Page 55 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

INDIGO

I stand in front of the sink as the shower runs behind me and steam starts to fog the edges of the mirror.

I look like a fucking mess. Blood is smeared on my thigh, on my hands, and in my hair. My body is sore. My lips are swollen from his bruising kisses. My eyes are red-rimmed from crying.

But I'm not crying because of what Anatoly did to me.

I'm crying because of what he did for me.

He killed the man who hurt me in the past. He killed the man who destroyed my family. Everything he did, he did for me.

And what did I do? I threw it all into his face, told him he was no better than Grant Bennet, and told him that I hate him when the truth is, I don't hate him.

I love him. I really do love him.

And I used him. Yes, I used him. I made him fuck me so hard and rough just now.

He didn't want to. I can feel that with how he continued to hold himself back even as I was pressed against the wall.

But I needed him to. So, I pushed and pushed and pushed until he finally did.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop another sob from escaping. He would've offered me gentleness if I asked.

But I demanded his violence instead.

I wanted him to punish me because I feel like I deserve it. For getting my parents killed. For bringing all this mess into everyone's lives. For the baby growing inside me that I haven't told him about.

I want to step out and apologize to Anatoly. I want to tell him that I understand why he'd do what he did. Tell him that I know he did all of it for me because he cares about me.

But guilt is holding me here in this bathroom. Guilt is keeping me standing at this sink instead of stepping into the shower to wash off Grant Bennet's blood.

I take another deep shuddering breath. Another sob escapes. And I look at my reflection. The dark red blood has stained my hair, and in that moment, it's like I'm looking at myself again.

Not Indigo. But Amelia. Red hair and all.

"Why?" she asks me.

And I don't know how to answer.

Why did I push him away when he did exactly what I've fantasized about for two years? Why did I tell him I hated him when I love him more than I've loved anyone?

Amelia looks at me, waiting for an explanation that Indigo can't give.

Maybe I pushed Anatoly away because this time, I wanted to know that I could have the choice. That I might want to be the one to decide when and how Grant Bennet would pay for his sins.

That I wanted to be selfish in my vengeance.

And when Anatoly took action, I got mad that he deprived me the opportunity of seeing the light of life be extinguished in Grant Bennet's eyes.

"You're lying," Amelia says. "You were scared of what comes next. You're afraid that once the monster who hurt you is gone, you'll have to figure out who you are without that pain."

I bow my head. Yes, that's true. But there's something else as well.

Valentina's threat.

But that's also a lie. Anatoly would never allow Valentina to hurt me. He would never allow her to hurt our baby.

And that's when I hear it. A small soft knock followed by Anatoly's voice that's just barely audible above the sound of the running shower.

"Indigo... I'm sorry."

I look at the door. Slowly, my feet start to move, almost as if on their own volition. I take one step and then another, and then another. My hand reaches out and slowly opens up the door.

I see him on his knees, head bowed, and I feel myself being overwhelmed by my guilt and emotions. His bloody knuckles rest on his thighs. His shoulders are slumped in defeat.

This powerful man who kills without hesitation kneels before me.

Broken.

By me.

I reach down and tilt his chin up until he's looking at me. His blue eyes find mine and I recognize the same sadness and regret that mirrors my own.

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, his voice cracking. "I should have—"

I press a single finger to his lips. I shake my head and don't say anything. Because I can't make any words right now without crying, and if I start crying, then he'll want to comfort me.

And if he tries to comfort me, it'll just remind me of how much I forced him just now to hurt me.

I can't do that.

So, I reach down, take his hand in mine, turn around, and lead him into the shower until we're both encased under the hot stinging spray.

I lean into Anatoly's chest as he pulls me closer to his body. Warmth blossoms between us, and I feel his fingers combing through my hair. I keep my eyes downcast.

Crimson ribbons start seeping into the water swirling around our feet.

I take a deep shuddering breath. This is everything that I've wanted. Truly wanted. And yet the moment I had it, I tried so desperately to push it away.

I kiss his chest, and feel him shiver in response. His large hands cover my body, and slowly but gently scrub away the blood that's beginning to dry.

Crimson gives way to pink. Pink fades away until the water runs clear.

And Anatoly continues to wash away the final remnants of my past. I continue to kiss his chest. Every kiss gets just a little bit higher until I'm standing on my toes. Then, I finally look up at him and see the hurt in his blue eyes.

"I know you did what you did for me," I whisper. "And I'm sorry that I said those things."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for," he tells me, his voice low and raw.

He pulls me even closer and I gasp at the contact of skin kissing skin.

His body is warm against mine despite the water that cascades down around us.

He traces the line of my jaw with his thumb and asks, "How can I make it up to you? "

I look at him, searching those piercing blue eyes that saw through every layer of protection I built around myself. "Am I your wife?" I ask. "Yours to hold and protect forever?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation. "Always."

"Then make love to me like I’m your wife."