“Frankie,” Anteros said, deciding to close the distance himself. “Shower on,” Anteros said with authority, eyes still on her. A mist of warm water fell. The mist turned into a sprinkle, which then became a steady stream. She blinked up at him, droplets sticking to her eyelashes like dew on grass.
God, she was beautiful under the water, her honey skin glistening. The water made her hair stick to her face and he pushed it behind her ear.
“You’re goddamn gorgeous,” Anteros growled, crushing his lips against hers. He pushed Frankie against the wall, hands splayed at her sides, feeling the ridges of the tile. Next, he ran his fingers over her wet ass as water slipped off it like a waterfall. Round, shiny, he gripped it, hard.
He turned her jaw so he could see her face, kiss her neck, kiss her jaw. His fingers dipped lower and spread her wide. Her hands splayed up and down his arms, going around his neck and then to his back, as if frenzied in their passion.
Frankie let out a groan that transformed into a mewling, whimpering sound as Anteros slid his rigid length up and down against her, moving with the intimate folds of her. Gripping his shoulders tight, her nails dug deep, as if she could force some part of him inside her. And fuck, he really wanted to be inside of her. Wanted every part of her marked by him so that there was no doubt who she belonged to.
Using his hands, Anteros spread her ass wide, and her leg wrapped around his. He slid his cock harder against her, pressing against her nub. She groaned and gripped him tighter. Anteros could tell Frankie was ready by the way she moaned and held him. He could take her and have her writhing in ecstasy, but there was something that was pressing on him, something that had been pressing on him since the day he’d cooked and fed her dinner.
He’d tried to push it away, but it was in the back of his mind. He wondered on the days she looked paler, wondered if she was tired not because of staying up late, wondered always.
With a frustrated groan, Anteros let her go. “Can it come back?”
“W-what?” Frankie sounded lost, her breathy stutter heated as if caught in the steam. It drifted over the sound of water splashing against the tile at their feet. She looked up at him, not fully comprehending what he was saying.
He hissed. She must be an angel, or else a succubus, wet and swollen and fucking irresistible. Her chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths, her nipples pointed. She watched him as if under a spell, blue eyes somehow brighter in the mist.
“Your sickness,” he clarified. “Can it come back?” Anteros had been pushing thoughts of her sickness away because it was so fucking pointless. Either way, she was dead, so why even bother. If he kept digging, kept experimenting with the need to know, it would lead to nothing good. Still, it was like an arrow in his side.
She blinked, realizing his meaning. “No. I mean, maybe. Doctors say I’m normal now but I don’t feel normal. I don’t really trust them—the doctors.”
That didn’t really assuage his worries. “Can you die?”
She shook her head. “That was never the problem. Most days, I wished I could die.” She finished on a whisper, as if embarrassed or ashamed. What she’d just revealed did the exact opposite, however—it was a revelation. Finally he understood why when he looked into her crystal depths, a warrior stared back. Anteros stared into her eyes as the water rushed over them, hot and slick.
Something was happening to him. The thing he’d managed to ignore, shove back, and deny since the day she’d told him to take her was becoming undeniable.
She was going to fucking ruin him.
If he wanted to survive, he should turn off the water and get the fuck out.
“I knew it…” She stepped back. “You think I’m fucking broken—”
Anteros wasn’t sure what he grabbed first—her hair, her waist, hips, face, jaw—just that he touched all of her within seconds. In the same moment he captured her lips with her sigh, he entered her.
Anteros broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. “Sei divina il mio cuore.” He pulled out, getting ready to plunge
back in, when he noticed something. His brow furrowed against her, the lines in his forehead growing deeper and deeper with the realization.
“You lied,” he said against her lips, forehead pressed still. She regarded him with a lusty haze over her eyes, not fully understanding. “I assume your hope was that if you told me you were bleeding, I wouldn’t touch you.”
Recognition dawned across her features. “I…” Frankie stuttered, slipping against the stone as Anteros pushed away. They faced each other, water pouring down, her hair falling flat against her face. She closed her mouth, offering no further explanation, and then her features went stone.
Whatever had passed between them was buried.
Anteros walked out of the shower, not bothering to turn it off.
Twenty-Three
I gripped the icy cold steel of the bench, watching Gabby’s blonde mane get farther and farther away until it completely disappeared out of the park. I knew what I was doing had to be done. I knew that.
It didn’t make it any easier.
December was nearing its end and I should have been grateful. The month was almost over and I would be free, but my throat constricted at the thought. Never seeing Beast again, never sleeping in his bed, it was almost unfathomable. Somewhere during the month I’d become tethered, but that’s exactly why it had to happen. Being tethered to a man who saw that rope as nothing more than a thing to jerk was worse than tying it around my neck, it was worse than cutting it completely.
When I’d spoken to Nikolai that night in his room, I’d knocked down the last domino. Whatever they needed from me—anything—I’d do. I just needed to get away from him. Call me the fucking queen, I didn’t care. The longer I stayed with him, the closer to oblivion I got. I could feel it.