“We made it,” she said as she went directly to her bathroom. “Without anyone …”
The moment she saw her reflection in the mirror, she stopped and put her hands up to her cheeks. God … the blood.
Axe stepped in beside her and shook his head. “I didn’t want you ever to see anything like that. Much less get stuck in the middle of it.”
“Is that what your life is like? Going out there … every night … getting almost killed until some lesser finishes the job?”
“Don’t think like that. You can’t.”
“How can I not?” She turned to him and found herself wanting to touch him all over, as if there were bullet holes and other injuries that had somehow been missed on him. “How can I forget?”
As if Axe knew what she needed from him, he put his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. And all at once, she was consumed by the need to have him, her hands rough as she stripped his clothes and her own, the stained pile on the floor left where it landed as they went to her shower.
Whereas his was a simple stall with a tub bottom, hers was an entire enclosure you walked into, six shower heads raining down water that could be programmed to specific temperature preferences. And there was also almost no waiting at all for the warmth.
But she didn’t need the luxury. Not to be with him, now or ever.
After they soaped each other up and down, and rinsed away the gruesome souvenirs of the night, they left the bathroom and she turned off all the lights except one in the far corner. Lying down in her big bed, under her soft sheets, they made love quietly with him on top of her, their eyes meeting as their bodies were joined together. She found her release first, scoring his back with her nails—and he soon followed, his hips jerking and bucking against her, his powerful orgasm filling her up and teeing off another for her.
There was no lingering closeness afterward, though.
“I need to go,” he whispered. “I can’t stay here.”
“Sure you can. My father never comes in my room.”
“I don’t want to take even a small risk of getting you in trouble. I already nearly got you killed tonight.”
As he got out of the warm nest their bodies’ exertions had created, she stood up and pulled on her pink bathrobe—and thought it was a shame to have the stained things he’d worn during the fight put on over his now-clean skin. But he didn’t seem to care.
All too soon, he was standing in front of her, rubbing her shoulders. “I can’t believe how brave you were tonight.”
“Brave? Are you kidding me? To use a vernacular expression, I was crapping in my pants.”
“You walked right up to a lesser, shooting the whole time. If I hadn’t been fucking terrified for you, I would have been totally aroused.”
She smiled a little, but it was hard to hold on to. “When can I see you again?”
“Tomorrow night. And before you ask, yeah, definitely. I’ll let you know the second I hear anything about Peyton.”
“Please.” She frowned, thinking back to the cigar bar. “I’m sorry he was so disrespectful to you. He can be … old-fashioned and difficult sometimes, but he’s not a bad person.”
“I don’t want him to die. And I don’t want trouble from him. He just needs to stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of his.”
Elise nodded and then went into a kind of stasis. She didn’t want him to go, but knew he didn’t feel comfortable staying—and she couldn’t blame him.
“Shit,” Axe breathed. “Come here.”
Safe in his arms, she relaxed and held him close, feeling his warmth and strength.
“I wish there was something I could do to help you,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “I feel like I’m bad for you.”
“No, you’re not.”
After a while, she said, “Actually …” Pulling away from him, she took a deep breath. “There is something you could do for me.”
“Name it,” he replied. “And it’s yours.”
FORTY-SIX
The following evening, Rhage and Mary let Bitty go to the Audience House again to see her uncle.
It wasn’t any easier, Mary decided. Nope. Not something you got used to—especially not after Rhage’s getting shot.
And as the Mercedes took off down the hill once more, she and Rhage went back into the house and stalled out in the foyer. The mansion was largely quiet, First Meal being cleaned up, the Brothers going on about their nights, the shellans, too.
“I kind of feel left behind,” she said as she went over and sat on the lower step of the staircase. “You know, our lives are ending in a way. Everyone else is going on. I mean, I realize that’s sadness talking, but it’s how I feel.”
Rhage came across and joined her. “I’m with you.”
She glanced at him. “I’m so glad you were wearing that vest last night. But why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s just an addition in gear. You know, after that last chest wound—that was too close a call, even for me. And with Bitty around …” He cleared his throat. “So, yeah, I asked Fritz to get me some. I tried a number of them out. And the one I had on last night is my favorite. Worked like a charm, too.”
“Are you going to order another one?”
He shrugged. “Guess so.”
Mary put her arm around his shoulders—well, not all the way around because of his size. “Bitty was so glad you’re okay.”
“She’s a sweet kid.”
As Rhage looked at his hands and pretend-picked at his clipped nails, Mary felt a now-familiar mourning that she recognized she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life. There would be times when it wouldn’t be this acute, she told herself. Times when it was even worse. But it was now her companion, a scar on her insides that was always going to be there.
She didn’t have to ask Rhage to know that it would be the same for him.
“Do you have any regrets?” she asked softly.
“About taking her in?”
“Yes.”
He was quiet for a long time, and she studied his handsome profile. His blond hair needed a trim. His cheeks seemed hollower than usual. And the grim light in those beautiful blue eyes made him look so much older.
As she rubbed his back, she felt the beast following her touch as she passed over his muscle shirt, the tattooed representation shifting to stay with her.
“I don’t know,” he said. “This is pretty rough. This is really hard. But no, I would still have wanted to take her in. If all I’m supposed to get is two months of being her father to tide her over to her rightful home? Then I’ll be grateful for what I was given. I’d rather me suffer for the next thousand years over not having her than for her to have been alone in the world, getting those arms and legs fixed, wondering where she was going to end up. That trade-off ’s worth it to me.”
Mary laid her head on his biceps. “That’s how I feel, too.”
“I owe you an apology, by the way.”
“About what?”
“I should have told you about what they were going to do to Bitty’s limbs. I didn’t want to concern you, and I was hoping it was all going to be okay.”
“Oh, God … not to worry. Water under the bridge.”