Second Debt (Indebted #3)(60)

Countless contraptions existed that I could use to warm Nila.

We had a steam room, sauna, and spa.

We had everything money could buy.

But none would be good enough.

I needed something bigger, grander…hotter.

I needed something money couldn’t buy: the power of nature.

The scent of sulphur enveloped us as I continued down the corridor and into the humid world beneath Hawksridge. The cave had been discovered after the first part of the Hall had been erected. A workman died falling through the hole when setting new foundations—the cave had been stumbled upon by pure fluke.

Natural springs were a fairly common phenomenon in England—closely guarded by those who had them and a public luxury in places like Bath. Ours had remained a family secret for generations.

The sapphire water never dropped below forty degrees centigrade. Ever. It was consistent and somewhere I used to come a lot—somewhere that Jasmine visited almost daily with her maid to ease her atrophied muscles.

Moisture dripped from the earthen walls, plopping quietly back into the pool where it’d come from. A perpetual circle of death and rebirth.

I didn’t stop to strip.

I didn’t waste a moment.

Holding Nila tight against my chest, I walked down the carved steps and into the shoulder-deep spring. Every wade made my skin tingle and burn. I couldn’t handle such warm waters all at once—I had to ease into it, allow the ice inside my soul to melt little by little.

But now all I cared about was raising Nila’s body temperature.

I didn’t care about my shoes or clothes.

Shit, I didn’t even care I had my cell-phone and wallet in my pocket.

Everything was inconsequential; the urge to heal her before it was too late far too strong.

Not only had I scarred her back, but now I’d scarred her with death.

I have to fix this. Quickly.

As the warm liquid lapped around my waist, it stole Nila’s weight, almost tugging her from my arms. Unwillingly, I unlocked my grip, letting her float away from me, bobbing buoyantly on the surface.

Her eyes didn’t open. She didn’t show any awareness that she felt the warmth after being so cold.

With cupped fingers, I poured hot water over her head, trading the iciness of the lake for the welcoming embrace of the spring.

Waterfall after waterfall I poured on her scalp, careful not to let the droplets slide over her nose or mouth.

It took too long.

The only noise was the gentle splash of water as it rained through my fingers.

Every second waiting for her to wake up ruined my every heartbeat.

I lost track of time. My eyes never left her blue, blue lips, and it was only when the deep colour began to fade that I finally relaxed a little.

Her fingertips weren’t ice cubes any longer, thawing thanks to the warmth of the water.

When she finally did start to rouse, she began to shiver.

Violently.

Her teeth chattered and her hair tangled on the surface, jerking with every tremble.

Gathering her close, I held her as ripples arched from the epicentre of her body, fanning out to lap against the three metre wide pool.

Every twitch from her resonated in me—I didn’t think I’d ever be stable again.

I continued to pour water over her head, cascading it over her frozen ears, willing her cheeks to turn pink.

Her soft moan was the second sign of her being alive. However, if she was aware of what I did, she didn’t show it—she refused to open her eyes.

I couldn’t blame her.

I wouldn’t want to look at the man who’d done this either.

Sighing, I pressed my forehead against hers. No words could convey everything I felt. So I let silence do it for me.

I filled the space with so much f*cking regret. Regret for today, for yesterday, for tomorrow. For everything I was and could never be.

I didn’t know how long we hovered in the cave beneath my ancestral home, but slowly the silence filled with more than just sorrow and apology. It filled with a need so fierce and cruel, I struggled to breathe.

Pulling back, my eyes met Nila’s black ones.

I froze as she slowly stood upright, dropping her legs beneath the water. Her hands moved. Slowly and weakly, she cupped my face.

I stiffened within her hold.

A hitched sigh fell from my lips.

I would permit her to slap me. I would let her take out her rage. After all, I deserved it.

I knew she was angry. The colour in her cheeks and glitter in her eyes hinted at her rage. I felt her temper building as surely as I felt the small eddies of natural thermals in the water.

I nodded, bracing for punishment.

But she didn’t move.

We just stared and breathed and tried to understand each other’s betrayal.

My lips tingled for hers. My cock wept for her body. And my heart…shit my heart begged to unlock and let her own it.

“I forgive you,” she finally whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

That one phrase cleaved me in two, and for the first time in my life, I broke. I wanted to f*cking cry over a lifetime of misuse. Over a childhood I’d never been able to enjoy and an adulthood I’d never been able to embrace.

I wanted to f*cking kill for what I still had to do and for what I had become.

I should slip beneath the water and take my own life. I was done fighting. Done pretending.