Days? Weeks? Months? Probably not months. But it seemed like forever.
I closed my eyes, trying to think of my life before all this happened. It was weird, but I couldn’t remember much. All I saw was him. Granite. Everywhere. Even when reaching for the most distant memory, all I saw was him. His face. All I felt was him, his touch, his kiss. It was like he had always been there. As if he had always been the center point in my life. The harder I tried not to think of him, the more he ended up possessing every corner of my mind. Even Neon’s friendly face and blue hair started to retreat to the background, making way for the president of the American Street Kings.
A ruthless leader.
A merciless ruler.
A cruel king.
I was in love with a man without a heart. I had given my body and my soul to a man who was incapable of feeling anything. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so reckless with my heart by giving it to a man who cherished nothing? Not even life.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I’d been crying so much I hardly noticed the wet droplets of sorrow anymore.
I slipped down, pulling my head under the water. For those few seconds, I was numb, water rushing into my ears muffling out the sound of my breathing. Everything felt so far, like the water had the power to distance me from the world. But it didn’t take away the image of his face, and it didn’t numb the way my heart ached for him. Problem was, my heart ached for Neon too. When I was stuck in that nightmare, taking Neon’s place on the hooks, I was terrified. I had never been so scared in my life. I could only imagine what it had been like for her as reality. For her, it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real.
Unable to stomach the thought, I pushed myself up and out of the water, wiping my hair back as I dried my face with my palms. When I opened my eyes, I knew he was there.
“You’re back,” I murmured without looking at him.
He didn’t say anything. Like earlier, he was just there, his presence taking up every last space in the room.
I brushed my cheek against my shoulder, closing my eyes again. “Will you say something this time?”
Silence.
I let out a breath, trying to relieve a little of the ache that throbbed inside my chest. For a moment, I concentrated on him, his presence, trying to bathe myself in it. Maybe even lose myself in it. All this time, I was nothing but a fool trying to convince myself that I hated him, but the truth was…I hated the thought of never being with him again more.
I heard his footsteps. Slow. Loud. Coming closer. I didn’t dare open my eyes. I was afraid he’d disappear again, and I didn’t want him to leave. I hated that I didn’t want him to leave.
With my cheek still against my shoulder, legs pressed against my chest, I remained still. “Please say something.”
Silence…and then…
“I’m sorry…ballerina girl.”
Sobs erupted out of nowhere. The sound of his voice was so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my wet skin, and it hurt. It hurt so much, it was like the pain tried to break free from my bones.
“I’m so sorry.”
Water slowly trickled over my shoulder and down my spine. Soft, gentle, as if he was trying to soothe me. Comfort me. Silently washing away my pain.
I opened my eyes, my sight blurry with sorrow. But when I looked into his eyes, those beautiful green irises with amber specks of strength, I realized how truly lost I was. I was lost within the world of a man who possessed me mind, body, and soul. A cruel man. A ruthless man. A man who led the way to my ruin. Yet here I was, fully aware that no matter how much I wanted to hate him, I didn’t. Resisting him was only temporary—it had always been only temporary.
After a few deep breaths, I started weeping again. The moment was too powerful for me to even try to stay strong. I couldn’t. Not with him so close, crouched beside the tub and staring right at me. Dark, disheveled curls had been tied in a messy bun. His beard was still as unruly as ever, menace oozing out of every pore even while we found ourselves in such a vulnerable moment. But instead of fearing him like I knew I should, I wanted him. I wanted him to take away the pain, the uncertainty…just like I wanted him to save me in my nightmare.
“Granite,” I whispered, “it hurts.” I sniffed. “Make it stop…please.”
More tears poured like a river of agony, but he didn’t say a word. All he did was drip a handful of water down my back, over and over again, like he was trying to wash away every bad thing that had ever happened to me.
I leaned to the side, reaching for his arm, pulling it closer as I nestled my face into the crook of his elbow, crying. The familiar smell of cedarwood mixed with nicotine was comforting, yet it woke a new kind of ache inside me. And when his fingertips gently traveled down my spine on his way to scoop more water into his palm, my body shivered. His touch took me back to the night when I surrendered, finally embracing the darkness of what I felt for him. I couldn’t say it was light, because it wasn’t. Whatever it was between us, it was dark, dirty, raw…and unstoppable. Not even death could stop it.
His other hand wrapped around my arm as he pulled me closer, allowing me to cry into his shoulder. My tears stained his cut with my pain. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Enough had been said. Enough had been done. I simply wanted to be free of all the emotions I was slowly drowning in.
Silently, he kept pouring water down my back, over my shoulders, while his other hand caressed me. The longer I felt his touch, being so close to him, the more I wanted him to take it all away, even if only for a short while.
I lifted my head, my cheek brushing against his beard as I exhaled against the skin of his neck. A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and his fingers dug into the flesh of my arm, pulling me closer, the edge of the tub pressing against my chest like a barrier keeping us apart.
“Make it go away,” I whispered, and he cursed under his breath. “Make it all go away, Granite.”