The Dark Elite (The Dark Elite 1)

Because as beautiful as she is, what attracts me to Grace isn’t so much her body as it is her mind—those passionate emotions, those intense feelings she expresses. Since my own captivity, I’ve trained myself to constantly be in a blank state. Never trusting, never showing more than I feel, never letting anyone know what’s going on inside.

But she’s not afraid to reveal her true self.

Her combination of strength and vulnerability is what first made my heart beat for her, and only her. It’s what made my walls come crashing down. It was the way that she seemed to say…

I know how you feel.

I reach out again, silently asking permission, watching her own walls slowly crumble. Finally, she stumbles toward me, wrapping her arms around me as mine go around her. We’re not even skin-to-skin, but I swear I can feel every inch of her as we stand together under the water.

Her small, fragile form is still tense in my arms. She’s stubborn, holding onto her doubt and suspicion even now.

You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.

My hand shakes as I run it through her hair and down her shoulders, resting it on her back.

“You’re cold,” I murmur into her chilled skin, turning us so that the water hits her back.

I pretend I didn’t hear the rasp in my voice, my own body on high alert. So much contact after years of forcing myself to feel nothing, care for nothing, take nothing—it’s been so long since I’ve let myself be touched in a tender way that I’m not sure how to proceed with her. But I want to.

So I let my hands lead the way. I hesitantly stroke the curve of her back, letting instinct guide me as I caress her soft skin, focusing on the little droplets of water running down her back, connecting in little streams. With that touch, her body finally gives in, melting against mine.

Wrapping my arms tighter around her, I lean in, nose nuzzling the back of her neck. I don’t trust my hands anywhere but where they are, so I keep my caress on her back, feeling the way her breath slows against my chest, savoring the feel of her heart beating against mine.

“I’m scared, Ciro,” she finally says. My lungs constrict at the sound of fear in her voice, wanting nothing but to protect her.

“I know.”

“I’m scared of everything.” Her words are a mere whisper against the base of my throat. “Of how I feel right now. Of how I felt when I thought Brian had saved me…”

When her words die, I hesitate to say anything. I never know what to say—it’s never the right thing, never smooth or suave or actually helpful. But I understand her confliction. More than she knows.

“How did you feel?” I murmur. “When he came for you?”

“I felt like I had…” Her voice catches in her throat. “Betrayed you. Hale. Zaid and Lucas.”

I look at the tattoos across my knuckles, a collection of roman numerals that spell out the day I got them—the same day I was rescued. I know what it’s like to be held captive and then feel hope, only to be betrayed. And I know what it’s like to be rescued by those same people Grace feels like she has betrayed.

Hale.

Zaid.

Lucas.

The tattoos were on my skin before I even took a shower, changed my clothes, ate anything. I wanted them as a reminder to never take advantage of freedom, and moreo

ver, to never trust another person with my feelings.

“I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.” Grace’s words come out in a rush. Her heartbeat accelerates against my chest, and my arms tighten around her. “I can’t look at the person that I’ve become. I can’t face her.”

Fuck.

I hate to even hear those words come out of her mouth. I hate that she thinks any of that shit about herself when she’s one of the strongest people I know—and I know some tough-as-nails motherfuckers.

Water droplets fall from my hair as I shake my head. I know she can’t see it, but it’s a visceral response to her words.

Because they’re so fucking wrong.

“Who you’ve become is a survivor,” I say, staring at the fogged up glass of the shower wall as memories claw through my mind. “You survived, Grace. You survived at the church, you survived us, you survived Brian. You lived. You fought. And that’s the only thing that matters.”