Chapter 335
Jaxx’s Point Of View
We remained like that for several minutes. The house had fallen completely silent, save for the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the sound of her ragged breathing gradually evening out against my shoulder.
Each time she inhaled, her chest pressed against my bare ribs, and I pulled her closer, my chin coming to rest atop her damp towel turban. I could feel her heartbeat slowly returning to normal, though my own still hammered with residual fury. The rage hadn’t left me, it had simply settled deeper, coiling in my chest like a living thing waiting to strike.
Finally, I slid my hands down to her thighs to lift her into my arms. The instant my fingers grazed the side of her leg, she winced, her entire body going rigid. The small sound of pain that escaped her lips cut through me like a blade.
“Damn it,” I muttered, my heart twisting painfully with anger… not at her, never at her, but at what had been done to her. At my failure to protect her from this. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, princess. I’ve got you p>
Elena nodded quickly, burying her face back into my neck and gripping my shoulders as though I were the only thing anchoring her to the earth. Her fingers dug into my skin with desperate intensity, and I welcomed the bite of her nails. I wanted to feel her holding on to me. I needed it. “It’s fine,” she whispered, her voice still trembling. “Just… don’t let me go p>
“Never,” I promised, meaning it with every fiber of my being. The word came out rough, almost broken, because the thought of releasing her… of ever being separated from her again was unbearable.
I secured my arms beneath her, lifting her easily from the velvet cushions. She weighed almost nothing in my arms… too light, I thought with concern, and she kept her face tucked so deeply into my collarbone that I felt every warm breath she exhaled against my skin. The trust in that gesture humbled me.
I stood, my bare feet carefully navigating past the shattered remnants of the front door and the overturned chocolate basket, then started climbing the grand staircase toward her bedroom. With each step, I felt her grip tighten, as if she feared I might disappear. I adjusted my hold, making sure she felt secure, making sure she knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
I walked straight past her unmade bed and into the master bathroom. My only thought now centered on washing every trace of Graham from her body. I wanted his scent, his sweat, his very memory scrubbed completely from her skin until she smelled like nothing but herself again. Until she could feel clean. Until she could begin to forget what his hands had done.
I stepped into the large walk-in shower and set her down gently on her feet beneath the massive chrome faucet. She continued shivering, her hands clutching the wet white towel around her chest. The trembling wasn’t from cold… the bathroom was warm, but from shock, from trauma, from everything she’d endured. I reached down, my fingers catching the tucked edge of the fabric, then paused, looking into her eyes for permission. I wouldn’t take anything from her without consent, not after what she’d just endured. Not ever.
Elena looked up at me through wet eyelashes, her lower lip trembling slightly, and gave a small, slow nod of trust. That simple gesture nearly undid me. She was giving me what Graham had tried to steal, and the weight of that responsibility settled over my shoulders like a mantle.
I stripped the towel from her body, letting it pool around her ankles, then reached up to unwind the lopsided yellow turban from her head. Her damp hair tumbled down her back in dark, messy waves. But the moment the fabric fell away, my eyes locked onto her shoulder and the curve of her hip.
Ugly, dark purple bruises were already blooming against her pale skin. The shape of his fingers was practically stamped into her flesh like a brand. Like he’d marked her as his property. The sight made bile rise in my throat.
I cursed violently in my mind, my teeth grinding together so hard that sharp pain shot up into my temples. I should have killed him, I thought, icy fury roaring back to life for a split second. I shouldn’t have changed my mind. I should have left him face down in that gravel, bleeding out where he belonged. The world would be better for it. Elena would be safer for it.
Elena must have seen the dark expression crossing my face because she immediately lunged forward, clinging to my bare chest, her arms wrapping around my waist as if she could pull the anger right out of me. “Jaxx,” she murmured against my skin, her voice small and pleading, fragile in a way I’d never heard before. “Don’t look like that. Please. I need you here with me, not lost in rage p>
Her words cut through the red haze clouding my vision. She was right. She needed me present, not consumed by thoughts of revenge. There would be time for that later. Right now, she needed comfort, not fury.
“I’m here,” I muttered, forcing my muscles to relax as my hand wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against me. I took a deep breath, centering myself on her presence rather than my fury. On the warmth of her skin against mine. On the fact that she was safe now, in my arms, where she belonged.
I reached out with my free hand and turned the shower handle, switching the water to a perfect, steaming warmth. The mist began filling the glass enclosure instantly, blurring out the rest of the world and cocooning us in our own private sanctuary. I grabbed her favorite liquid soap from the ledge… the one that smelled like lavender and honey, and poured a generous amount into my palm, rubbing my hands together until they were covered in thick, white lather. The familiar scent filled the steam, and I saw her shoulders drop slightly as she recognized it.
I stepped closer to her, still fully dressed in my dark trousers, but I didn’t give a damn about getting soaked. The warm water was already pouring over my hair, flattening it against my forehead and running down my bare back in rivulets as I brought my soapy hands to her shoulders. This was about her, only her. Nothing else mattered.
“You’re getting your pants completely wet, you idiot,” Elena whispered, a tiny, watery chuckle escaping her lips as she looked down at the dark fabric sticking to my legs.
The sound of her laugh, however small, sent relief flooding through my chest. If she could still laugh, even after everything, then she would be okay. We would be okay. “Let them get wet,” I murmured, my voice low and thick as I gently began to lather the soap over her skin. I moved with extreme care around the bruised areas, my palms traveling in slow, light circles across her collarbone, down her arms, and around her waist, washing away every place that bastard had touched. “I don’t care about the pants, Elena. I care about you. Only you p>
She leaned her head against my wet shoulder, releasing a long, ragged sigh as the warm water rinsed the soap away, carrying the afternoon’s horror down the drain. Her body gradually relaxed against mine, the tension slowly leaving her muscles. “It feels good,” she muttered softly, her fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on my ribs, following the familiar patterns she’d memorized long ago. “The water. You p>
The simple intimacy of her touch, the way her fingertips mapped the ink on my skin as if reminding herself I was real, made my throat tighten with emotion. “Good,” I said, leaning down to press a soft kiss into her wet hair, breathing in the scent of lavender mixed with her own unique sweetness. “That’s the goal. Just feel this. Nothing else matters right now p>
I continued washing her with reverent care, my movements slow and deliberate. I wanted her to feel cherished, protected, safe. I wanted to replace every rough touch with gentleness, every moment of fear with security. My hands moved over her skin like a prayer, and I felt her breathing deepen, felt her body begin to trust again.
After I was certain she was clean… after I’d washed every inch of her skin with gentle reverence, I turned off the faucet. The sudden silence in the shower felt heavy, filled only with the sound of dripping water and our synchronized breathing. I grabbed a fresh, dry towel from the rack, wrapped it carefully around her, and scooped her back into my arms to carry her into the bedroom. She didn’t protest, simply rested her head against my shoulder with exhausted trust, her eyes already half-closed.
I set her on the edge of the mattress, carefully drying her off with gentle pats rather than rough strokes, mindful of every bruise. Each mark on her skin was a reminder of my failure, but I pushed that thought aside. Self-recrimination could wait. She needed me focused. Then I walked to her closet to find something comfortable.
I pulled out an oversized black cotton t-shirt… one of mine that she’d stolen weeks ago and that still smelled faintly of my cologne, and slid it gently over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves with the care one might show a child. The sight of her drowning in my shirt, looking small and vulnerable, made something fierce and protective surge in my chest.
Once she was covered, I stepped back and looked down at my own soaked trousers, water still dripping onto the rug beneath me. I unbuttoned them, stripping the wet fabric and my briefs off in one motion, leaving them in a sodden heap on the floor. I grabbed another dry towel, tying it securely around my waist before leaning down to press a quick, firm kiss against her lips… a promise that I was still here, still hers, still committed to whatever she needed.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered against her mouth, reluctant to leave even for a moment. Her lips were soft and warm, and I wanted to stay there, breathing her in. “Don’t move p>
“Where are you going?” she asked, her hand instantly twitching toward my arm, her fingers brushing the bare skin as though she couldn’t bear to have me out of her sight for even a second. The vulnerability in that gesture nearly broke me. The fear in her eyes that I might not return cut deeper than any physical wound.
“Laundry room,” I explained, keeping my voice calm and reassuring, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “And then to the car. I need a change of clothes. Five minutes, tops. I promise.” I held her gaze, letting her see the truth in my eyes. I would always come back to her.