Page 47 of A Kiss From Death (Oath of Vengeance #1)

She nods happily with my statement. “I was able to close your wound with my magic. It should fully heal over the next few days. I had to use almost my entire reserve to close it up, so please rest and don’t push yourself.

My magic is strong, so you should be back to full strength by the next trial, but you will be left with a slight scar down your side.

The antidote appears to be working so far, but I would still like Trina to check on you daily to make sure you don’t regress.

” She leans forward, giving my hand a soft squeeze.

“You’re one tough cookie. I wasn’t sure if you would come out the other end, but Hade here never doubted you. ”

“Thank you,” I say softly, giving her a grateful smile. “I’m forever indebted to you two. Name the favor, and it’s yours. ”

She gives me a genuine smile in return, one between two people who have known each other their whole lives. “Live a long, happy life, dear. That is the favor I ask of you.”

She grabs her belongings and walks out of the small washroom, taking the other healer, who I assume is Trina, along with her, leaving Hade and I pressed together in the tub. The water is surprisingly still warm, which makes me think he refilled it to keep it warm for me while I was passed out.

The silence is deafening, and even though I feel like I could sleep for a week straight, I am very aware of how little clothes I currently wear and how close our bodies are pressed together.

I awkwardly wiggle, unsure of what to do now, but all the worry washes away when he gently places his palm on my thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers behind me. “I should have known you’re too stubborn to die.”

“You know me so well, Death Reaper,” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

I look down at my body, noticing the blood smeared across my skin. I look and feel like a mess. “I should probably clean myself up. I’m definitely not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever shared a bath with, that’s for sure. Maybe the most memorable, though,” I say with a laugh.

He grunts from behind me as I go to scoot away, but I wince when pain shoots through my side from the movement.

He reaches out, gripping my shoulder, stopping me. “Let me help you,” he insists. “It’s the least I can do. You should be resting anyways. Healer’s orders.”

I turn to look over my shoulder at him, and hollow eyes stare back at me.

I’ve never seen such unguarded emotion, like his walls have fallen, and he’s not sure how to put them back up.

He gives me pleading eyes, acting as if his life depends on helping me in this moment, and because of that, I give him a small nod.

I can let him have control over something.

His need to provide and regain control over the situation shines like a star, and it makes me want to provide the sky for him to shine for everyone to see.

A light sparks behind his eyes, the fire inside him gaining a flicker of fuel.

Unsure of himself, he slowly grabs a wash rag hanging next to the tub and submerges it under the water.

Bringing it up, he pauses while holding my gaze, waiting for me to tell him to continue.

I give him a soft smile and turn face forward again, giving him full control.

I hear the trickle of water, feel the warm cloth touch my shoulder, and a shiver travels down my spine.

He squeezes the rag, a stream of water cascading down my side, leaving goosebumps all over my skin.

I let out a small hum of pleasure, the warm water soothing me.

A low, satisfied growl escapes his throat, and my heart flutters in my chest.

He meticulously drags the rag across my shoulder, then down my arm, adding a dollop of soap to scrub me clean.

He continues his pursuit across my chest, squeezing the rag again and letting the sudsy water drip down.

The cold air makes my nipples pebble, chafing against the lacy fabric separating me from the cloth.

I let out a soft moan, content on spending the rest of my day being bathed by the gentle brute behind me.

The noise lights a fire in him, his hand becoming more sure of itself, perusing every inch of my body.

He moves the cloth slowly under my lacy strap before pausing.

“Is this okay?” I hum happily, nodding my head before he continues dragging it down until the cloth slightly dips under the thin fabric covering my breast. “And this?”

“Yes,” I sigh.

He makes sure his skin never touches mine, using the cloth as a barrier to wash the sweat and blood away. The rag gently drags across my left nipple, my body pushing back against him without thought. My head tips up on its own accord, bearing my neck to him.

He reaches out with his other hand, gently wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat. Leaning down, he whispers against the shell of my ear in rasp, “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to focus on getting you clean.”

“Sorry,” I whisper, then swallow deeply, feeling his hand twitch around my neck.

He peels his hand from my throat and brings the rag back to my front, dragging it down my stomach, making sure to avoid my wound.

The rag cleans away each swipe of blood across my stomach and then down my thighs.

He avoids getting too close to my center, trying to be a gentleman.

I melt back into his chest, happily letting him take care of me.

He finishes with my front, then grips my shoulder, gently pushing me forward. I’m so lost in my relaxed haze, I don’t register what he’s doing until it’s too late. He collects my hair in his fist, slowly dragging it up and over my shoulder. I go to stop him, but it’s too late.

I try to turn away from him, but he plants his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

I look forward, too embarrassed to face him.

He’s deadly silent, and I can feel his heavy gaze searing my back that I’ve successfully kept hidden until now.

He’s not saying anything, which is setting me more on edge.

Seconds go by until I’m brave enough to swivel my neck and look back at him.

What I see makes my heart lurch in my chest.

He sits frozen, his face ghostly pale. He’s staring at my back in shock, his eyes never blinking. I expected him to be mad or concerned, but not this. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, lost inside his beautiful head, trying to come to terms with whatever has him so shaken.

“Hade?” I say softly, getting his attention.

He blinks, snapping out of whatever world he was lost in, and lets out a low growl that makes little waves vibrate over the water. Now, he looks furious, fire dancing behind his eyes, promising retribution. If only he knew I learned to slay my own demons a long time ago.

“Who fucking did this to you?” he seethes behind me. “I need names.”

I try to shake my head for him to drop it, but he gives me a look full of pain, needing to fix me once again. If only it were that easy to erase the past.

“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago,” I whisper, trying to sound sure of myself.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Everything relating to you is the only thing that matters to me ,” he says with unyielding certainty. “So, I won’t ask you again, Nyxi. Who hurt you?”

I shake my head, but he shoots me a pleading look that pulls at my heartstrings, making me want to spill all my deepest secrets for him to harbor with me.

I sigh, defeated. “The headmaster of the orphanage I was raised in was an older gentleman. If we acted out of line or did something he didn’t like, we would get sent for private lessons with him.

Sometimes, we were sent just because he was having a bad day and needed to let off some steam, but he would never admit that.

We would get sent for lessons if our shoes weren’t tied correctly, or if we didn’t sit straight enough at the dinner table.

The lessons were supposed to teach us how to be better children so our chances of being adopted would go up. ”

My body shakes a little as the nightmares of my past are dragged to the surface for me to face. Hade starts to trace each mark with his finger to soothe me, but for some reason, it feels like he is tracing a different pattern, the feeling abstract and foreign to me.

“He took a particular liking to me, so I was sent for more lessons than the other orphans. He had a thing for fire, something about burning away our sins to cleanse us. The marks on my back are supposed to be a reminder of each of my lessons so I may never forget.”

My chest feels lighter after digging up the pain from the past. The only other person who knew was Theo. He would help me when he could, taking care of me and cleaning my wounds after each lesson. He was the reason I made it out of there alive and with my sanity.

“Are each one of these burns across your back a lesson?” he asks softly, almost choking on his words, and I tentatively nod in answer.

His face grows red, the embodiment of rage. He stops his finger from tracing whatever mysterious pattern across my back, and his voice cracks the smallest amount.

“Nyxi, there are dozens of burn marks across your back.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I avoid looking at my back at all costs, not ready to face the memories. I lost count of each lesson long before they stopped.

“It’s in the past. There is nothing to do to change it now. Life goes on, whether you are ready to ride the wave with it or not. So, I did too,” I plainly say, willing him to understand I can’t change this, all the stuff that came before him.