Final Debt (Indebted #6)(112)

Sitting higher in bed, I nodded at his silent requests.

Why is he wet?

His discarded, sodden clothes stained the emerald carpet; his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes were wild. His hair wet and tangled. And his smell spoke of everything he’d done and done alone.

Copper for blood.

Soot for fire.

Metal for weapons.

And salt for sadness.

We didn’t speak.

He was on the precipice of breaking.

I was the strong one in this dawn-lit moment. I was the one who had to save him.

I’ve got you.

Soaring upward, I scrambled out of the covers and kneeled before him. Silently, I wrapped my arms around his quaking shoulders. I’d removed the sling before falling asleep and my cast rasped against his soft skin.

I hadn’t taken my shift off and the iciness of his body thawed into mine, delivering snow storms and blizzards the longer I held him.

He’s so cold.

I hugged him harder, begging him to respond.

But he just stood there, trembling, shivering, his breath scattering hot and cold into my hair as I nuzzled against his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Pressing warm lips against his frigid shoulder, I crawled on my knees closer to his marble-like form.

A gasp escaped him as I smoothed back his hair, kissing my way up his neck to his ear. “You’re with me now. Feel how much I love you. Concentrate on how happy I am that you’re back.”

I never stopped kissing him, stroking him, willing him to come back to life. “Jethro, focus. Forget everything. Let me in.”

Suddenly, his back bent, and he sagged in my hold. His arms flew around me, crippling me against his hard muscles. I didn’t speak, but his soul screamed for help.

I let him hold me. I let him shake and shudder.

Time held no meaning as we existed in each other’s embrace and fed each other with love and togetherness. I would hold him for the rest of my life and ensure he never felt anything but acceptance, adoration, and unconditional love.

“It’s okay.” My voice hung around us, glittering like fireflies, warming up his ice-ridden body. “I love you. I’m here for you. Feel what I feel. Live in how much you mean to me.”

With a loud groan, Jethro scooped me from the bed. His arms bunched around me, cradling me gently as he carried me toward the bathroom.

My broken arm rested in my lap as I permitted him to do whatever he needed. I wouldn’t fear him. I wouldn’t question him or give him any reason to sense hesitation or unwillingness.

He wasn’t well. His strength had reached depletion, but something drove him onward. Something he needed to abolish to find peace.

I was his. He was mine.

I would be his everything until he’d gathered his scattered psyche and returned to me.

Silently, Jethro traded the room for the shower. The same shower where he’d caught me with the water jet between my legs. The same bathroom where I finally knew I was falling for him, despite everything.

Silently, he turned on the hot spray and walked directly under it.

My dress became instantly sodden, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was reanimating my lover, protector, husband-to-be by any means necessary. Cupping his nape, I pulled his face toward mine.

He didn’t fight me as our lips met.

He sucked in a tattered breath as I licked his bottom lip, worshipping him sweetly. His eyes closed, his arms gathered me closer, and the world became just us, water, and steam.

Opening his mouth, his tongue met mine hesitantly, apologetically.

I hated that he’d forgotten our promises and commitment. That he didn’t trust my vow to marry him. That he wasn’t sure I could love him after tonight.

Holding his neck tighter, I pressed our lips together harder.

He groaned as I tasted his sadness, licking away his worry, replacing it with welcoming passion.

Slowly, he responded. The ache inside him unfurled, the pressure and stress siphoning down the drain as more droplets cascaded over us. Our heartbeats communicated in-tune with worded confessions.

“I killed him.”

“I know.”

“I hated him.”

“I know.”

“But I loved him, too.”

“I understand.”

His tongue teased my bottom lip. His heart cracked open and poured everything he’d done.

“I hurt him.”

“He deserved it.”

“I liked it.”

“That’s okay.”

“I loathed it.”

“That’s okay, too.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“Yes, he deserved to pay.”

“He asked for forgiveness.”

“Did you give it?”

“Yes.

“Oh, Kite…” I kissed him harder, our lips turning from dancing to fighting.

“He apologised.”

“He should.”

“He regretted his actions.”

“Good.”

“In the end, he was the father I always knew he could be.”

“It’s over now.”

Jethro dropped me to my feet, crushing me against the tiles. My cast was drenched, but I had no concerns apart from Jethro. My dress clung to me, highlighting straining nipples, and the fact I had no underwear on beneath the shift.