Chapter 20 so annoying
AMARA'S POV
Consciousness returned like a slow tide cold and reluctant. My eyes opened and I glared at the familiar walls, I'd bolted from hours before and the shitty scent of Kael that was on my clothes.
My body felt weak and a slow bloom of pain was tracing across my ribs where the guards gripped me yesterday. My wrists tingled so much but it was Leander's words that disturbed me more. His voice was in my head: I'm killing you the moment you done giving birth and my dead body will be sent to my father.
I pushed myself up on one elbow. Dizziness washed over me; the room tilted. I blinked hard and took in the bathroom door.
For a heartbeat I let myself forget everything. I really needed a shower.
I swung my legs off the bed, testing my strength. I was seriously hungry this time. My legs trembled but held. I moved quietly, every breath measured. Pain flared with movement; the bruise at my hip reminded me I'd been carried.
I crept to the bathroom door and opened it.
The thought of standing under hot water, even for a few minutes, felt like the only piece of sanity left. Maybe if I could just wash him off, I could breathe again.
The light flickered weakly when I flipped the switch. I looked at myself in the mirror.My eyes were swollen, my lip split, a faint bruise blooming near my temple.
I reached out, tracing the reflection of my face with trembling fingers. "You're still alive, you can save yourself ", I whispered to myself, voice barely a sound.
I needed a plan, something better than running blind into the woods next time. But the thought of next time felt ridiculous when I could barely stand upright without feeling like my ribs were splintering.
Turning the shower knob, I waited for the water to warm. When steam finally began to rise, I stripped out of the clothes I'd been wearing and stepped under the stream.
The first touch of hot water made me gasp. It stung where my skin was bruised and cut, but soon the pain softened into warmth. Dirt, blood, and dried sweat swirled down the drain in faint ribbons.
For the first time since the night before, I let myself cry, quietly, so no one could hear. The water drowned the sound. My tears mixed with it until I couldn't tell one from the other.
I leaned my forehead against the cold tile, letting the water pound against my back. My thoughts came in fragments: the forest, the chase, Kael's voice in my head — I'm killing you the moment you're done giving birth and i will take your dead body....
The words echoed, over and over, until I wanted to scream.
I pressed a hand to my stomach without thinking, so soon I will be carrying his hair.
Shit!
When the water finally began to cool, I turned it off and stood still for a moment, dripping, breathing. My body was shaking, but I felt cleaner, not safe, but cleaner.
I reached for a towel and wrapped it tightly around myself, then wiped the fog off the mirror. My reflection looked steadier now, more awake. Not strong, not yet but alive.
And that had to count for something.
I found a comb on the sink and dragged it through my tangled hair, wincing when it caught on a knot.
I was halfway through brushing the ends when the door suddenly burst open.
"Oh my god!" I squealed, clutching the towel tight against my body, the comb slipping from my wet fingers and clattering to the floor. My heart slammed against my ribs. For one horrible second, I thought it was Kael, that he'd come to drag me back out, to remind me that privacy didn't exist for people like me.
But it wasn't him.
Standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like she owned the place, was Lyra. Kael's sister again.
Relief and irritation tangled together inside me. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, breathless.
Lyra only smiled wider, her gaze flicking over me without shame.
"Relax," she said, her voice smooth and teasing. "I knocked. You just didn't hear."
I blinked, tightening my grip on the towel. "You call breaking down a door knocking?"
Her grin turned almost wicked. "You should've locked it from inside."
"Is that funny to you?" I snapped, my cheeks burning. "Walking in on someone who's—" I gestured helplessly to myself, still dripping, half-naked.
She looked unbothered. "Oh please," she said, "I'm a freaking werewolf, I have seen more naked bodies than the sea has fish."
Before I could reply, she walked to the closet to probably get me the clothes. She was trying to be friendly but it was instead annoying me. Her brother was hurting me and yet here she was sweet talking me.
I glared at her as she rifled through the closet, muttering to herself like it was some trivial chore. My towel was still clutched tight around me, and every nerve in my body was buzzing, half from residual fear, half from sheer frustration.
"Need some help, or are you just auditioning to be my personal stylist?" I asked, voice tight, trying to sound less rattled than I felt.
Lyra didn't even look at me. She pulled a gray oversized jumper and a pair of leggings from the shelf and tossed them toward the bed. "Here," she said, her tone breezy, like handing me clothes was nothing at all. "They'll fit… sort of."
I eyed them skeptically. The jumper looked enormous, the sleeves long enough to swallow my hands, and the leggings were stretched to the point where I could probably trip over them. Still, it was better than nothing.
"Thank you," I said, waiting for her to leave the room or at least turn around but she didn't. She just stood there watching me. We stood like that for a few moments, me clutching the clothes and the towel tightly and Lyra staring at me like she had all the time in the world.
Oh god, did she want me to change in front of her?