“Her soul was too deep to explore
by those who always swam in the shallow end.”
—A.J. Lawless
I wrap my fingers around the knife’s warm handle and let the full weight of the weapon settle in my palm. It’s heavy and powerful. It feels like Adam.
Warmth trickles into my bones as I look back at him.
His muscles strain against his shirt as he forces Raife to straighten, and his eyes run so deep I’m sure he holds my soul in them. If I stare too long, I could drown in his depths.
Until Adam, no one had ever offered me something like this. The right to own myself and all that affects me. He’s granting me his trust, and with that, I can’t help but trust myself.
When Raife’s glare pulls my attention to him, a shiver crawls up my spine. Still, I inch closer, until my hip brushes the desk.
“I don’t know who Katerina is,” I say again, this time to him.
“So you’ve said.” He stares daggers at me as I untuck his shirt, and I’m actually grateful.
I’m so used to his theatrics—from the Dark Room to the chandelier, leaving me to burn then setting me up for Griff. Anger dances in my lungs and climbs up my throat. I almost swallow it back down, but then I remember I don’t have to.
I don’t have to pretend.
Leaning forward, I unbutton the lower half of his shirt then slide my gaze back to Adam. Hesitation burns in my gut as I watch him, letting the knife’s tip hover below Raife’s ribcage. I don’t know what I expect—for him to change his mind now that he sees me going through with it? To reject the side of me that finds pleasure in being able to make Raife pay? Whatever I’m waiting for, Adam doesn’t give it to me. He patiently observes, his eyes tracking my every move.
Finally, I make my first cut. It’s shallow like mine, but still enough to feel the tear beneath my fingers. As the blade slides across Raife’s skin, his muscles tense, but he doesn’t make a sound. I don’t want to see his expression, so I stare at his stomach. It’s pretty, really, if you focus on the colors and the way they spill. His red is the same shade as Adam’s, a slightly deeper hue of crimson than mine, and it runs down his body like it’s trying to escape.
Moving an inch lower, I start on the next. My breaths come out soft and weightless, and I’m drifting with each gentle movement. If the knife were my paintbrush and his body the canvas, I’d blend some black with the crimson to make it murky like his soul. Then I’d add a splatter of cherry around the edges to top off the madness that it sprouts. I think he’d like it, stripped down but maintaining the flare he loves so much.
The third and final cut takes a little longer since it’s the largest. Letting one end curve up more than the other, I tilt my head and smile. It looks just like one of his smirks.
After a moment, when the rest of the room comes back into view and I look at the stained weapon in my hand, I feel the blood drain from my face. With a long exhale, I take several wobbly steps back.
“Well, that was . . .” Felix pauses, clears his throat. “Unexpected.”
My gaze finds Raife’s, and goose bumps race down my arms. I’ve never seen his eyes run so dark.
“And now, brother,” Raife spits, his eyes latched on mine. “Still so certain there’s no Katerina in her blood?”
I have no idea what he’s referring to, but the insinuation is clear. I close my eyes, wishing I could take it back. I didn’t know it would feel like painting. That it’d be able to carry me away. And now they all know it, too.
Back home, I worked in solitude when I put my brush to the canvas. Art is a private piece of me. Now, I may as well have displayed all my canvases for the Matthews to inspect. When my eyes dart back to Raife’s torso, torn and red, I swallow hard.
No, I’m far worse than a girl who paints madness on a canvas.
Today, I painted with blood.
It takes a minute to find the courage to look at Adam. If he didn’t see enough to reject me before, he will now. They always do.
When I meet his gaze, a warm tremor ghosts through my body. His eyes are hooded, his posture constricted and intense. Yet there’s something gentle, familiar, behind the depths of his eyes and in the set of his mouth. I think I could get high on that look alone.
He releases Raife but doesn’t take his eyes off me. With each slow step he takes toward me, I’m left a little more breathless. When he reaches me and leans down, his arm curling around my waist, I shiver. His lips touch my ear, and his warm breath skates over my throat. “You look stunning when you’re not hiding.”
My eyelids flutter shut, and I whisper, “I don’t want to hide. Not from you.”
“So don’t.” When he nips below my jaw, my toes curl. “Show me everything.”