Without a word, his aunt steps into the bathroom and turns the shower on. She then motions for Lucian and me to go in. Instead of allowing me to walk, he scoops me into his arms and carries me into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind us. He places me gently onto the shower chair, which his aunt has situated close to the stream of water. He opens the ties on the back of my hospital gown and slowly lowers it from my shoulders before removing it completely. When I nod for him to continue, he picks up the detachable showerhead and brings it to my back, letting the warm waterfall against my skin. He uses his other hand to pump out soap from the wall dispenser into his palm and begins to alternate between soaping and rinsing my body.
I look down at his hand against my breast and silent tears fall as he gently washes the ugly, bruised and bitten areas surrounding my nipples. He sees evidence of every moment of violence I endured, and I know with certainty that it’s tearing him apart. Instead of turning away, though, he looks for and cleans every bruise, scratch, and bite he possibly can. He understands that I need this, and in some ways, I know he needs it just as badly. This is no longer just about a bath for either of us; it’s an attempt to cleanse our minds from the horror of my attack.
When he reaches the juncture of my thighs, he pauses for the first time, waiting silently for me to give him permission. I open my legs and we both see the mass of black and purple marks marring my inner thighs. As I open to him further, I hear him inhale raggedly as one area of my thigh shows a visible handprint etched into the skin along with jagged bite marks. I feel him tremble against me, and I hold my breath. If he isn’t able to touch me there and replace the ugliness, which threatens to consume me, I’ll snap. The thread holding me together is completely in his hands, and it will kill me if he turns away from me now.
As if sensing my focus on his hand, he moves it slowly and begins washing me. Even though I know it’s hurting him, he continues to touch every inch of my skin with tender, almost loving strokes. I flinch and try to close my legs on reflex when he reaches my sex. I wasn’t penetrated by my stepfather…he tried, but his failure to achieve a sufficient erection to violate me drove him into a rage which led to his complete loss of control. From that moment forward, his only aim was to punish me for his inability to perform. I said a word of thanks for every blow, that rained down upon me, because even if he killed me, he would never have that part of me. His beating, in a way, was my triumph over him and he knew it, he sensed it. That was what drove him to try to carve the word ‘whore’ into my stomach. When he told me he was going to do that, he finally saw and felt what he wanted to from me: desperation, despair, and anger. God, he had been thrilled to finally strike that chord of fear.
Lucian finishes with my body and begins washing my hair. A moan escapes my lips as his fingers gently massage my sore scalp. The headache I had awoken with begins to abate slightly as the warmth of the water releases some of the tension there. I close my eyes and give myself up to the pleasure of his hands.
I am shaken from the trance I’ve fallen into by the feel of Lucian’s hand encircling my neck and bringing my face to his. “He’s gone, baby. There is nothing left of him on you. My hands and my scent are all you’ll feel and smell now. Your bed was changed while we were in here, as well, so we are beginning anew. Okay?”
I nod in reply as the never-ending tears, which seem to leak of their own accord from my eyes continue. He rubs them away with his fingertips, and then as if it has just occurred to him, he grabs a fresh cloth and wets it before washing my entire face as if I were a child. My love for him in this instant knows no equal. He is here when most would have walked away. He looks at my marked body and it’s as if he sees only beauty. No matter what happens in the future, I know with unerring certainty that I will never love another as I love him. I touch the scar at his throat, telling him without words that his pain is mine just as mine is his. We’ve both been hurt by someone in our lives, but against all odds, we have found each other. He is the answer to my prayers, and I can only hope that I’m not his worst Hell. Going forward, our fates are intertwined because the fragile bond that had been forming between us, has been solidified and only a deep tragedy could tear it apart. I wrap my hand around his and simply stare up at him. I know he must see my feelings for him in my eyes and I do nothing to hide them. “Thank you,” I whisper into his palm before placing a kiss there, and we both know I’m thanking him for more than the bath.
He swallows audibly before brushing his lips against mine. His only answer is, “Always, baby.”
I cling to those words, feeling a neediness I’ve never felt before. I understand it’s normal considering the trauma I’ve endured, but I wonder if I’ll ever be able to return to a time that I could exist without him. I lower my eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the panic I feel at the mere thought of a life without Lucian Quinn in it.