Page 70 of The Idol

I stayed awake long after his breathing evened out, keeping vigil like some primitive instinct had kicked in and lodged itself deep in my marrow.

No one was going to hurt him again.

Not Malachi.

Not the congregation.

Not even the nightmares he’d carry from tonight.

My fingers stroked his hair, slow and gentle, scratching his scalp lightly.

Elior, without even meaning to, had altered the chemical makeup of my brain. At least that felt like the only explanation for the unfamiliar feeling welling up inside of me.

I’d felt desire, sure.

Violent, overwhelming desire that demolished my carefully trained restraint anytime Elior so much as looked at me with those big angelic eyes. Desire that made me want to touch, and taste, and claim.

But this…

This was different.

This wasn’t the ravenous craving that had driven me to consume him last night, hands and mouth unbearably hungry for him and his pleasure.

This was something soft.

Warm.

My fingers carded through his hair again, and his whole body relaxed like he’d been waiting for that touch even in sleep. I’d never felt that before—someone trusting me enough to melt under my hand.

Someone who looked at me like I was something good.

No one had ever needed me gently.

They’d needed me competent, strong, or brutal, but neversoft.

I didn’t know how to be soft. Until now. Until him.

My throat tightened as I looked down at him—this boy who could barely breathe without wincing, who’d cried into my chest like he’d forgotten I’d violated him just a day ago, who’d whispered for my comfort like he trusted me to provide it.

Elior didn’t know what he did to me.

He didn’t know how his tears ignited something so damn protective inside me.

He didn’t know how his smile—God, that impossibly pure fucking smile—made me feel like every ugly part of me was being rewritten.

He didn’t know that when he blushed, I wanted to shield him from the entire world and ruin him in the same breath.

I’d never wanted to take care of someone before.

I’d never wanted to be the reason they felt safe.

I’d never wanted to keep someone smiling, keep them warm, keep them happy, keep them fed and healthy, but I wanted that with him.

Every swollen line on his back made me want to coddle him until he forgot the meaning of pain altogether.

Every little sound he made, every soft confession, lit up that terrifying mix inside me of affection, devotion, and possession.

Christ, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.