I groan and roll over onto my side, blinking my eyes open. I instantly recoil against the bright light. My head is pounding, and it feels like everything is spinning around me. Damn that doctor and his stupid drugs. My arm throbs beneath the layer of bandages, the skin pulling uncomfortably tight with every move.

“Avecita.” That deep rough voice whispers over my senses, and I relax instantly. My heart lets out a single staggered beat as the scent of cigar smoke and citrus engulfs me. I turn to face him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed. As he looks at me, I remember all the times I pictured his face when I was locked in that room. My memories never did him justice. But he kept me from the brink, from tipping over the edge into total desolation.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” I say quietly.

His eyes narrow. “You slit your wrist. You are not okay.”

I glance down at my bandaged wrist. “I cut my arm. And it was necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” His voice rises slightly, and I can see him fighting back the anger. It’s what Rafael does—when he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions, he gets mad.

“To retreat inside myself. It’s…a survival mechanism.” I try my best to explain it. “But this time, I couldn’t get out.” He drops his chin to his chest and releases a heavy breath.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he chokes out.

“Never.” I reach out and thread my fingers through his.

“You tried to kill yourself, Anna.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just needed something physical.”

“You nearly died.” He pulls away from me and stands, pacing across the room. “Do you understand that? You nearly died.”

I smile sadly. “But I wasn’t living anyway, was I?”

He takes a deep breath and rounds the bed, coming to sit next to me. “Avecita, I love you…but I don’t think…” He hesitates and takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I can help you. I’m not what you need.”

My heart rate rises fast. “What?” I grab his arm so hard I can feel my nails bending against his skin, but I don’t care.

He cups my cheek. “There are places. People who can help you.”

Panic creeps up on me until my lungs feel as though they’re shrinking. He wants to send me away. After I fought so hard to get back to him. “No. Please don’t.” My breaths get shorter—my chest squeezing until I’m suffocating.

“Anna! Fuck. Breathe.” He strokes over my face, whispering sweet words in my ear. Tears stream down my face and my fragile heart lets out a pitiful cough.

“Please don’t leave me,” I beg. Of course he wants to leave you. You fucked all those men. You’re unclean. The pain I wanted so badly to feel, consumes me until I feel like I’m standing in flames, feeling the heat lick over my skin. “Please don’t.”

“Shit.” He grabs me and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around my body. “I don’t know how to fix this, little warrior.”

“I understand if you…don’t want me anymore.”

He pushes me away from him and grabs my face in both hands, staring into my eyes. My pain is mirrored there in his dark irises. “I will always want you, but you need help.”

I shake my head. “I just need you.”

“You need to deal with what they did to you—”

“Stop.” I don’t want to think about them, or anything. He’s the only thing keeping the barrage of vile emotions at bay, and I can feel them right there, hovering, just waiting to burn me. I need to feel nothing but this for a little while longer.

Sliding my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him closer and press my lips over his desperately. He’s hesitant and careful, not like he usually is. I crawl closer to him, threading my fingers through his hair and demanding more. A feral need washes over me. I need him to right all the wrongs. I know he can cleanse me.

He groans when I straddle his lap, his fingers gripping my waist. “Anna,” he breathes against my mouth.

Taking my shoulders, he pushes me back until his eyes meet mine. He swipes both thumbs beneath my eyes, wiping away tears. As I stare into those dark eyes, something skitters in my chest, like birds taking flight all at once, wings beating frantically. I lean forward and kiss him again. His hands slide along my jaw as his lips move over mine gently. Hard and yet soft, that’s what Rafael is. He tastes like sunshine and exotic flowers, and the wildness of the desert. He feels like home. I have no real home, but I think he’s it.

One hand drops to my waist, and he tugs me closer until I’m plastered against his body. “Avecita,” he breathes against my lips. “You need…”

“I need you.”

His forehead touches mine and he groans. “You can’t put a band-aid on this. I won’t lose you again.” His voice comes out as a choked rasp.

“You won’t. You’re always the one to save me.” He physically saves me, but his love keeps me from the darkest parts of myself. My love for him was enough to pull me from the very depths of myself. “I love you,” I whisper.

The last few months have changed me, broken me a little more perhaps, but they also made me realize that life is short and fragile. I didn’t know if I would see him again. Every time Nicholai’s soldiers paid me a visit, the thing that wounded me more than anything was that these men were taking from me, just as so many before them had, and they were getting a part of me they didn’t deserve. A part that I had never even given to the one man I loved. Maybe I simply didn’t realize how much Rafael meant until that point, until this point.

He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over the spot where my little finger used to be. The reminder of my greatest betrayal: my own sister. I close my eyes and a stray tear tracks down my face. I’m sad, but mainly I’m so angry. I’m angry with them. I’m angry with myself for being so helpless and pathetic. I’m angry at the injustice.

I want him to take all the bad memories and erase them. I need him to break me so completely that only he can put me back together again.

“Take it away,” I beg. I lean in and kiss him, catching the corner of his lip before brushing my mouth over his. “Please.” He remains motionless, and I take a deep breath, bracing myself before I reach for the buttons of his shirt. I get two undone before his fingers wrap around my wrist, stilling me.

“Anna, you’ve been through a lot.”

The rejection washes over me, so hard and fast that it knocks the breath from my lungs. I snatch my hand away from him and back away until I hit the headboard. God, it hurts, more than I ever thought it would. I never saw a day where I would willingly offer myself to anyone, and he doesn’t want me. He groans. “Don’t do that.”

“Can you just…leave? Please.” I feel the crater of space ripping wide between us as my wounded little heart limps along in a jilted beat.

“No.” His fingers wrap around my ankle, and he drags me down the bed until my back hits the mattress. His huge body presses over mine until he’s staring down at me. “You don’t get to shut down on me like that. You don’t get to spend the last month like a zombie, only to slice yourself up and then act like everything is okay.” I close my eyes and tears track down my temples. He’s so angry, his body trembling over mine. “You don’t get to just leave me like that,” he says, quieter now.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. I can’t do this. The moment of bravery I had has gone, and now I’m purely ashamed. He doesn’t want you. Why would he? You’re dirty and used. You’re a filthy whore. I cover my face with my hands, and a sob chokes past my lips.

“Little warrior, you can’t break on me now,” he whispers, his lips brushing over my shoulder.

“You’re ten years too late for that.” My voice is strangled and raspy.

He pulls my hands away from my face and pins them to the mattress above my head. “You may be down. You may be a little bashed up, but you’re never broken, avecita. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His eyes flick over my face. “It’s why I love you.”

“But not enough to want me.”

He huffs a small laugh. “Little warrior, you have been the bane of my existence since I laid eyes on you. To want something that you know you’ll destroy so badly; it’s a particular form of torture.”

“Then why—”

“Because I have to know you’re ready. This can’t be an attempt by you to forget what they did to you.”

“It’s not.”

“You sure about that?” I chew my bottom lip and drop my gaze away from his. He leans in, trailing his nose up the side of my neck.

“They took something from me that I didn’t want them to have,” I say quietly. “I hate that they’ve had a part of me you haven’t.”

“Why?” He pulls back, his eyes locking with mine. I say nothing for a moment, and he lifts a brow. “I need to hear you say the words, avecita.”

“Because it’s different.” His lips twitch in a hint of a smile. “Because you aren’t them.”

“No, I’m not.” His lips brush over mine, his fingers releasing my wrists and trailing down the length of my arm, over the bandages on my wrist. “Ask me again,” he says against my lips, his breaths ragged.

“Please take it all away,” I breathe.

He kisses me again, his fingers skating my stomach and pushing the tank top up, our lips breaking apart only so he can remove the material. His eyes never leave mine as he sits up and strips my pants and underwear. Nervousness flutters through my stomach, and that flight instinct teeters just on the edge of my consciousness, but I fight it. Rafael unbuttons his shirt, revealing hard muscle, tanned skin and endless ink winding over every inch of him. He’s beautiful in a feral, wild way. He’s something that can’t be tamed or leashed, a beast with the inclination to bite, and yet, the way his fingers trail over my skin, the way he looks at me; I know he would never hurt me. He’s my beast.

He strips until there’s nothing between us, and then his body is pressing over mine, his hot skin branding every inch of me until I’m burning up. His fingers skate over my jaw, his eyes searching my face. “So beautiful.”

I blush, feeling exposed in ways only he can elicit. He strips me in every possible way until I feel like I’m standing before him with my heart clutched in my hand, offering it to him. He could hurt me more than any of the men who have come before him because he has something they didn’t: my trust, my heart, my soul. It’s all so very fragile, and yet I want him to have it. He’ll either bind all the fragmented pieces of my soul, or he’ll destroy it so entirely there’ll be no coming back.

His lips brush over my neck, my collarbone, my breast, my stomach. With each tiny touch, I tremble. He keeps going until his broad shoulders are resting between my thighs. “Look at me,” he demands.

I do, and as our eyes lock, he places his mouth on me. It feels wrong and yet so right. I want to both pull away and never move. This isn’t like last time though. I know what’s coming. Foreign sensations wash over me, sparks igniting from somewhere deep within. My body moves of its own violation, my back bowing away from the bed. And then he stops. I glance at him, and he smiles wickedly, placing a kiss on my lower stomach. He sits up and slides an arm around the small of my back, yanking me off the mattress until we’re face to face, my thighs either side of his. Our lips are barely an inch apart. I can feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest against mine, and his hot skin brushes against me, I shiver. Fingers slide around the back of my neck, his forehead touching mine. “You okay?”

I force a small smile, my courage dwindling. “Yeah.”

“Then focus on me.” He pulls back a fraction, his eyes imprisoning mine as his hands slide to the top of my thighs. He lifts me, and I instantly feel him, pressing against me there. My heart beats faster and my breaths speed as every muscle tenses. “Anna, look at me.” I can’t. My mind starts to spin, thoughts melding into a muddy blur like static on a TV. I can’t focus, I can’t think. Survival instincts override everything logical, and I feel myself gravitating toward that dark little hiding place deep within myself. “I love you,” he whispers against my ear. Those three words are like lightening ripping through black clouds, illuminating everything and cutting through the static. Everything stops. There’s a moment of absolute silence, permeated only by the ringing in my ears, and then a single breath sucks into starving lungs. He pushes into me. The storm breaks loose in all its glory, battering against my defenses and washing away everything. It’s chaotic and ugly, yet beautiful. Rafael tears apart all the facets of me that existed before this moment, ripping up my foundations and destroying everything in his path. He lays waste to my body and soul, and all I can do is cling to him as the tears streak down my face. Yes, he ruins me, just like I always knew he would. But then slowly, piece-by-piece, he completes me. Every soft touch, every gentle kiss, each slow roll of his hips feels magnetic. He’s pulling me back together, re-arranging everything I was until it all makes sense—until I’m stronger, better…his own personal masterpiece.

My mind snaps back into place, and the fear, the loathing, the disgust…it all disintegrates as if it never even existed. It’s like nothing before this point was ever of any consequence. Him and I—that’s it. This is it.

His hand cups my cheek, and I focus on him, on the feel of him moving within me, making us one. I grab his face, slamming my lips against his. I want this. I want every little piece of him.

“Anna,” he groans against my lips.

He forces me to experience everything until I’m pulled under a tidal wave of feeling, drowning and yet breathing for the first time. He swaddles me in his love, making an unbreakable vow with his body. He name falls from my lips like a prayer and his muscles tighten beneath my fingers, a long growl working its way up his throat. It’s raw and primitive, my big bad wolf.

When he tries to move away from me, I pull him closer. I’m not ready to let go of him yet. He kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?”

A soft smile pulls at my lips. I wish I could explain it to him, but I can’t. This sensation can’t truly be put into words. I stroke my fingers over his lips. “You’re like coming home when I’ve never had one,” I whisper.

His arms create a band around my back, tightening like a vice. “Good. I want to be your everything.” He has no idea how much he is.

He lifts me, placing me on the bed before he stands completely naked and walks over to the bathroom. I hear the shower start, the water pounding over tile. “You coming to join me?” he says, popping his head around the corner.

“Maybe later?” I need a minute to just…process everything.

“Okay.” The door closes, and he leaves me alone with my thoughts, but when I slowly lower the guard on my mind, expecting a barrage of feelings, there’s nothing—only a blissful acceptance, as though I finally know where I belong. The absence of turmoil is just that; absent. It’s strange.

Rafael is a balm to my battered soul, and for now, it’s quietly healing.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up to bright sunlight streaming through the open balcony doors. Dust particles catch the light, sparkling like little bits of glitter. This morning, the sun is just a little warmer, everything just a little prettier. I stretch, my aching muscles screaming in protest. I can hear the low rumble of a deep voice coming from somewhere nearby. I think it’s Rafael, and the conversation sounds one-sided, so I guess he’s on the phone. 

I roll onto my back and lift my hand, allowing my fingers to play through the dust moats. I sigh when I look at the strange flat void where my little finger once was. I haven’t been present enough to process the simple fact that I’ve lost a finger. It almost looks as though it was supposed to be like that, except it’s not. Part of me is missing. I drop my hand to my side, unable to look at it any longer.

Getting out of bed, I go to the bathroom in search of a bandage or something, anything to cover it. I go to the vanity and glance at my reflection in the mirror. I look pale, the shadows beneath my eyes so dark they’re almost purple, but I look alive again. I no longer look like a walking dead girl, and there’s some relief in that. Tearing my gaze away, I drop to a crouch and rummage around in the bathroom drawers until I find a bandage. With trembling fingers, I try to wrap it around my maimed hand. I know Rafael is there without even looking. His hands cover mine, taking the bandage from me. I fight back tears, unable to look at him. It’s just a finger. There are worse things that could happen. I don’t know why I’m so upset about it, but I can’t bear to look at it.

Rafael says nothing as he starts wrapping my hand in the bandage. “You didn’t have enough bandages already?” A small smile plays over his lips as he wraps and then ties it off.

“I don’t want to see it,” I say hoarsely.

“It’s okay to be upset about it, avecita.”

“It’s just a finger,” I say, more to myself than him. 

His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist. “No one wants to lose a body part,” he says, a trace of amusement in his voice. 

I shake my head. “She didn’t blink.”

He sighs. “Your sister must have her own reasons.”

I lift my gaze to his. “What possible reason can there be for that?”

He grips my jaw, swiping his thumb just below my ear. “You know what kind of a man Nicholai is…”

I step away from him. “Are you defending her?”

He drags a hand through his hair. “No, but…she sacrificed herself for you. She sacrificed her baby.” 

“What if that was always the plan? She is Nicholai’s ‘daughter’.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked at Nero.”

“She’s Elite. They’re trained to seduce, Rafe. Manipulate and kill.”

“Then why kill for Nero in exchange for you?”

I grit my teeth. “Nicholai could have orchestrated the entire thing. You don’t know what he’s like.” I do. He’s sheer madness.

His eyes soften, and I see the pity in his eyes. I don’t want his pity though. I want him to feel the same anger I feel. “And Nero? You think he was in on it? That I was?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know anything anymore, but my sister is a traitor, Rafe.”

He steps closer to me, backing me against the vanity unit. “Fine. You don’t trust Una right now. And you have reason not to trust Nero, but do you really doubt me?”

My eyes meet the endless dark depths of his. “Maybe I should.”

“But you don’t.”

“But you’re the only person I trust. My sister is dead to me. You’re all I have.”

He slides a hand around my neck and pulls me close, pressing his lips into my hair. “Give it time, avecita.” He moves away and turns around, walking out of the room. 

Time? No amount of time can ever make this okay. She was my last hope in a hopeless place, and she betrayed me. And it’s this pain, this blinding level of rage and hatred that made me hide for so long. Because it hurts: soul deep, to the bone, hurt.

The only blood relative I have left, and she turned on me.