Illusion(69)

Rubbing my forehead with my palm, I rested my pounding head against my hand. “So she’ll hate me for begging you to change her. And then she’ll hate you for doing it.”

He crouched down beside of me, his blue eyes softening. “Do not be sorry and you cannot worry about the what if’s now. You loved your friend and wanted to save her. I understand. We will deal with the consequences of this together.”

Stefan stood, offering me his outstretched hand. “Come with me, vackra. I started the shower for us,”

“Should I stay with her?” I asked. I wanted to go with him, but I was hesitant to leave her unattended.

“Josephine, she is fine. We still have a plane to catch. We just have an extra passenger now.” Stefan uttered softly. “Shower with me.”

Letting go of Anna’s hand, I reached for his. I followed him into the bathroom and watched him as he tore his bloody, ruined clothing from his body. When he was finished, he faced me and his blue eyes bored into mine.

“I want to see you,” Stefan murmured. He stepped closer and took my arms in his hand, inspecting the angry, red marks that still encircled my wrists. His eyes closed for a moment and he inhaled a shaky, unnecessary breath as his fingers gingerly traced the welts on my skin.

His beautiful blue eyes reopened and he swallowed unevenly. As if he was convincing himself to continue, he licked his lips and nodded, his hand releasing my wrists. He raised his hand to brush his thumb over the bruise that was forming on my cheekbone, his fingers trailing down the side of my face.

“Stefan, sweetheart. It’s over.” I cupped my hand against his stubbled cheek. “You can’t kill him again.”

He swallowed again and pressed his face against my hand. He said nothing, his blue eyes unblinking.

“Stefan? You have to talk to me,” I said softly. His mind was still closed to me and his silence, both mental and verbal, was unnerving.

He shook his head and his jaw clenched. He stood taller and simply stared down into my eyes, his expression one I’d never seen before. He looked ancient and flinty, the lines of his face severe.

“If you won’t let me see what you’re thinking you have to tell me.”

The corner of his lip flinched. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and filled with bitterness. “You saw what and who I am today. I want him to meet a thousand deaths for what he did to you. I longed to torture him for days, punishing him for touching you. Is that what you wished to hear me say?

“What you did today isn’t you. It’s only part of who you are,” I retorted softly. “Will holding on to this change what he did, Stefan?”

“No.” He chuckled and his eyes traced along my discolored cheekbone. “However, it would satisfy the selfish part of me that wants vengeance.”

My hand lowered from his face to rest against his silent chest, placing my hand over where his heart would be beating if he was still alive. “You have to let this go, Stefan. Let this go for you, for me. For us. He’s dead and you saved me.”

“You watched as I savagely killed a creature in front of you. I tell you how I wanted him to suffer more and it is you that soothes me. You have to see the absurdity in this,” Stefan marveled. He gathered my shirt and ripped it up the middle, dropping the scraps of material to the bathroom floor. He made short work of removing my jeans, tossing them to join the growing pile of destroyed clothing.

He lifted me into the shower with him and the spray of the hot water ran over us, the water dripping red trails down his chest as it ran over his tangled, bloody hair.

“Sit down. Let me wash your hair.” I pointed to the seat in the corner. I could wash away the blood and the gore, yet I ached to have to power to wash away his all-consuming anger and need for revenge.

He obeyed and sat on the small bench, his large frame filling the entire corner of the shower. He closed his eyes as I lathered his hair with shampoo, a purring sound grumbling in his chest as my nails scratched over his scalp. Grabbing the handheld attachment, I rinsed his hair and watched as the pink suds disappeared, revealing his shiny blond hair. Reaching for the bar of soap, I washed him, my slick, bubbly hands running over every curve and muscle of his body. When I finished, I lowered my lips to his soft mouth. My hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. My tongue slipped between his lips, seeking out his. When they met, he moaned into my mouth, his fingers running through my hair.

He pulled me onto his lap, our embrace never breaking. I only raised my lips from his for a moment to catch my breath and he buried his head between my breasts, leaving me to wrap my arms around him and hold him as he breathed deeply against my wet skin.