Sweet Collateral

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.”

“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 just 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 at myself for being so helpless and pathetic. I’m angry at the injustice.

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

“Take it away.” I lean in and kiss him. “Please.” He remains motionless, and I take a deep breath 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 can’t do this. The moment of bravery I had has gone, and now I’m just 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.”

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, and I hate that they’ve had a part of me you haven’t.”

“Why?” He pulls back, his eyes locking with mine. “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 fingers trail the length of my arm, over the bandages on my wrist. “Ask me again.”

There’s a beat, a moment as if the world holds its breath with us.