“Unfucked?” he asked, the barest hint of a smile spreading his lips as he reached into his shower and turned on the water. He turned me to face the shower stall, pushing me forward until I stepped beneath the spray.
The water tinted pink as I let it wash over my face, running down the drain with a color I didn’t want to consider. “Mhmm,” I hummed, running my hands over my body as he watched. I smiled as his eyes followed my hands as I worked the body wash into a lather and rubbed it on my breasts.
“Get clean,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “You’ll be safe here until I get back.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, trying not to think of how genuine my pout was. I hated the idea of being ignored, of not being given the attention I wanted when I so rarely wanted anything.
It was easier not to want, but I wanted him.
“To look for anyone who looks like they got into a war with a hellcat,” he said, turning to the bathroom door.
“You won’t find them,” I said, calling after him.
He froze, spinning to pin me with a glare. “Why wouldn’t I? I think you’ll find I’m quite resourceful, and there’s no corner of this school I do not know.”
I paused, running conditioner through my hair before I answered. “You won’t find them because I didn’t fight.”
“Them? More than one person beat the fucking shit out of you, and you didn’t fight?” he asked, the sudden stillness in his body enough to chase away the remnants of being blood drunk.
“Not every fight is worth fighting,” I whispered, running my fingers through my hair as I stood beneath the spray.
“You could have been killed,” he said, his face twisting with something that felt too much like recognition.
I turned away, staring at the tiled shower as I prepared to lay the darkest part of me open and raw. It was a calculated choice, a strategy. I closed my eyes tightly.
But that didn’t make it any less true.
“And if I was? What difference would it have made?” Silence arched between us as I opened my eyes slowly, meeting the storm waging in his eyes with a twist of my lips as I fought back the burn of tears. “The only person who would care is—”
Gray closed the distance between us, stepping into the shower and backing me into the wall. Water beat down on his head, slicking his dark hair to his skin as his eyes sparked with anger.
“I. Would. Care.”
My heart thumped in my chest, the conviction in those words almost enough to make me believe them. If only it were possible.
“Gray,” I murmured, shaking my head as he grasped my chin and raised my gaze back to his.
That hand slid to cup my jaw, his fingers grazing the side of my neck. “You fight. Every moment of every day, you fight. Because that is who you are,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine.
“What happens when I’m tired of fighting?” I asked, trying to ignore the pool of tears threatening to fall. Hoping the water from the shower would wash them away before he could notice.
His face softened, his lips touching mine in a kiss that was so much more delicate than any other. “Then you let me do it for you.”
30
WILLOW
Gray laid me on the bed, his clothes dripping all over the floor as he tended to me first. Helping me shift beneath the blankets, he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that I was naked in his sheets as he turned away and strode into the bathroom.
I stared at the ceiling as my fingers clutched the blanket to my chest, feeling more laid bare than I’d allowed in… longer than I could remember. I’d had Ash before, had the innocent love of my little brother to keep me motivated.
I still did, in a way. Still had the knowledge that what I did would give him a better life in the end to push me forward. But I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut. The one that questioned if I was really better than any of the people of the Coven whom I’d claimed to hate.
Gray was an asshole. He was infuriating and brought out the absolute worst in me.
But he was also the first person I’d turned to when I was hurt, and even I couldn’t convince myself it had been because of the bargain between us.
My hair was damp against the pillow, the sheets soft against my skin. I lay in the bed of the man who was meant to be my enemy, who, according to the plan my father had decided for me before I’d been born, I would send back to Hell and never see again once I found the bones.
My nostrils flared as I threw back the blankets, swinging my legs over the edge. I hurried to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and pulling it over my head in a hurry. It hung around my hips, drowning me in a way that I didn’t let myself stop to appreciate.