Page 117 of Carnal Games

Black marble with a golden hue makes up the entire shower wall with two square-shaped showerheads at the top. Across the sliding glass door of the stall is a vanity with a rectangular mirror and two sinks. Daring not to gaze at my reflection, I lock the door behind me and walk to the matching black toilet.

After finishing my business, I trudge to the sink while avoiding the mirror. I wash my hands first before braving to look at my reflection, wishing I hadn’t.

I’m staring at a stranger.

“Oh god!” I gape at my swollen and purple right eye. There’s a gash on my forehead from when I smashed into the wall. Lifting the shirt with trembling hands, I stare at the blue and yellowish bruising on my flat stomach.

In theory, I know what bruises look like, but the reality is worse and uglier. I can’t believe Kian saw me like this and didn’t cringe away.

I am one ugly mess with a bird’s nest for hair. Shoulders slumping as I feel the energy drain out of me, I clutch the edge of the counter and try not to sob.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

“Are you okay in there?”

Hearing Kian’s anxious tone, a broken sound escapes. It’s hitting me now that I was physically assaulted without anyprovocation. Somebody cruelly kicked and punched me for no reason until I was unconscious.

“Open up,” demands Kian urgently. “I can hear you crying.”

Wiping my nose and cheeks, I unlock the door but keep my head down, letting my hair cover the bruised side of my face.

Kian’s bare feet fill my line of vision. They’re twice the size of mine.

“Is the pain too much?”

I open my mouth, but a hiccup slips instead. “I’m-m sorry. I’m stronger than this, I swear. It’s just, I can’t stop…”

“Hey…it’s okay,” he shushes, tipping my chin up with a finger.

I turn my head to the side, using my hair as a curtain. “Don’t look, please.”

Expecting his touch to vanish, I gasp when I’m carefully lifted into the air. One arm under my knees and the other behind my back, Kian tucks me against his chest. “It’s just temporary scars. They don’t make you any less beautiful.”

I bury my face against the soft material of his shirt and mumble, “You must think I’m vain, worried about my looks.”

“No, I don’t.”

We reach the bed, and he places me in my spot over the blanket. I lean against the headboard, watching him pick up a glass of water and bring it to my lips.

While I drink, silent tears keep falling down my cheeks. Pushing the glass away, I wipe at them and murmur embarrassingly, “I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.”

“You went through something traumatic, lit—” He bites back whatever he was about to say, making me desperate to hear what it is. “It’s okay to let it all out.”

Reaching for my fidgeting hand, he laces it with his, comforting me without words. I hold tightly, loving that he’stouching me willingly, even though it’s not romantically. We sit in a comfortable silence until my tears dry and the sadness has ebbed.

Staring at our joined hands, I observe how his skin tone is a tad darker than mine. My palm is so tiny compared to his as I splay my fingers against his long ones. After the incident, I should be afraid or nervous to be alone around a person twice my size. I’m vulnerable in my skimpy clothes, injured, and my strength is at its lowest.

An easy prey.

But I’m not scared.

Kian feels like my safe haven, where no one can touch or hurt me. My heart and my body trust him implicitly. He has given me no reason to distrust him.

“You think I’m beautiful?” I softly ask, needing to know if he meant it earlier.

I sense his burning eyes boring into mine as he rasps in a throaty and low voice, “If you’re asking me this, then Nathan isn’t telling you often.”

My eyes flash to his metallic ones. The heat in them matches the warmth that makes my body come alive from the inside. One blink, and the fire in his pupils is doused by his signature ice.