Chapter 92

NINETY-TWO

AMETHYST

I can’t believe it’s over. Xero’s people stormed the apartment, took Camila out on a stretcher, and gathered up the men in suits. They restrained Delta like he was some kind of cannibal, injected him with four types of drugs, then loaded him on a hand truck.

We’re in one of their safe houses within the Victoria Gardens district, trudging into a bathroom the size of my old kitchen. Morning sunlight streams in through opaque windows and onto slate tiles.The air carries a faint scent of lavender, a welcome change from the stench of carnage.

I’m still wearing the bathrobe when Xero leads me to a shower cubicle large enough to have its own bench. The blood has dried through the fabric, making it stick to my chest.

Xero slips off his robe. The blood on his skin was already dry when the medics checked our vital signs and scanned us for trackers. His platinum hair has formed red clumps, and his face is streaked with crimson.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod.

He turns the faucet, and warm water cascades down from four dinner-plate-sized shower heads. Slumping on the bench, I close my eyes and let the liquid flow over my skin. Each droplet feels like it’s come from heaven, washing away our hellish ordeal.

Xero sits on the bench beside me, his fingers finding their way to my robe’s collar. Despite getting soaked, the fabric still clings stubbornly to my skin.

“Give it a minute,” I murmur.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the roar of the shower.

Swallowing, I nod and lean against his larger body for support. For the hundredth time, my mind runs through my encounter with Dolly and all the things I learned from Locke.

“Do you think I could have saved her?” The words escape my lips before I can stop them, laden with the weight of regret.

“You know the answer to that.” Xero wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.

“I don’t know… You were a child assassin, and you turned out okay?”

“What I went through was a picnic compared to the years Dolly suffered under Father,” he says. “No amount of reasoning can compete with fourteen years of trauma, manipulation, and abuse.”

“Yeah,” I reply with a sigh.

“My father had her channeling all her anger and resentment onto you for a reason.”

I open my eyes and gaze up into Xero’s face. The blood encrusted in his hair and skin has gone, leaving him as starkly beautiful as ever, with his pale-blue eyes and chiseled features.

He runs gentle fingers through my curls. “They built you up as a scapegoat to make her cooperative. Maybe that was the only way she could survive. If you had hesitated for a minute with Dolly, you would be dead.”

My throat tightens. “Maybe,” I reply. “But the animosity started before we even went to Three Fates.”

Xero slips his fingers beneath the collar of my robe. By now, the fabric has loosened its hold on my skin, and he peels it down my arms, letting the water wash over my shoulders.

“How was she before your stepfather started framing you for breaking her things?”

“We weren’t close before then. She had her friends. I had my books.”

“Those men took an innocent girl and twisted her into the type of person who relished other people’s pain. They tried to do the same to you, but failed.”

I dip my head. They turned me into a killer, but at least I have a moral code.

“Maybe,” I say again.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

With tender fingers, he eases off the robe, exposing me to the warm cascade. His gaze roams over my body, lingering on each bruise and scar, and his features tighten with anger. The air thickens, charged with his silent rage.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“You’re injured.”

My hands travel to the finger marks on my neck. “It’s nothing.”

“I did that.”

“Xero—” I place my fingers over his lips, silencing his protest. “It was the drugs. You were half-crazed.”

“Did I hurt you?”

Shaking my head, I smile. “I’ve trained with you at your best. It was easy enough to dodge.”

His gaze pierces mine, desperate to uncover any trace of concealed pain. “You can’t have been successful with those bruises.”

“I took a risk and let you grab me to get through to you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “That was dangerous.”

“You thought I was Dolly. I was safe when you realized it was me.”

“Don’t do that again.” Voice trembling, he cups my face, his thumbs brushing away stray droplets from my cheeks.

“Do you plan on going out of your mind again?” I ask.

Opening his eyes, he shakes his head, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “Not in this lifetime.”

“There you go.”

I lean in, my lips parting, and he captures them in a kiss. It’s tender, a heartfelt apology that needs no words. I luxuriate in the moment, wanting it to last forever. His hands cradle my face, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding me in the warmth of his love.

When we break apart, he leans his forehead against mine, his thumbs tracing circles on my cheeks.

“Let me wash you,” he says with so much reverence that my skin breaks out in shivers.

“Please.”

He reaches for a bar of soap and rubs it between his hands, creating a rich lather. Starting at my shoulders, he works the suds into my skin with firm strokes. His touch is methodical, almost clinical, as if he’s focused on erasing every trace of those men’s gazes.

“You’re mine, little ghost,” he growls.

“Yours,” I whisper. “And you’re mine.”

“I belonged to you the moment I read your first letter. Hell, the moment I picked up your scent on the paper, you became the keeper of my heart.”

As his gaze finds mine again, he glides his hands over my arms, his thumbs tracing the lines of my muscles. “You’re so strong,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So brave.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say with a smile. “I spent a long time playing dead.”

“Clever ghost. They underestimated you—even my father. You should have seen the horror in his face when you threw him into the glass.”

Closing my eyes, I let the praise wash over me along with the water. He moves his hands lower, soaping my chest with careful attention, his fingers skimming the tops of my breasts. I shiver, my nipples hardening.

“And beautiful, too,” he says, his voice deepening.

He guides me to the edge of the bench and turns my body to face sideways, so his strong hands can work their way down my back. His fingers knead the knots in my muscles until the tension dissolves, and I melt under his touch. Pulling me flush against his chest, he reaches around to my belly and runs his soapy hands in slow, sensual circles.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

“Tell me,” I whisper back.

“More than I love the beating of my heart. More than I love blood running through my veins. You are my everything, the air that I breathe, the sun that warms my skin, the moon that brightens my darkest nights.”

His words resound through my soul, filling my heart with warmth. A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes prick with tears. No one has ever described me in such beautiful, raw terms. For the first time in my fragmented memory, I don’t just feel complete, but completely loved.

“Your words…” My voice thickens with the depth of my emotions. “I… You… God, Xero. You’ve gotten me tongue-tied.”

“Let it out.”

His fingers continue stroking my belly, never wandering any lower. My blood hums, my clit swells, and my skin thrums for his touch.

“Xero, I…” My throat tightens.

The last time I said those words, I had a miscarriage. The man I loved stood over my broken body, his expression unreadable, as I cramped and bled and cried.

Xero’s lips graze my ear, and he murmurs, “I’ve got you, little ghost. Your heart is safe with me.”

“You saved me in more ways than I can imagine,” I say, my voice trembling with the depth of my emotions. “Even when I thought all was lost, it was your voice guiding me through the dark. Xero, you’re the other half of my soul. Without you, I’m a shell, drifting aimlessly in an ocean of nothingness.”

I turn around to face him, my eyes brimming with tears, searching for him through the haze of water and steam. Our gazes finally connect, and it’s like the entire world falls still.

His ice-blue irises, streaked with bolts of lightning, strike me to the core. They draw me in, holding me captive with an electrifying allure.

“I-I love you, Xero,” I stammer, my heart fluttering against my chest like the wings of a trapped bird. “I can’t even begin to thank you for saving me.”

“Promise you’ll be mine forever. That’s all the thanks I need.”

My heart aches with gratitude and longing. That’s all he’s ever asked. The part of me that wanted to run away from him now wants to run into his arms.

“Forever,” I say. “Forever and the day after that. I promise.”

He leans in for another kiss. His hands continue their journey, moving lower to soap my hips and thighs. The intimacy of his touch, the way he handles me with such care and reverence, makes my heart skip several beats.

My legs part in a silent invitation to seal our vows with something deeper than words.

When his fingers trace my inner thighs, my breath hitches. Every muscle in my core clenches in anticipation of his touch, but he pauses, barely grazing my pussy lips.

“May I?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Fuck, yes,” I cry, the word escaping my lips before I can think. I want this. I need him.

He slides off the bench and drops to his knees, and my eyes widen.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m kneeling at the feet of my goddess, worshipping her sweet altar, getting the closest taste of heaven this sinner deserves.”

My lips part with a gasp, but my thighs relax. Xero separates my legs and growls against my sensitive skin. Water cascades from above, yet his breath feels so much hotter. He kisses a slow path along my inner thighs, punctuating each press of his lips with licks and gentle nips, until I’m slumped backward, whining and trembling for his tongue.

After what feels like an eternity, his hot tongue slides over my sensitive clit. A jolt of ecstasy shoots through my core like an electric shock, causing my hips to jerk. It’s as if every nerve in my body gets dialed up to eleven.

“Xero,” I gasp, my voice choked, my fingers tangling into his wet hair.

He hums against my folds, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through my core. His tongue circles my clit with deliberate slowness, then explores every inch of my pussy like he’s committing its contours to memory.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice infusing me with tingles. “Let me take control. Let me give you all the pleasure you can handle. I want you coming apart on my face, baptizing me with your sweet nectar.”

I melt against the wall and bench, my hands trailing over his broad shoulders.

Xero alternates between gentle licks and firm, swirling motions, then adds gentle sucking that has my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

Stars burst through my vision, and the world spins in swirls under his ministrations, threatening to cast me adrift from reality completely. His sinful mouth feels like it was made for my pleasure, his clever tongue shaping itself around my folds with an ease that could only come from the depth of our connection.

“Look at me when I’m making you come,” he growls into my pussy.

I meet his eyes, which are dark with arousal and hunger—voids of black pulling me into his soul.

His fingers slip into my entrance, delivering a stretch that detonates a body-wide explosion of ecstasy. I arch against his mouth, my hips moving in counterpoint to his tongue.

“Just like that. Let go for me,” he says.

I teeter on the edge, every nerve ending on fire. His tongue flicks and licks and swirls, adding to the building pressure. Pleasure coils tight within my core, making my movements erratic. His hands grip my hips, anchoring me in place as the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on my clit.

With a final, desperate cry, I shatter, the orgasm ripping through my core with the force of a storm. Body trembling, my nails dig into his shoulders as I ride the waves of pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, his fingers and tongue drawing out every tremor until I’m a boneless, blissful mess. When I fall limp, he pulls back, his lips glistening with my arousal. I’ve never seen him look so beautiful.

Pulling him up, I wrap my fingers around his shaft. “Fuck me,” I moan into his mouth. “I need you. Right now.”

“You want it, little ghost?” he murmurs into the kiss. “Tell me how much.”

“Yes. More than anything,” I moan.

“Dirty girl, gripping me so tight. If you want more, then you’ll have to beg.”

“Please, Xero,” I murmur. “Give me your cock.”

He pulls back with a wicked smile. “Since you asked so prettily, then take what you need.”