Fisted my hands and tried not to growl with frustration.
Within five minutes of trying to be nice, I’d ruined everything between us.
Again.
“I just want to be your Protector,” I said dejectedly.
Her breathing hitched, and I fixated on the soft whooshing noise amid the thundering water.
She sounded upset. Was I making her sad? Was she frowning? Sun god, I wished Orion were here to whisper her every facial expression.
I felt lost.
Pathetic.
Unable to be anything but the broken blind man who couldn’t control his vitriol. The man who liked pain when everyone yearned for pleasure. Even my Revered didn’t understand me.
It was my turn to gasp.
Unable to breathe.
Icy fingers grabbed my hand and squeezed. I fixated on the sensation. Every molecule was highly attuned to where we were touching.
“You don’t need to panic,” Arabella said softly. “I know you aren’t a nice guy. I don’t need you to pretend to be someone you’re not.”
I exhaled shakily.
“There’s no pressure.” She squeezed my hand encouragingly. “We’re just sitting here talking, even if it means we argue, although I’m tired of arguing. Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
The tingling sensation in my hand intensified, and my arm went numb.
Shock held me still as I tried to process that she was voluntarily touching me and acting like I hadn’t ruined everything.
I inhaled the steam, warm water, and my Revered’s icy scent.
“It’s difficult,” I blurted out before I’d gathered my thoughts. “Being the weak, blind guy who’s mad at the world.”
Pressure burned behind my eyes, and I cursed myself for speaking so rashly. What the fuck was I doing? She deserved a strong Protector, not a pathetic, broken man who doubted himself.
I opened my mouth to take it back, but her nails dug into my skin.
“Don’t try to take it back,” she said forcefully.
My jaw snapped closed.
She squeezed me, “I want to know the real you, not whatever stupid Protector you need to be.” She scoffed. “What’s the point of all the bullshit we’ve been through and survived if we don’t even know each other?”
The warm water sprayed between us, and I frowned at the melancholy in her voice.
“I’m tired too,” she whispered dejectedly. “If you’re the blind, mean guy, then I’m the depressed bitch who can’t be what anyone wants her to be.”
I curled my fingers around her hand.
“You’re not a bitch,” I whispered.
“And you’re not the weak, blind guy.”
I dug my nails into her skin, like I did for Corvus when he was spiraling. I squeezed to let her know I wasn’t letting her go.
“We’re quite the pair,” she laughed hollowly. “The angel who can’t fly and the assassin who can’t see.”
“I don’t need to see to kill,” I said honestly. “And you just haven’t learned to fly yet.”
She made a noise of disagreement under her breath but didn’t argue.
Silence expanded between us.
“What was it like growing up under the mad fae queen?” I blurted out, then sighed with relief when she didn’t try to pull her hand away.
It felt wrong that I’d lived through her heinous memories but had no idea what her current perspective was on anything.
How had we never asked her about her past?
Just when I thought she wasn’t going to answer, she whispered, “I think it broke me. Permanently.”
My heart twisted in my sternum, and a volcano of rage engulfed me.
Long minutes passed before I could speak. Since she was being so honest, I said, “I used to not like pain. But in the devil realm, the weak males are culled. There’s no such thing as a blind devil because any who make it to adolescence are killed off in the brutal school systems.”
My words hung between us.
She didn’t gasp or give false platitudes like I expected. She squeezed my hand with hers like she was telling me she understood.
After all, with how she’d grown up, she probably did.
I didn’t need to explain to her how cruel childhood could be.
There was something about the cramped tub and scalding water that made it easy to bare my soul.
I spoke words I’d never revealed to another person, not even my mates.
“I don’t know exactly when it happened. All I know is that one day after a beating, I licked the blood off my lips and reveled in the pain. I found myself craving the violence and dreaming about hurting them back. I wasn’t born a monster—I became one.”
The intoxicating icy scent intensified.
Emotions swirled between us.
She whispered back, “I hated my mother, but I never wanted to kill her, and I find myself thinking about her constantly. She was horrible, but I still don’t know how to cope with what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”
The rage intensified inside me, and I scowled.
“You did what you had to do,” I said harshly. “You survived, that’s all you did. You’ve become who you needed to be to live in a cruel world. It’s something to be proud of—not something to be ashamed of.”
Water sputtered off her lips.
She squeezed my hand like we were tethered together. “Then that applies to you too,” she whispered. “You survived despite the bigotry of the devil realm. If I’m not broken—then neither are you.”
I dug my nails harder into her skin and nodded.
“I agree.” My voice was hoarse as I struggled to process the influx of unfamiliar emotions filling my chest. The power she held over me was insane, and I was drowning in her. Gladly.
She shook our hands up and down. “It’s nice to meet you, Scorpius.”
“Same, Arabella.” My voice cracked.
Her breath caught as she inhaled, but she didn’t reprimand me for using her given name.
The unfamiliar emotion tripled in my chest, and it was like sunshine straight to the soul.
Something fragile burned between us.
It was delicate and new. It was everything.
It felt like hope.
Chapter 24
Aran
STEAM
Algophilia (noun): a morbid pleasure in the pain either of oneself or of others.
DAY 11, HOUR 20
Scorpius and I sat across from each other in the narrow tub.
When I’d told Scorpius to sit down fully clothed, I’d assumed he’d scoff and tell me to go fuck myself.
I’d thought he’d only wanted to play Protector and Revered, and I’d assumed if he did stay, that he’d leave after a few minutes. At most, I’d thought we’d talk through some things, spend thirty minutes going over our issues, then resume snarling at each other.
I’d been wrong.
Eight hours later, we still sat across from each other.
Neither of us wanted to leave.
Talking to Scorpius was one of the most intimate things I’d ever experienced. Our legs touched because we were both too tall to fit, but it wasn’t sexual.
Both our voices were scratchy from overuse.
I could tell from the way he clenched his jaw that he was worried I was going to try and leave.
He worried for naught.