Riot (Scarred Souls 4)

I didn’t dare move as his fingertips grazed over my lips. With water sluicing down his face, he said, “You smile at me. No one ever smiles at me.”

I took his hand on my lips and brought it to lie over my heart. “You make me want to smile.”

“Why?” At his question, his eyes searched mine deeply for the answer.

“Why do you make me smile?” I clarified. He nodded. I almost cried at the look of desperation on his face. For why he needed the answer. Stepping as close as I possibly could, I said, “Because you never hurt me. When I was forced into your cell. Even when you tried to keep me away, you still kept me close. You took me when I needed you, and you speak to me. Speak to me, like I am not a whore.”

“You are more,” he told me roughly. “My more. 152, my more.”

Tears filled my eyes and I said, “I wish I knew your name.”

901’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I knew yours.”

I smiled again, unable to do anything else with the sudden lightness that had filled my soul. Moving the soap along his chest and down to his stomach, I said, “Let me clean you. Let me erase today.”

“Only if I then do it to you,” he said. A flash of pain crossed over his face. His attention dropped to my thighs, and I saw anger stealing the brief happiness that we had found.

“No,” I said, and he shook his head. “Don’t think of it.”

“He took you,” he said. “I can’t stand that he took you. And hurt you … and has you whenever he wants.” His breathing increased in speed, and I saw his neck tense the more he thought of our reality.

“Stop,” I urged. He inhaled deep and long. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his chest, right over his tattoo.

901 sucked in a quick breath at my touch. Stepping back, I made sure he met my eyes. “When it is me and you alone, there is no Master. When we are here, in your cell, there is no Blood Pit.” A smile tugged on my lips. “There are no matches to the death. There are no quarters where I am held captive all day. There is your heart beating in sync with mine. Speaking the language of our old home, in the company of the male that is becoming my new home.”

“Moy prekrasnyy,” he whispered, and I closed my eyes as the words attached to my soul. My beautiful, he had called me. My beautiful …

His.

Inhaling deeply, I murmured, “Moy voin,” in return.

My warrior.

Any residual anger fell from 901’s face, and I began moving the soap over his skin. He was silent and unmoving as I cleansed him of his fight. But his eyes never left mine. When I had finished, he took the soap from my hands and brushed the wet hair from my face.

“Krasivaya devushka,” he said softly as he ran the soap gently over my arms. I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch. He moved around me, savoring the moment. He stopped only when he reached my thighs. I opened my eyes to see him on his knees, reaching out to run his finger where Master had made me wear his seed.

I placed my palm on the side of his face and guided him to look at my face. “He isn’t here with us,” I reminded. 901 nodded. He remained on his knees, and I wondered what he was about to do. My heart swelled when he moved his head forward and tentatively pressed a kiss on my hip. When he pulled back, he pressed his hand to his mouth.

Then I understood. I thought of his hand holding mine as Master kissed me in front of 901’s cell. And I remembered his face as he watched Master’s mouth attached to mine, taking what wasn’t freely given. There was devastation in his stare, the usual glare of anger in his eyes … but there had been something else there too, something I hadn’t recognized—envy, curiosity … want.

“You’ve never been kissed before,” I realized. I already knew why. 901’s head fell forward in embarrassment. I made sure he lifted his head once again with my hand below his chin.

I saw something new in 901’s eyes as he looked up at me from his knees: shyness.

It was by far the most beautiful he had ever looked to me.

Stepping back, I held out my hand. 901 got to his feet. He hesitated as he looked at my hand. I stayed strong and never pulled it back. Finally, after several long seconds, he slid his hand in mine. Reaching behind him, I turned the handle on the shower and switched off the water.

I led him to a small pile of worn, faded towels. Releasing his hand, I picked up two. Handing him one, 901 quickly dried off the water. I did the same. I ran it over my wet hair, separating the thick strands with my fingers. When I dropped the towel, so did 901.

I took his hand again and led him to the bed. I sat down first, 901 following quickly after. Our hands remained clasped on the mattress between us, until I lay down. 901 did the same. I faced him.

Now that he was clean, the stitches keeping his wounds together were more prominent on his skin. A stab pierced my stomach as I looked at the large one across his chest and the new slash across his face. For some reason the scarred male from my dreams flashed across my mind. I always thought that I was imagining him. But something about how 901 was watching me, was here for me, open and raw, made me confide, “I see a male in my head sometimes.” My eyebrows pulled down as I tried to hold on to the image of his face. “I don’t know who he is, but I think he is from my past.” I covered my heart with my hand and said, “In here, I feel he was someone special to me. But I don’t … I can’t remember who he is.”

Swallowing, I asked, “Do you ever have memories like that? You are a champion, have been for a long time. Maya tells me that with the lesser dose of drugs we get, my memories will start returning, but they haven’t yet.”

“Maya?” 901 questioned.

I realized my mistake, but trusted 901 enough to reveal, “My chiri. Her name is Maya.”

His eyes widened. “You talk to her, you use her name?”

I nodded my head. “She is more than just a number.” I breathed deep and said, “The male from my dreams told me that I am more than just a number.”

“We are,” 901 said, and I heard the hard edge to his statement. “We are,” he said again. “I had never thought about anything until recently. You are right, I have not been on the heavy drugs for years, but I never changed from what I was.” He took a fallen strand of my hair between his fingers. “I never thought about anything but winning in the pit. And the male that would one day finally kill me. The one that would take the championship from me and free me from this hell. From being under Master’s control.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he began, and then paused. He stayed quiet, then a red blush coated his cheeks. “Now I think about a lot of things. Why are we here? How I now want to be free.” He sighed and brought my hair to his nose. He inhaled, dropped it, then added, “And you. I think about you. I didn’t want to. But I do, and now I don’t fight it.”

“Why?” I whispered.

This time, he placed his hand over his heart and said, “You have made me feel, in here. You have made me want things I never dare let myself want. You have made me want to fight for survival, not pride. I no longer want to die on the pit’s sand, like a warrior. I no longer want to die at all.” I held my breath, exhaling only when he said, “You make me want to live.”

I shifted closer, and closer still, until my face hovered only a fraction from his. 901’s eyes immediately focused on my lips. “Krasivaya?” he questioned, using the word “beautiful” instead of my number.

I smoothed the damp hair from his head. “You have never been kissed. And while I have been kissed many times, probably by many different men, I have never given a kiss freely. Although I remember none but those Master stole from my mouth.” 901 rolled onto his back. His skin was still slightly damp from the shower. “It may seem like I am different from you in that regard, but I am not.”

“I know,” 901 agreed, and waited for what I would do next.

My heart raced as I licked my lips, and then without giving myself a chance to overthink what I was about to do, I lowered my mouth until my lips pressed against his.

901 tensed beneath me. I froze, thinking I had pushed too far, but when his hand slid into my hair and he pulled me even closer, I knew this was what he wanted, too. Our lips were slow moving and shy, but as the seconds passed, 901 deepened the kiss. And it was unlike anything I had felt before. Where Master was hard and cruel, 901 was gentle and caring. He was a contradiction: soft and kind, but possessive and certainly took what he wanted.