And that pulverized me.
There was no hope for him.
No chance at happiness when he had no concept of the word.
No ability to be free because his own mind had caged him.
He was a man who’d hit rock bottom and had nothing left.
My tears rolled at the same speed as his, washing away what he’d done, leaving us in unfamiliar, dangerous territory.
I couldn’t look away.
I’d thought my homesickness crippled me but it was nothing compared to his. A homesickness he couldn’t even decipher because he had no home, no family, no one. He only had emptiness...and a mind full of evil.
I didn’t know how much time passed while he attacked the wall. His back bunched and his arms swung and he didn’t stop until blood smeared the shredded wallpaper.
I never looked away.
I let him purge.
I allowed his torment to seep through the carpet and coat me in the misery he drowned in. My pain was nothing compared to his. All my justified curses, threats, and anger didn’t stand a chance because how could I be mad at a creature so despicably distraught? How could I kick him when he was already downtrodden into dirt he couldn’t climb out of?
Maybe, that was stupid.
Perhaps, I’d been in this valley for too long and all rational thinking had fled, but there wasn’t a single part of me that hated him. Not after what he’d done. Not even while my core still throbbed from his rough thrusts.
Right here, right now, this was more than what’d happened between us. This was more than just a moral mistake. This was him breaking...and it overwhelmed me.
He finally stopped punching the mansion that’d kept him trapped, and a bone-deep heaviness settled inside my chest. A heaviness that crushed me with need to be kind instead of angry.
As he spun to look at me with eyes so achingly haunted, a hunger welled inside me to help. A terrible, undeniable desire to take away the shadows inside his soul before they killed him right here in this valley.
That desire to rescue him didn’t absolve or forgive him. The feeling pooling inside me was borne from something far, far deeper than being mistreated and mishandled. It was honest and righteous and true.
It was the right thing to do, even if no one else would ever understand.
Even if I didn’t understand.
Even as I gave him a tiny shrug and a smile that took so much effort to conjure and watched him crash to his knees in tears, I still couldn’t name what unfurled inside me.
Our war was deleted.
Our status between warden and prisoner, slave and master, friend and enemy dissolved.
I was transcended in a way I couldn’t explain. Watching him bury his face into his hands and yell as if he was being eaten alive by demons shoved me into an evolution that freed me from hate, animosity, and every other emotion that suddenly seemed so trivial.
This wasn’t about what he’d done to my body against my will.
This was about so much more than that.
This was about his mind being trapped his entire life. About his lostness, his brokenness, his very immortal being.
I’d driven him to tears with just a shrug.
And I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t sit there and listen to his snarls suffocated by his palms.
It hurt.
He hurt.
I crawled to him.
The chain tethering us together clinked and hissed on the carpet, reminding me we were joined regardless of what happened here. And I suddenly understood why he’d bound me. He hadn’t done it because he was selfish about letting me go. He’d done it because he couldn’t survive knowing I had free will. Knowing I could walk away and never come back. Knowing I would choose others over him, just like so many people had before.
That was what scared him.
Free will.
Because he’d never had it.
Never been given it.
Oh, Kas.
I stopped crawling as I reached his huddled, bleeding shape by the wall. I did what others had never done and approached him softly, slowly, sweetly. And when I touched his knees, it was with a gentleness that made his spine buckle and entire body quake.
His skin was like ice as if he’d been in a blizzard. Wet with sweat and covered in shame, he trembled. He flinched away from me as if fully expecting me to carve him with a knife or set fire to his body with a match.
I had no doubt both those things had been done to him.
Silently, I caressed my way from his knees over his hands, his arms, his shoulders, to his face. I didn’t speak. I didn’t think I could. The pressure in my chest had lodged into my throat, choking me just as his own grief choked him.
If, on my dying bed, I broke my promise and spilled this secret, I would ensure whoever I told understood that treating this man with respect and tenderness wasn’t some misplaced ideology formed by a silly girl who’d been held captive against her will, but because the very same man who’d hurt her had shown such heart-shattering remorse.
His tears were genuine.
His horror was real.
That was what allowed me to forget about what he’d done and pull his face from his palms.
He fought me, burying deeper as if he couldn’t stomach to look at me.
I tugged harder, inching closer until I pressed myself against his quaking legs. Slowly, ever so slowly and with the utmost reluctance, he raised his chin and gritted his teeth.
And God, I couldn’t cope.
I’d never seen a man stripped so bare. So utterly flayed alive with guilt and anguish. His cheeks glittered with tears. His eyes were dark and glossy with eternal sadness. His lips were bitten and parted, panting for oxygen as if his lungs forbade him from breathing.
His gaze met mine.
And the stark, raw emotions crashing off him punched me square in the chest, tattooing his pain onto my heart forever, ensuring I would always remember him, always worry about him, always protect him.
Maternal instincts rose swift and sharp—a direct contrast to the feminine side of me that burned beneath his stare. I didn’t know how I could look at him and feel so many things. Too many things. I recognised a haunted man who could so easily cause me harm...and had. I saw a beast that ought to be put down to cease his suffering. And I also saw a lover who had the power to summon equal parts fight and desire, violence and passion, and the rarest forms of electrical, mystical connection.
He shook his head.
At what, I didn’t know. Perhaps, I was too close for him. Maybe, he begged even now, for me not to hurt him. He stayed coiled against the wall, a hulking shape of savagery but at the same time trembled—conditioned to expect torture instead of comfort.
He shook his head again, a guttural groan escaping him.
I didn’t move away.
I moved closer.
Slowly, so as not to spook him, I inched toward his side and kneeled next to him. Pushing away his discarded jeans, I settled close. As close as I dared to a wounded animal.
He shuddered as his gaze dropped from mine and locked onto my bare legs.
He stiffened to stone even as his hips pulsed with phantom need. His erection was angry and painfully hard. His groan came again, this time so deep and rough it reached between my legs and stroked.
My nipples pebbled as my breath caught.
The web of chemistry between us sprang from every corner, a net of lust falling over us, shimmering with persecution.
“No,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from my naked thighs.
I hadn’t bothered dressing after our walk to the river. I still only wore the shirt that’d dried in the sun with no underwear or protection. While I’d been cooking, it’d almost been vindictive to remain that way. My way of proving to myself that I didn’t need scraps of cotton to feel covered. The only way I’d feel myself and safe in this place was to accept that I lived with a mentally damaged man who didn’t mean what he did but was too unre
achable to reason with.
That man now drank me in as if I was both poison and elixir.
His hands balled into fists as I swayed closer, running my fingers through his long, sweaty hair, letting him know I wasn’t afraid. That I was trying to teach him I would never be cruel. That I was trying to keep myself safe by giving him someone to trust.
He moaned like a dying thing.
His good hand suddenly snatched my wrist, yanking my fingers from his hair. His chest rose and fell, sucking up air and lust. “I said no.”
I swallowed back the pressure in my throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His eyes widened until his eyelashes touched his brows. “What? That’s what you think? That I’m afraid of you?”
I stilled. “Aren’t you? You...you were having a nightmare. I know you weren’t awake when you—”
“Christ!” He laughed coldly, choking on disbelief. With a burst of strength, he shoved me away, making me slide backward on the carpet. “I remember every part. How I forced you. How I thrust my way inside you all while you screamed at me not to.”
“You didn’t see me. Not until the end. You said something about Levin. You moaned about snow and—”
“Get the hell away from me.”
“I don’t understand—”
He swiped at the wetness still oozing from his narrowed eyes, self-hatred blazing in his stare. “I. Hurt. You!” He pushed backward even more, wedging himself deeper against the wall. “I. Raped. You.” He shook his head as another twisted cough fell from his lips. “I deserve whatever pain you want to give me. I’ll sit here while you stab me, burn me, butcher me piece by piece, yet you fucking touch me! You stroke me as if I’m the one who—”
“It’s okay.”
He snarled. “It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. And for you to say it is? Fuck!” He looked at the ceiling before pinning me back in his ferocity. “You’re as insane as me. Get away from me, Gemma! Run! You’re just inviting me to hurt you again by being so goddamn naïve!”
My temper didn’t rise to meet his. I was removed, serene.
I knew what I had to do.
Crawling back toward him, I hesitated just a second before placing my hand on his shoulder.
He jolted as if I’d electrocuted him. “Stop—”
“I forgive you.”
“You forgive—?” He hissed between his teeth. “Goddammit, you...you—” He pointed a shaking finger in my face. “Don’t. Don’t ever forgive me. I don’t deserve it. I—”
“Kas...” I massaged his shoulder.
He shot from his ass to his knees, scooting away from me. “I told you to quit touching me, you idiotic fool!”
“And I told you it’s okay.”
“It’s. Not. Okay!”
“I’m not going to hurt you!” I reached for him again. All I wanted to do was give him a hug. That was it. A simple, stupid hug. Something I doubted he’d ever had. Something that enveloped all his sins and all his insanities and gave him something to cling to.
I needed to do it.
I wouldn’t give up.
If I didn’t make him believe I forgave him, he would suppress yet another shitty memory. He’d chew it up and swallow it down until it riddled him with yet more disease. He’d make me become just another sickness inside him.
No.
Just no.
“Would you have hurt me willingly?” I demanded.
He flinched. “I have in the past. I’ve locked you in the basement. I’ve chased after you. I’ve—”
“But not now. Not today. Today is different than yesterday. I know you better. You know me. I don’t believe you could hurt me willingly now. You didn’t mean to—”
“Yet, I did!”
“And I forgive you for it!”
“And I don’t want your fucking forgiveness!” His cock bounced between his legs as he fell to his ass again, his hands balled. Pre-cum beaded the top of his red erection, seeming to have grown in size, tormenting him from taking me and not finishing.
“Get away, Gemma,” he growled. “Get the hell away from me.”
“Tell me why when all I’m trying to do is be your friend.”
He froze. “My friend?” He sucked in a stuttering breath as he shook his head. Crossing his arms on his knees, he lowered his forehead to the splint bracing his broken bone. “I’ve destroyed you.” He groaned and this time it was even deeper, rougher, like thorn-studded velvet across my skin.
I went to him.
I slinked one arm around his chest and one behind his back and I hugged him, pressing against his side.
And if I thought I’d seen Kassen Sands reach rock bottom before, I’d been mistaken.
He collapsed forward, crying out as if I’d done exactly what he expected and torn him limb from limb all while pouring acid on his bleeding pieces.
His entire body became an earthquake as he hunched away from me. “Stop,” he whimpered.
I didn’t stop.
I dropped my forehead to the crook of his neck and squeezed him as if the only thing keeping him alive was this contact between us.
And maybe that was true. Could a hug have the power of resuscitation? Could I force goodness into him? Light? Love? Just from the blanket of a hug?
“It’s okay,” I murmured, inching even closer to him, wrapping him up as much as I could in my arms.
He snarled under his breath, trembling harder. “It’s not. It will never be.”
“Just let go, Kas. You’re with me. Only me.”
For a split second, he did what I said and relaxed against me. His tension slipped away. His chest inhaled with a haggard breath. He dropped his cheek against my hair and gave in.
But then it was over and he became stiff as a board again, his hands came up, trying to unbind my arms from around him. “Let me go.”
“It’s just a hug.” I burrowed deeper into him, shivering as the ice from his skin coated mine. I’d hoped my heat would warm him, cure him. However, the opposite had happened. He’d infected me with his coldness, the perpetual blackness in which he resided.
“Gemma—” He pushed me away with a grunt, his jaw gritted and eyes wild. “Stop.”
I sat back on my knees, studying the anger in his stare and the suffering in his body. He looked as if two creatures lived inside him. An animal who’d been mistreated for so long it no longer knew how to act and a boy who still desperately wanted to believe in second chances. A mischievous malice blended with dangerous bitterness.
I should’ve been the one accepting comfort after what he’d done. I was fully within my right to scream at him and plunge the knife into his heart. Yet, there I was, feeling guilty for not being able to soothe his pain. For feeling wrong by trying to force a hug on him, when really, I should respect his space, seeing as no one else ever had.
I didn’t have a clue how to act or what to do in order to grant him peace.
Dropping my gaze down his body, I sucked in a breath as I caught sight of his erection. It hadn’t deflated. If anything, it seemed to have grown even harder. A rock-hard weapon that currently did its best to drive him mad.
He groaned under his breath, catching me staring. Angling himself away, he went to cup his length, to grant some privacy, but the moment his palm landed on his cock, he hissed and ripped his hand away. A wash of white flashed over his face, followed by glittering sweat on his forehead as if just the barest brush of his own hand made him fight the urge to be sick.
How would that feel, not being able to trust yourself? To have your own body stolen from you so you couldn’t grant a smidgen of comfort or care? What sort of monsters had taken a boy and groomed him so badly that a simple graze of his palm made him rather choose suicide over masturbation?
My shattered heart cracked all over again, fragments on top of fragments, splinters within splinters.
With his head bowed, he brought his knees up higher, trying to hide his twisted arousal. “You need to leave,” he growled. A
nd God, the pain in his voice. The profound desolation, the stinging lust and yearning desire. Whatever nightmare had triggered his need, he wouldn’t be free of it unless he came. His body had gone too far to be denied.
In any other ordinary man, he could grant relief on his own. I could give him some time alone, he could stroke and fondle and be rid of the desperate hunger in his blood.
But he wasn’t an ordinary man and this wasn’t an ordinary house, and frankly, I wasn’t an ordinary girl.
Not when it came to him.
Not here on the floor after everything that’d transpired between us.
Bracing myself, I once again placed my hand on his knee.
His head shot up, his eyes narrowed and threatening. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I get that you’re in pain.”
“And you aren’t?” He scoffed. “After what I did to you?”
“You didn’t hurt me physically.”
He bared his teeth. “But I scarred you emotionally. You’ll always know what that feels like now. To be taken against your will—”
“Just like you were so many times in your past.”
He choked. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. I’m not the victim here.”
“But you are. You were. I understand.” I shook my head. “I forgive you.”
“Stop saying that. You should never forgive someone who—”
“Who’s strangled me so many times I’ve stopped counting? Who’s slept with me on a clifftop in a storm? Who’s chained me to live with them for God knows—?”
“Exactly!” he snarled. “Hate me. Christ knows you’re fully within your right. Use that blade you keep threatening me with. Didn’t you promise to kill me if I ever took you again?” His nostrils flared. “Well? Go on. Do it! I want you to do it. I need you to do it.” His voice caught as his tone slipped into a feral groan. “I want this to stop. This shit inside my head. This never-ending loneliness. This inability to be happy...to be free.” His temper suddenly raged, shoving aside his vulnerability. “Get it over with. Do it.” He snatched my wrist, shaking me. “Don’t make me give you another reason to kill me. Because I will. I’ll hurt you. It’s a fucking guarantee. You said so yourself! You said I’d end up making a mistake, and look what fucking happened! What if I end your life the next time I snap, huh? Do yourself a favor and stop me before I have the chance.”
Fable of Happiness Book Two Page 25
