He storms toward me, and I lift a hand.

"Don't. I don't want to talk about it!" A sob chokes off in my throat when his massive hand surrounds it and squeezes.

"You want to die? Do you want the pain to be over? You're giving up, don't you see that? You saved my damaged ass out there in the fucking wilderness, Brynne. You don't deserve to suffer for what you did, so stop punishing yourself."

"You don't know if they were going to kill you," I manage gruffly.

He snarls, squeezing tighter. "Yes, I do. I grew up in this life. The threat was as real as you thought it was. Men die in transport all the time. The Don never blinks twice at their deaths."

I close my eyes at the feel of his heavy hold on my neck, feeling freedom in the pain.

"Is that it?" he whispers. "You want to die for what you did?"

Tears leave my eyes, tracing paths down my cheeks.

Do I?

What I'd done felt like the worst thing in the entire world. It feels crushing. Like my life is over.

Like I can't breathe.

"Tell me now, bunny. If this is how you're going to live from here on out, I'll end it myself."

My body convulses with tears and the need for air.

Only a few more minutes and it'll be all over. Sweet bliss.

I'll get to see my dad again.

"But know that I'm going with you," he adds, and my eyelids flick open, fear raging in my soul, shattering me like a fucking earthquake.

Tears are trekking down his beautiful cheeks and through his beard. "What you did will be for nothing because I'll end us both, Brynne. Because there isn't a fucking world if you're not in it. Not one I want to live in."

If I had air, my breaths would be heavy and shallow all at the same time.

"Is that what you want?"

My head shakes frantically, and his hand loosens. Air rushes through my lungs, and I cough.

"You don't give up. It's not who the fuck we are. We're indestructible, bunny. You and me; together."

"We don't give up," I repeat raspy through the pain in my throat.

He nods in agreement. "I'll give you whatever you want, baby girl, but I can't watch you drown anymore. You've got to come back to the surface. Back to me."

"I'll breathe for you," I tell him, finding his lips with mine in a crushing kiss. Life spills into my veins in rapid waves as his tongue finds mine in an inferno of soft movements meant to spur me on. And they do.

Fuck, if I don't come back to reality in his capable, rugged hands.

"God, how did I ever survive without you?" he asks, resting his forehead against mine.

I stay silent because the same thing is right on the tip of my tongue. Had he not said it, I would've.

The pilot comes on the speaker system to say we have to find our seats for take-off, and he kisses me once more, this one soft and loving.

I follow him out to the seats, and he straps me in next to him, holding my hand in his.

I can feel the fear radiating through his hold on me, and I realize I'm not afraid in the slightest.

"You don't like to fly?" I ask.

"No one should barrel through the air at six hundred miles an hour, bunny. It's not right."

Watching him, afraid of something—anything at all—is intoxicating. I don't know if he's faking it to make me feel better, but I feel stronger because I can care for him at this moment. I squeeze his hand.

"You're not alone, though. You've got me," I tell him.

He closes his eyes as we lift off the ground, nose in the air, headed toward the freedom of the open sky. I lean over, skimming my lips over his ear. "Open your eyes. Closing them makes it worse. Besides, we're the indestructible. Remember?"

He opens his eyes, heady arousal dancing in them as he smirks.

It's in this heartbeat of a moment I understand even more of him. Caring for him has given me a steadiness within. I've forgotten all the dark shit inside that's eating away at me. It puts someone else's needs ahead of your own harrowed thoughts.

When he smiles at me, it's almost as if he knows, too.

"The indestructible," he repeats, turning to face the front with a smirk on his face. I squeeze his hand as we level out.

But there are so many new fears rising to the surface that threaten to overtake me. My other hand rises and rubs over my throat, a warm heaviness sinking to my lower belly at the reminder of what had just happened between us.

Un brin de folie égaye la vie. — A touch of madness brightens life.