A part of her had always wondered if he hadn’t wished it’d been she who’d died that day.
To this day, the guilt of surviving an attack that had killed her brother haunted her unmercifully.
Yeah, life sucks for us all.
The tragedy of her own past was what allowed her to understand Darling so well. And it was what made her recognize the saddest truth of all—those events, as horrific as they were, were what had forged the man she loved. Without them, he’d be like the rest of the spoiled aristocracy she and the Resistance had been trying to overthrow. Obnoxious. Selfish.
Revolting.
Instead, he was a man worth dying for.
Pulling his shirt over her head, she paused as she caught his scent on her skin. It sent a rush through her body. There was nothing she loved more than that warm, masculine scent.
All he had to do was look at her and she was his.
Strange how she seldom saw his scars now. It was only when he slept in her arms that they were apparent to her. While he was awake, she was more focused on his eyes and quirky expressions and personality. So much so, that she barely noticed his physical appearance.
She turned the water on and regulated it. A smile curved her lips as she remembered Darling pinning her to the wall last night while the water poured over them.
Maris was right. He did have more stamina than anyone she’d ever heard of. Even after he’d fallen and bled all over this shower, he’d been unwilling to stop long enough to bandage his hand. Instead, he’d laughed about it and told her not to fret.
“I can’t feel pain and pleasure at the same time. So I’d rather focus on the latter and deal with the former when I have to.”
The man was nuts.
Trying not to think about Darling’s lunacy, she stepped inside to bathe.
Zarya lost track of time while she savored the warmth of the water, and washed her hair. She was just about to finish when the door opened behind her.
Ready to fight, she turned to confront her intruder.
Darling stood there, ogling her.
“Oh gods…”—she covered her heart with her hand—“you scared me. You need to make some noise when you move.”
“Sorry.” He leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder.
“So what did the doctor say?” she asked him.
Darling straightened, his features deadly earnest. “I’m going in for surgery day after tomorrow.”
Her heart clenched at those words and the fear they gave her. Why would he choose to do it so soon? “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
Worry ran rampant through her. Maris had told her that Darling didn’t do well under anesthesia. His body barely tolerated it.
“Are you doing this for you or for me? Because you know I don’t care about it at all. I think you’re wonderful just like you are.”
His features stern, he pulled the washcloth from the bar, then turned her around so that he could wash her back. She didn’t know why he liked doing that, but it always felt really good.
He made small circles over her back, then trailed the cloth down her spine. “It’s not for you, Z. I mean… some of it is. I hate that this is what you have to look at when you hold me. I know how awful I appear and I applaud you for not cringing every time you see me. But honestly, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stand to look at myself. Every time I catch my reflection against anything, I get severely sucker-punched over what I see there.”
Darling swallowed. “Believe me, I know removing the scars won’t fix the rest. I know they’re superficial. My voice and vision will still be screwed up. And the memories will always be there, stabbing me.” He flinched as if one of them hit him just from mentioning it. “But the scars bring it home and kick it down my throat. I’m ready to move forward, and I can’t do that when all I see is a victim every time I look in the mirror.”
She wanted to tell him he wasn’t a victim. That he’d never been a victim, but that wasn’t true and she knew it. The worst tragedy of all was when someone this strong, this capable, was held down and unable to protect himself while others abused and violated him. Like her with this damnable collar on. To know that you were fully capable of protecting yourself and to be unable to do so…
That was its own special kind of hell and it did untold damage to the psyche.
In her mind, she saw the photos Maris had shown her from Darling’s medical report.
Saw the way Darling had looked hanging in front of her that day when she’d thought he’d killed Kere. What had been done to him disgusted her. And she was an outsider to it. He’d been the one who had to endure the true, unvarnished degradation and horror of his torture.
The one who couldn’t even sleep for it.
All she wanted was to heal him.
His breathing ragged from the pain of those memories, he returned the cloth to her hand. He glared at her throat with so much animosity and fury that it actually scared her. She wanted to say something to soothe him, but fear froze her vocal cords.