Page 18 of Tortured Souls
“Get in the shower, Sky.” His tone is commanding, and I don’t know why, but I listen. I enter the bathroom and open my glass shower door. Turning on the water, I make sure it’s set to a soothing, hot temperature.
“Undress.” I open my mouth to protest, but he lifts his hand in the air, stopping me from refusing his order.
“Undress, Sky.” I turn around, giving him my back before I lift my shirt from my body. Dropping the fabric to the floor, I make quick work of my pants and socks. I freeze, naked in front of the man that just killed my rapist, except for my bra and the thin layer of lace covering my most intimate parts.
“Will you let me clean you off, tesoro?” Saxon’s warm breath fans across the nape of my neck. He’s right behind me, and I hadn’t even heard him move closer.
“Why do you want to help me, and why do you call me that?” I ask, my voice small, the pounding of the water against the tile floor the only other sound in the room.
“Call you what?” His lips graze my earlobe, and instantly, goosebumps rise, forming across my almost naked body.
“That name. Tesoro?” I ask again.
“It’s what my mother used to call me when she was alive.” Fingers gently graze my hips. Saxon slowly traces his fingers over my hips and waist, stopping at the clasp to my bra.
“What does it mean?” My voice trembles at his touch. I should stop this. My body shouldn’t react to this man so quickly. I hated him just moments ago, and now I’m letting him undress me. I want to scream at myself, berate the touch-deprived woman, put an end to thisthingbetween Saxon and me. He doesn’t trust me because of who I am, and I shouldn’t trust him. We were raised to not trust the rival. So why am I letting him unclasp my bra? Letting him guide the straps down my shoulders, feed my arms through them, and let it fall to the ground? My breathing picks up the slightest bit, the steam from the shower warm against my breasts.
“It means treasure. That’s what she used to tell me I was to her. Her treasure.”
“So why do you call me that?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you that.” His hands find the corners of my thong, his body lowering behind me as he draws the last piece of my clothing down my legs and off my body. I’m completely exposed to him. I should want to run and hide, cover myself from this man. But I don’t.
“Now, get in the shower,” he whispers in my ear. I do. Stepping through the open glass door, I let the water cascade down my body, saturating every inch of me. I hear a bottle crack open and turn to see Saxon has my shampoo bottle in his hand, the glass door still open as he stands at the entrance.
“Turn around for me.” I turn, and Saxon starts working the shampoo into a lather across my scalp, his strong fingers massaging through my hair. I let out a small moan, the sensation so delicious I never want him to stop. I’ve never been to a spa, but I can imagine this is close to the pleasure you’d find at one.
“Okay, now rinse.” I obey every order he gives me. From the conditioner to the body wash. While he let me wash my private areas myself, he didn’t let me wash any other part of my body. Gliding the loofa all over my body and only stopping to hand it off, sparked a tingling sensation deep in my core.
Now, I know my body was reacting to his touch simply because I haven’t been with anyone since arriving in this town. However, I’m seriously embarrassed by the number of moans I let slip. Hopefully, he didn’t hear any of them.
SAXON
My dick is so painfully hard that I need to do something about it and fast. I won’t though. Not now. Not after tonight and learning more about Sky and her fucked-up, twisted past with the Hellstorms. Damien should have died slower; I wish I hadn’t reacted so quickly. He deserved worse. Especially seeing how much that piece of filth affected her just by being in the same room.
I hadn’t expected Sky to react the way she did. I honestly don’t know what I was expecting, but her reaction was not it. Cold, blank, frozen in time, numb to the chaos around her—that’s what screamed behind her beautiful eyes. After her brief outburst of rage, she went blank. A beautiful, blank canvas sitting frighteningly still. Her basically having no reaction following me brutally beating a man to death is not normal. That’s why I need to make sure she’s okay. That’s why I’m here now, cleaning off the filth of tonight and getting her to bed before I go and dispose of the garbage.
I finish washing her and hit the nozzle for the shower, turning it off. I grab a towel that’s hanging on the rack and wrap it around her thin frame. I grab another towel as she steps out and get to work on drying her hair. All the while, Sky is watching my movements through her bathroom mirror.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“Because I need to make sure you’re okay,” I say honestly.
“Don’t pity me, Saxon. I don’t need that from you.” Her eyes drop to the floor. “I don’t need to be treated like I’m broken. I can handle myself. Plus, I thought you couldn’t trust me, being the enemy and all?” I spin her around so she’s facing me. My hands rest on her bare shoulders as I lean my face down towards her.
“I never said you couldn’t handle yourself, and trust me, I’m trying really hard to remind myself you’re Sergio’s daughter—but it’s getting rather difficult.” I press my lips against her forehead and leave the bathroom to go fetch her pajamas. Reaching her dresser, I grab her favorite set. Shorts and a tank top that are riddled with avocados. The pattern is hideous, but the style and fit make up for it.
“How do you know where my pajamas are?” I give her a smirk, tossing the pajamas on the bed before I grab a pair of her cheeky underwear she got last week at the mall.
“I told you, baby, I know a lot about you.” My response is vague, but I can’t tell her just yet that I have cameras all around her private space.
“Uh-huh,” is all she says. I step around her bed and stand by her door as she gets herself dressed. I pick up her discarded towels and hang them back up in the bathroom. When I come back to her room, she is already underneath her comforter. I step up beside her and sit on the edge of the bed, close to her face.
“Now what? Are you going to read me a nighttime story too?” I laugh at her sarcasm. Her feisty attitude is one of the many things that draws me to her.
“Not unless you like horror stories,” I say to her, brushing my thumb across her cheek. I lean down and kiss her forehead one more time before standing and making my way to her door.
“Saxon,” she calls after me. I turn and look at her. She’s sitting up now, her face so painfully beautiful I wonder how anyone on this earth could do anything to ever hurt her. Enemy or not, no one deserves to be treated like an object, a toy for others to play with and eventually break.