“I’ll back off, lirsha, and you can make yourself climax.”
Anger lashed at her expression. “No. No, dammit! I want to be normal! I want to come with a man.”
“Tayla, not all human females—”
Her hand slammed into his shoulder. “I can. I know I can. I just have to get rid of him.”
He froze. “Him?”
In the shadows, her eyes sparked. “Him. The demon.” Suddenly, she was flailing at his chest, pummeling him with her fists. “I hate them,” she sobbed. “I hate them . . .”
He closed his eyes and let her take it out on him, let her strike him until her strength gave out and her sobs became uncontrollable. Until she lay limp beneath him, little more than a quivering mass of flesh and tears.
Rolling to his side, he pulled her against him, let her cry for what seemed like hours, her body heaving.
“Tayla, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t get it out of my head.” A shudder wracked her body. He was still buried deep inside her, still hard, and her shaking made him suck air.
“What?” he managed, needing to know because alongside the arousal was a fierce need to kill whoever had traumatized her. “What can’t you get out of your head?”
Tayla burrowed into Eidolon’s chest, wishing he’d stop asking, stop acting as if he cared. Because every touch, every gentle word, broke down her walls when she should be building them stronger. People who cared about her had a habit of dying . . . or trying to kill her.
For a long time, she listened to the sound of his breathing and the beat of his heart. He said nothing, wearing her down with her own thoughts. Finally, she pulled back a little.
“I was sixteen,” she said, her voice sounding raw to her ears. “I came home from school and heard strange noises from the kitchen. I saw her, my mom. She was on the table. Being raped.”
Eidolon had been stroking her hair, and his hand stilled. “Demon?”
“Soulshredder.”
“Gods,” he whispered. “It doesn’t get much worse than that.”
No, it didn’t. Soulshredders got off on tormenting their victims, slowly, over long periods of time, driving them mad rather than killing them outright.
“I tried to fight, but . . . it was strong and I was terrified . . . it lashed me to a chair and forced me to watch as it raped her, over and over. She couldn’t scream because it had gagged her.” A dishtowel had plugged her mom’s mouth, the spaghetti stains from the previous night’s dinner distinguishable from the blood. Her flesh had been plowed by serrated claws. She’d looked like a bear’s scratching post, and the smell of her blood had been powerful enough for Tayla to taste.
“Then . . . oh, God.”
“Go ahead,” he murmured. “You can tell me.”
She closed her eyes tight, as though doing so would shut out the images, but they only grew more vivid. “She . . . came. He was raping her, and she . . . she came.”
Eidolon hooked a finger under her chin. “Look at me. Look at me.” Reluctantly, she did. His expression was one of savage determination. “That’s why you can’t have an orgasm with a man, isn’t it?”
She tried to wrench out of his grasp, but he framed her face with both hands. “She liked it,” Tayla said, her voice rough and raspy and on the verge of breaking. “She was being tortured, raped, and she . . . she got off.”
“Listen to me, Tay. The Soulshredder was messing with you. And her. They have the ability to force someone to feel pleasure in the midst of pain. It’s another way to torture them, to humiliate them. And look how it worked. Look how he’s been tormenting you for years with this memory.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone in long, soothing strokes. “Has that scene been playing out in your head every time you have sex?”
A sobbing sound escaped her as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Yes. Sometimes, even when it’s just me, all I can think about—”
“Stop. Don’t give him that power anymore.” His thumb dropped to her trembling lips, where he traced them, his touch light and gentle. “Has he returned to torment you since then?”
“No, but I wish he would,” she said fiercely. “I’d tear him apart.”
“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “So brave. Your fight against demons has been as internal as it has been external. You can win this battle.” He kissed away her tears. “Let me help you.”
“You want to heal me, doctor?” she asked softly.
Possessive eyes focused on her. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Me, either,” she said, and Lord help her, it was true. The events of so long ago had stuck with her for so many years, had ruined her life, had ruined her ability to have a normal relationship with a man. It was time to let it go. Or, at least, try to let it go.