I can still feel him everywhere as I rush to my room. When he had me locked up, all I wanted to do was get out. Now, all I want to do is go back in, stay there and hide. How ironic. Maybe that’s his plan. Get me to lock myself up, so he’s not the bad guy.
God, he’s so infuriating, and everything he does is calculated and planned, manipulating everyone around him to move in a sequence he determines without anyone even realizing it.
Dictator. Asshole.
Or maybe I’m just full of shit and paranoid as fuck because my husband bred me like I’m some goddamn animal, got me pregnant and locked me in my room. It’s so insane. I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it. Only the occasional nausea and tender breasts manage to nail down the reality of it.
Now, the ache between my legs reminds me just how fucked up everything is. My husband deceived and lied to me, yet I can’t resist being branded by his touch, my twisted desire outwitting my broken heart. The lines have become so blurred that I no longer know where the lines are. I don’t even know if there have ever been any lines when it comes to Alexius and me. I don’t think so. Maybe that’s why all this happened. We were doomed from the start because people can’t just pretend that there are no limits, no lines that need to be drawn. You can’t just unravel and expect there to be no consequences.
This is our consequence. It’s both obsession and misery.
I wipe my tears with my sleeve while trying to keep the torn fabric of my shirt in place above my shoulder. Alexius didn’t think twice before tearing at my clothes, and I didn’t think twice about not stopping him.
I should have stopped him.
Should have. Could have. Didn’t.
I’m such a fool. One touch, and he broke through my armor. One kiss, and I was done for. All the anger and pain in the world can course through my veins, and it would still not be strong enough to fight the pull between us. He was right when he said what we share can burn cities. But I’m afraid it’ll destroy us first. Alexius is a powerful, enigmatic, confident man, which makes him a dangerous one, too—especially to me, a woman with his name engraved into her broken heart. A woman who, after all he’s done, still feels connected to him in a way that seems almost supernatural. Surreal. I don’t just love him. I breathe him as if I exist solely for him.
It’s killing me.
I storm into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I know Maximo is out there in the hall. He’s been following me, guarding me, and he’s not being discreet about it, either. He doesn’t care what I think or what others think. All he cares about is doing what Alexius tells him to do, just like everyone else around here.
I’m a sobbing mess when I reach the shower and turn on the faucet. I don’t wait for the water to warm up before slipping underneath it, soaking my clothes. The cold water is like a thousand needles piercing my skin, but I need it, hoping it will drown out everything I’m feeling.
Heartache.
Regret.
Shame.
I should have fought harder. I should have resisted and not given in to the longing that’s been tearing me open from the inside out. I should have been stronger, proving that he can’t control me like he does everyone else around here. He doesn’t have the right to. The last thing I want is to give him more power than he already has. But I gave him the confidence he needs to continue his display of control over me by giving in to my need for him. It doesn’t matter what he’s done. He’s still the man my body yearns for, even if he is the husband who broke my heart.
Water soaks me, running from my scalp to the ends of my hair, and I imagine him sitting in his dad’s leather chair with a smug grin on his face, smoking a cigar and drinking his expensive whiskey, gloating over his captive wife who couldn’t resist him and his cock. It’s a sickening thought. He admitted not regretting what he’s done, bluntly saying he’d do it again. There’s no remorse when I stare into his iridescent eyes, no apology in the way he looks at me. And letting him fuck me just proved to him that he could do to me whatever the hell he wants, and I’ll still spread my legs for him. No matter how broken I am, I’d still be his filthy little slut.
Self-loathing slithers through the cracks, a dark cloud forcing all the oxygen from my lungs, a storm making it hard to breathe. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I’m going to be a mother in a few months. How will I teach my children to be responsible and make good choices when I can’t do it myself? The thought terrifies me. It spreads ice through my bones, squeezing my stomach, tearing at my insides with the teeth of barbed wire. It leaves me gasping for air, the bitter taste of fear on my tongue.
The water starts to warm, my wet clothes clinging to my body like the humiliation sticks to my soul. The ache between my legs reminds me of how weak and stupid I am. I made a fool of myself, and no matter how scalding the water is, it doesn’t rinse off the shame.
I’m that girl again. The one who walked into this house for the first time, insecure, lost, and alone. The woman who felt scared and intimidated by a man who would become her husband. A stranger. A man who would ultimately take her heart and make it his and own her in every way.
All I’ve ever wanted was to know peace—to wake up every morning as blissfully happy as I was when I fell asleep. I might be the stray he picked up off the streets who somehow managed to survive a dark childhood. But I’m still just a girl who dreams of love and a happy ending. And I was so sure I had found that with Alexius, but I was wrong. So wrong.
I fall to my knees, water cascading down my face as I sob into my palms. Steam builds up around me, and I’m left to drown in my pain. I just want it to stop. I want to stop hurting. I want to stop feeling like I’m mourning. Like I got someone taken away from me. Someone who holds my soul in the palms of his hands.
Someone who says he loves me, yet his actions speak otherwise.
Someone who says he can’t bear to lose me, yet everything he does pushes me away.
Someone who can mend and break my heart at the same time.
Someone I love so much, it’s happiness and agony all at once.
Alexius.
I clutch my stomach, my cries hacking out of my chest. Every bone is being broken repeatedly, and I can’t stop it. I’m being cracked wide open, bleeding fucking tears, and it only worsens with each passing second.
“Please make it stop!” I scream, crippled with agony, water pelting down. I can’t breathe. There’s too much pain weighing on my chest. “Please stop!”
“Leandra!”
“Make it stop!”
Arms wrap around me, and I choke on a breath when I’m clutched tightly. “What the hell is going on?”
I open my eyes and look up into soft, familiar brown eyes. “Isaia,” I cry.
“Jesus Christ, Leandra.” He wipes wet hair from my face, rocking me back and forth. “What did he do, huh? What the fuck did my brother do?”
New sobs erupt as if my wounds are torn open and clawed at. “Help me,” I plead, folding myself into him. “Make it stop, please.”
“I got you.” He cups my cheek, tightening his hold around me. “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”
“I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
“Just breathe.” He rests his chin on my head. “Deep breaths.”
“I love him so much, Isaia.”
“I know you do.”
“And I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Motherfucker doesn’t deserve you,” he mutters, his gaze following the trail his finger leaves on my cheek. “You’re too good for my brother.”
I bury my face in his chest, his shirt soaked, both of us flat on our asses in the running shower. It’s comforting having his arms around me, but somehow it only makes me cry more. It’s as if his being here, holding me, consoling me, is permitting me to be sad—giving me approval so I can acknowledge that I’m broken and allowed to weep.
I have no idea how long we sit there or when I stopped crying, but my entire life feels surreal as Isaia picks me up, helping me out of the shower. Everything is hazy. It’s as if my mind decided to shut down, silencing my thoughts. Paralyzing me.
“Here. You need to dry yourself off before you freeze.” Isaia holds out a towel, but I don’t have the strength to take it. I’m exhausted, like I just lived a thousand lifetimes in an hour.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Let me help you.” He reaches for the hem of my shirt, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nod because I have no choice but to accept his help. I’m useless on my own, a complete fucking mess, and I’d probably stand here freezing to death without knowing it’s happening.
Isaia moves closer, easing my wet shirt up my waist, and I lift my arms so he can ease it off and over my head. He throws my shirt in the hamper, and I don’t care that I’m standing half naked in front of him. I’m too numb to care.
Keeping his steady eyes fixed on me, he takes the towel and starts drying my hair, squeezing water from the ends, gently fluffing moisture from the strands, rivulets of water running down my back. His white shirt clings to his chest, every roped muscle showing through the wet fabric, puddles of water gathering around his feet.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he stills.
“Don’t.”
“I really am.”
“I don’t know what my brother’s done, but I already know you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I should be stronger than this, but I’m not.”
“Leandra,” he tips my chin up so I look him in the eye, “keep quiet and let me take care of you.”
I purse my lips tightly, suppressing a fresh waterfall of tears. He knows how much I need this—how much I need to let go of the strength I’ve been grasping on to so I can keep myself from falling. I want to let go. And right now…he’s here to catch me.
He moves to stand behind me, and I close my eyes as he eases the towel down my back. I shiver as the cold starts to slither across my skin, and Isaia places the soft towel over my shoulders. I take it between my fingers, pulling it tighter around me.
“You trust me, right?”
I glance halfway over my shoulder, nodding as I suck my bottom lip into my mouth.
He crouches and reaches beneath the towel, his touch calm and light, fingers brushing against my waist. Slowly, he slips my pants down and steadies me as I step out of them, water dripping from the fabric. Nothing about this makes me feel uncomfortable. All I feel is comfort. There’s a sense of solace with him here, and for a moment I don’t want him to ever leave. Somehow, the pain seems…less now that he’s here.
I hang my head down as he straightens behind me, and I clasp the towel tighter in front of my chest. I’m sure I have my tears and emotions under control…until he wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me against him so tight, his kindness overwhelms me.
The walls break, and I sink into him, letting go of all the strength I’ve tried to hold on to, and I fall. I’m breaking while Isaia holds on to all the pieces. It’s liberating and freeing to let go, knowing someone is keeping me from hitting the ground. I’m not alone, and the relief is almost too much.
“You’re always there,” I say through tears, remembering how he walked me down the aisle. “You’re always there when I’m alone.”
“I care for you, and I always will.” His arms tighten around me, and he rests his forehead against the top of mine. “I’ll always be there for you, Leandra. No matter what.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, appreciating what he means to me more than words could express.
Abruptly, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me into the bedroom, placing me on the bed. I roll over on my side, clutching a pillow, and I swear I can smell Alexius on the silk—a fusion of wild spice cologne and sex. He’s everywhere—on my sheets, my skin, my heart…inside me. Alexius is inside me. His babies are growing inside me. Twins.
Does Isaia know? He hasn’t been around at all lately. I don’t know what Alexius has told him.
The bed dips beside me, and Isaia gathers me in his arms, pulling me up so he can cradle me against his chest as he leans against the headboard. His being here soothes the storm raging inside me for too long, leaving me exhausted, so I close my eyes as calm sweeps over me.
“Sleep, baby girl,” he whispers, placing a chaste kiss on my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time in so long…I sleep.
