To ruin an Omega

Chapter 82: Under Running Water 3

CIAN

I stood behind Fia. My eyes traced the line of her spine through the ruined dress. Blood had dried in dark streaks across the fabric. Across her skin beneath.

My fingers reached for the zipper.

She went rigid.

Every muscle in her body locked up like I had touched her with a live wire. I could see the tension in her shoulders. Could see the way she held herself too still.

“Relax,” I said.

The word came out quieter than I intended.

She tried. I watched her shoulders shift slightly. But the tension remained. She could not shake it off.

I pulled the zipper down slowly. The teeth separated one by one. The fabric parted to reveal pale skin marked with bruises and dried blood. My knuckles brushed against her spine.

Her skin was soft.

Too soft.

A shiver ran through her. I felt it under my fingertips. Felt the way her body reacted to the simple touch.

I dropped my hand and stepped back.

Put distance between us before I did something stupid.

“There,” I said.

My voice sounded rough. Like I had swallowed gravel.

I stripped off my own clothes without looking at her. Shirt. Pants. Everything went onto the floor in a heap. I kept my boxers on. That was the only concession to decency I was willing to make right now.

The sound of fabric hitting tile reached my ears.

I kept my eyes forward. Stared at the shower controls like they held the secrets of the universe. Did not let myself turn around. Did not let myself look at her.

Footsteps crossed the bathroom.

The shower door opened.

Closed.

I waited. Counted to ten. Then twenty. Gave her enough time to settle before I had to follow her in there.

This was a bad idea.

Every instinct I had screamed that this was a terrible idea. That getting naked and stepping into a confined space with Fia was going to end badly for both of us.

But she needed help.

She was hurt. Exhausted. Barely able to stand on her own. And I had put her in that position. Had let her stay so close to danger because I had been too focused on finding traitors to see the one standing right in front of me.

I owed her this much.

I pulled off my boxers and tossed them aside. Then I opened the shower door and stepped inside.

The space was large but it felt small with both of us in it.

Fia stood with her back to me. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Her head was bowed slightly. Like she was trying to make herself smaller.

I reached past her and turned on the water.

Warm. Not hot. Just enough to wash away the blood without scalding her bruised skin.

“Tilt your head back,” I said.

She obeyed.

Water hit her hair first. Ran down in pink rivulets that spiraled toward the drain. I grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into my palm. Then I stepped closer.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to smell the blood and sweat clinging to her.

My hands moved to her hair. Fingers worked through the tangled strands. Scrubbing. Massaging. Getting rid of every trace of blood.

The soap foamed white against the dark mess. Bubbles slid down the sides of her face and dripped off her chin. I watched them fall. Watched the water turn clearer as the blood washed away.

She was so still.

So quiet.

Like she was holding her breath.

“Turn around,” I said.

She turned.

Her eyes stayed closed. Lashes dark against her pale cheeks. Bruises stood out stark against her skin. Purple and blue and angry red.

My chest tightened.

I had done this. Not directly. But I had put her in the position where this could happen.

I made a soft sound without meaning to.

A quiet laugh.

Because this situation was absurd. Because I was standing naked in a shower with my figurehead bride, washing blood off her face like it was the most normal thing in the world. Because my wolf was howling at me to touch her more. To pull her closer. To forget about the blood, what was at stake, reality and everything else.

I bit it back and focused on the task.

Soap. Water. Rinse. Repeat.

That was the only mantra I needed currently.

My hands moved to her face. Gentle around the bruises. Careful not to press too hard. The water followed. Washing away the soap and blood until her skin was clean again.

Then her arms.

I took her wrist in my hand. Her pulse jumped under my fingers. Fast. Too fast.

Was she afraid?

Or was it something else?

I scrubbed at her forearms. Her wrists. Each finger individually. The blood flaked away under my touch and revealed clean skin beneath.

Then her eyes opened.

I felt it before I saw it. I felt the weight of her gaze on me.

I looked up. Our eyes met and everything stopped.

The water kept running but I could not hear it anymore. I could not hear anything except the blood rushing in my ears. I could not feel anything except the heat building in my chest.

She was looking at me.

Really looking.

Not the careful glances she usually gave me. Not the wary once overs. This was different. It was open wide as she was unguarded.

Like she was seeing me for the first time.

My wolf surged forward.

There was want present . No. That would be lying. This was need. I wanted to take her. I wanted to claim her. I needed to make her… Mine.

The thoughts slammed into me with enough force to steal my breath.

Her cheeks flushed.

Pink spread across her skin like watercolor bleeding through paper.

She looked away quickly.

Too quickly.

I forced myself to breathe.

“Turn around,” I managed to whisper.

Yet, my voice came out rougher than before. Like something had scraped it raw.

She turned.

I grabbed more soap and worked it over her back. My palms slid across her shoulders. Down her spine. Then up to her clavicle. Over the space between where Bo’s shard had broken skin.

The wound was already healing. Shallow enough that it would be gone in a day or two. But the sight of it made something dark twist in my gut.

Bo had hurt her.

The bitch had stood there and smiled while she hurt Fia.

And I had killed her for it.

I would kill her again if I could.

“Did you retrieve Bo’s phone?”

Fia’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I paused. Water ran over my hands. Over her skin.

“No.”

The word tasted bitter.

“I was busy with you.”

True. But it was also an excuse. I should have thought about the phone. Should have made sure it was secured before I carried Fia out of there.

But… She was all that was on my mind. The fear I had felt had been full and as real as breathing.

Why?

I shook the thought off. I needed to focus on what was at hand. Her question. I could feel something else brewing at the back of her mind. And while I couldn’t read her thoughts, I could surmise she wanted to ask another question.

So I chipped in quickly; “It will be kept though… I am sure even if my uncle has more spies and double agents, they would be walking on eggshells at the moment.”

Fia turned to face me.

“But they could delete stuff off the phone.”

Water dripped down her face. Down her neck. Over her collarbone.

I dragged my eyes back to hers despite knowing it was a big mistake. But a part of me just wanted to look. There was no harm in looking.

“I have a competent team of technicians. Nothing would be hidden enough.”

She did not look convinced.

“Now just stay still and let me wash you.”

I raised the shower head and aimed it at her face.

Water hit her full on. She sputtered and blinked and wiped at her eyes with one hand.

It was because I needed to break the spell. If she didn’t stop looking, I doubt I would have been able to.

Then she pointed at my chest.

“Look. You have blood too.”

I glanced down. A dark streak marked my ribs. Bo’s blood. Or maybe Fia’s. I could not tell which.

“It is not important.” I said.

But her retort was even sharper. “It is.”

She reached for the soap.

My body went taut.

Every muscle locked up as I watched her lather the soap between her palms. White foam covered her hands. Then she pressed them against my chest.

My skin burned where she touched me.

Goosebumps spread across my chest and down my abdomen. My muscles went rigid. I held myself absolutely still because if I moved I was going to do something I could not take back.

Like pull her closer.

Like pin her against the fucking wall.

Like kiss her until neither of us could breathe.

The memory slammed into me.

Madeline.

Standing in a shower just like this one. Washing blood off my chest after a particularly brutal training session. Her hands moving across my skin with the same careful attention.

I had kissed her then.

I had pulled her close and kissed her like my life depended on it.

And she had kissed me back.

But that memory didn’t protrude out of nowhere. It came because… It came because… I wanted to kiss Fia.

I wanted it so badly, my hands shook with the effort of holding back. I wanted to taste her. To feel her pressed against me. To bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until I could not tell where I ended and she began.

But I could not.

I could not do that to her.

I could not pretend this was something it was not.