“Are you okay?” I ask, my fingers working frantically to loosen the knots, but they’re tied so tightly.
“No. No, I’m not fucking okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.
“I didn’t rape her.”
“I know that, Ezra. I know. What did she do to you? God, what happened?”
“I need a fucking shower. Fuck. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just…” my voice cracks, “he pulled the trigger on you and you would’ve died if it hadn’t misfired.” I manage to free one of the knots and focus my attention on pulling the long length of rope through the loop, rather than let the reality of that truth sink in.
A tense, terrified silence falls between us as I work quickly to undo the heavy knots. It feels like it takes me forever to pull them free. His wrists finally separate with the knot I’ve just undone, but the rope is still tied to his right wrist. As soon as he’s able to pull his arms apart, he shoves my hands away and throws his arms around me. The dangling ends of rope whip around to lasso me to him.
“I thought I was dead,” he whispers. “I thought I was dead, and I left you behind.”
His words grip me and shake loose the tears I’ve been holding back. I press my face into his bare chest and let them fall free. “That was terrifying. I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”
He half-sobs, half-chuckles as he kisses my hair. He pulls back to examine my face with his hands holding my cheeks. “Never? After all you’ve been through?”
I blink up at him and it’s hard to see him clearly with the gloss of tears clouding my vision. “The thought of losing you, of living this life alone without you…it’s the most frightening thing I can think of.”
He bends and kisses my forehead before clutching me in his arms. I feel him shake. I feel the heaving of his chest as he cries, though he tries to hide it from me, muffling the sounds with his face nuzzled into the side of my neck. It threatens to shatter my aching heart, but I find my strength in his sadness, too. He’s been strong for me so many times before and I want to give him this, give him my strength so he can fall apart here with me.
For the moment, we’re safe.
Safe and together—a rare, precious moment for us to find in this world.
A minute or so passes before I quietly ask, “What happened with Renata?”
His body goes rigid. He pulls back and slips from my grasp. “I need a shower.” He spins away, heading for the attached bathroom through the open door behind us.
I follow him but stop in the doorway. He marches straight toward the glass-enclosed shower, pulls open the door, and steps inside, still in his underwear. He closes the door shut behind him and my breath catches in my chest at the immediate separation he creates between us.
I move forward—stopping in front of the glass door—and watch as he rips off his boxer briefs, turns on the water, and dips his head under the flow. The rope still wrapped around his wrist looks heavy the way it hangs as he lifts his palms to press against the tile in front of him. He looks so troubled, so conflicted, but worst of all, distant.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand to have a barrier between us after what just happened. When Lorenzo pulled the trigger on him, I thought I’d lost him forever. I don’t even have words to describe the kind of primal, raw pain that tore through my soul as I stood by watching helplessly.
No.
No separation between us.
I kick off my shoes, tear open the glass door, and step inside the shower before he can protest.
I slip between him and the tiled wall where the waterfall spills down on me and soaks my dress. I flinch and tense up as the water rolls down my back—just as I always do anytime water touches me now—but I force my bravery for him because he needs me. I would jump into the ocean to save him if he were drowning.
“Don’t shut me out,” I tell him.
“Anya—”
“Don’t. I don’t know what she did to you. I don’t know how she hurt you. But you can’t avoid me. You can’t. I need you to need me.”
He stares down at me, his eyebrows slanting toward his nose as his eyes burn me with his mystical green flames. His voice is gruff and quiet and haunting. “She fucked me and made me come inside her and I’ve never felt so…”
Oh, God.
I don’t know why that shocks me, but it does. I fall back, leaning against the wall behind me for support as I look up at him with the truest empathy.
I know what he feels.
I know there are no words fitting enough to describe it.
“Do you hate me?” he whispers with a tilt of his head.
“I love you.” I can’t get the words out fast enough. “Ezra, I love you, always. I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head, stepping in close, taking my face in his hands and pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do. You earned me. You’re mine. Mine. Not hers.”
His hands slip down the sides of my neck, grazing my skin and landing on my shoulders. “Yours,” he says, though it lacks conviction.
Does he feel unworthy?
“Say it again but mean it this time.”
He sighs. “I want to be yours.”
“You are mine. You are. Tell me you’re mine, Ezra.”
His eyes press shut, his face pulling tight, revealing the pain he feels from what Renata did to him. “Did you hear me, Anya? I came for her…inside her. How can you still call me yours? I wasn’t strong enough for you. I couldn’t fight it…I couldn’t control myself.”
I slam my hands against his chest and shove him back, pushing hard enough that he hits the wall behind him. His mouth drops open in surprise as my eyes narrow on him.
“For all the times Nikolai raped me and made me come for him when the only man I ever wanted to come for was you. Was I not worthy of you then? Did you disown me in your mind because he made my body do things my heart didn’t want? Did that make me weak? Should I have fought my body harder when he demanded I come just to avoid painful punishment?” I shove him again. “How dare you say that to me?”
I turn away, flinching as the water splashes onto my face and I instinctively gasp for air. My body suddenly feels heavy, weighted down as if I were surrounded by water, drowning in it.
Take off the stupid dress.
I reach behind me for the zipper, but in my agitation, my fingers struggle to find it. I fumble and the fumbling quickly turns to urgency to remove the weight of the soaked layers of tulle and lace.