Page 55 of Thorns of Blood

I screamed and screamed and screamed.

Until my throat was raw.

Until my ears rang.

Until a set of large, warm hands pulled me into a hard chest, murmuring words I couldn’t understand.

Then suddenly, my feet left the ground, and I was scooped up into warm arms, nestled close to a steady heartbeat.

Giovanni carried me back toward the stateroom, my mind still reeling from the heightened emotions. What was happening to me? Was I having a panic attack?

This wasn’t who I was.

“Shh. You can let it go.” I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed at being seen like this. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

His whispered words tempted me to let go. I wanted to be better. And most of all, I wanted to be normal.

He kept walking until we were in his bedroom, not stopping until we were in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror.

Me, entirely disheveled and frail-looking, white wedding dress crumpled like my state of mind.

Him, on the other hand, looked completely sane, suited up and put-together.

He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, then reached over to the bath products that he’d ordered for me before pouring one of the wildflower-scented ones.

“Clothes off or on?” he asked, his gaze seeking out mine in the mirror.

My answer was a raw whisper. “On.”

Without further ado, Giovanni gently sat me in the bathtub, warm water soaking through the new dress. He straightened up, took his shoes and socks off, then shocked me by sliding into the tub behind me.

We must have looked ridiculous, both of us clothed, soaked, and submerged in the water. Silence stretched, the steady running water coming out of the faucet the only sound vibrating against the tiles.

“What happened?”

His quiet question vibrated against my back while I stared at the pristine tile design in front of me. Could I find the courage to open the door that had been closed for so long, it’d all but been sealed shut? Opening it meant being vulnerable and trusting, which I wasn’t sure I could do.

“Did marrying me set something off?” His words were spoken low but clear, and empathy I thought I’d long ago lost flared up. Despite the kidnapping and forced nuptials, I didn’t want him to blame himself.

“Seeing daffodils and origami… the trouble you would’ve gone through to obtain them… it triggered something,” I whispered haltingly.

“You didn’t like it?”

I considered the best way to answer him without giving away too much. I wasn’t ready to face my fears.

“I did,” I admitted.

Another stretch of silence followed.

He started combing his fingers through my hair, wetting it, then reached for the shampoo. “Is it okay if I wash your hair?”

It seemed silly to deny him, considering we were both in the tub, but at the same time, the intimacy of the action… I didn’t know if I could handle it.

But for the first time in my life, something shifted. I wanted to learn—to finally face the demons I’d spent so long running from.

I wanted to let go.

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