Forbidden (Blood Ties #7)

And this was the only way.

I eased my head backwards under the warmth and turned around, meeting that ravenous gaze. He never looked away, seizing my stare, then slowly looked down. My pulse was booming as he found the scars on my breasts, then the wound at my side, the one that made me look like I’d been chewed up and spat out.

I had.

If onlyhe knewhow.

The bomb that had torn apart the Order had been rushed and sloppy. The call from my father, being held captive in those walls, had set me on a downward spiral. It had made me reckless…and mistakes had happened, one of which I was still healing from. He stared at that wound, no doubt trying to work out what exactly had happened.

My mind raced, trying to create the lie. A car accident? A gas explosion? An innocent bystander in a car bombing? What one would he believe?

None of them.

My hand slowed, trailing the soap in my hands along my stomach and lower. He wouldn’t believe a thing I said. That’s why he wouldn’t ask and I needed him not to. I continued the slide, slipping my hand between my thighs.

The muscles of his throat flexed as he swallowed. My cheeks burned as I reached up and grabbed the shampoo from the shelf. One good squeeze and I lathered and rinsed my hair before I conditioned it. He watched my every move, searching my eyes more than my body.

Those eyes.

Those hard as steel eyes bored into mine, desperate to peel layer after layer from me.

I looked away, breaking the connection. My pulse was thready and panicked, forcing me to turn and switch off the water. I squeezed my hair, leaving it to slowly drip down my shoulders as I stepped out.

He never made a move to hand me a towel, only stood in the way as I glanced at the neat pile of towels folded at the edge of the vanity. I had no choice but to lean around and press my body against him as I snagged one from the top and yanked it free.

Bastard.

My cheeks burned as I lurched backwards. I swiped the towel down my body and under my arms before drying my hair and wrapping it around my head. He turned around, grabbed another, and advanced.

Panic pushed in, forcing me backwards. “What are you doing?”

He knelt and dropped to one knee as he slid the towel along my legs, catching the trail of water without saying a word. I froze, looking down at him. He took his time, rubbing the plush cotton over the grazes of the accident, then the scars between my thighs and softly dabbed the mess at my side.

“This looks infected,” he murmured.

“I…I ran out of antibiotics.”

He gave ahumph,then rose and placed the towel on the vanity before opening the mirrored cabinet and pulling out a small container.

“What’s that?”

He turned around. “Antiseptic powder. Military grade. Don’t worry, I’m not about to inject you again.”Why not? He’d done it before.I’d be more compliant that way. He knew that. So what’d changed? What in the last few hours had changed that he’d not only decide I was better conscious but that I was…taken care of.I flinched, wrestling with the only possible reason, my cheeks burning as I muttered. “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

He just hinted a smile. “Smart girl.” Then he unscrewed the top and stepped closer. “Now, don’t move.”

I wanted to do anything but stand there while he came closer. But his hands were careful, gentle almost, as they pressed against the top of the wound and squirted the powder between the weeping edges.

I hissed at the sting before grinding my teeth and swallowing the pain.

He straightened instantly, then reached up to tug the towel from my head and fisted my wet hair. “You want to moan? Then moan. Don’t hold it in for me.”

That vicious hold yanked my head backwards. Anger roared, stealing away the bite of pain. “I don’t want tomoan,”I forced through clenched teeth.

He searched my eyes, my spine bowing under his brutal strength. But as I held that stare, I didn’t see cruelty, not like I’d seen before. No…there was something else. Some flicker of sadness hit me in the chest, and he knew it.

He might still be a monster.

But he was in pain.