VEDA
When I woke up, the sun was shining through the window and Luca was no longer in bed. I rolled over with a yawn, feeling the sting of air hitting the small cut on my jaw that hadn't had time yet to heal, and slowly blinked my eyes open as memories of last night came rushing back. My cheeks burned as I remembered how I'd lashed out at Luca. The crazy thing I'd become in his arms as he'd pushed through the wall I'd built up around myself.
Something was very different now, though. And it wasn't just that I was physically satiated. There was shame for how I'd acted. Embarrassment for how I'd let him play me and how much I'd enjoyed it. But also…a strange sort of peace. All of the pent-up fear and rage that I'd hoarded inside the past few weeks was gone. Exorcised like a demon by Luca's unholy act of lust. I turned my head toward his side of the bed, extending my arm until I could touch his pillow. Too many emotions to name tangled inside of me as I plucked at the edge of the case covering it. I could still smell him in the bed, a mixture of clean soap and some kind of dark spice from whatever he wore on his skin. It made me rub my thighs together in an effort to ease the ache between them, the soreness from last night forgotten with my sudden need to feel his thick cock sinking into me again.
My eyes landed on a tear in the sheets. No, not a tear. The place where he'd stabbed the knife through the sheet and into the mattress. I felt strange as I stared at it. As I remembered the way he'd talked to me and the way I'd responded to his assault on my body. I'd known what he was doing even as it happened, but I couldn't stop my reaction. He'd done it on purpose to draw me out of my comatose state and get a reaction out of me. Made it safe for me to release the pain I'd crushed down inside through blood and sex. And it'd worked. And I…god…
I covered my face with my hands. I'd loved it as much as I'd hated it.
Oh man, I was really fucked up, wasn't I?
Setting all of that aside to think about more later, when I had the bandwidth to process everything, I got up out of bed and stretched, feeling the inconsequential aches and pains from last night. In the closet, I picked out a pair of peach, stone-washed, jean shorts and a navy tee with an image of Janis Joplin on the front and seriously debated hauling everything else back to the guest room I'd been staying in. But in the end, I didn't have the energy for this particular battle right now, and I hung up the rest where there was space. Luckily, I didn't need much. Then I shoved my underwear into one of the empty built-in drawers, keeping a comfy cotton set of pink hi-cut briefs with a plain matching bra to wear that was cut in a way it shouldn't irritate my chest.
As I walked in front of the bathroom mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself. I stilled, and slowly turned to face it. There were a few new bruises from Luca's rough hands last night where he'd gripped my arms, and a goodsized one on my thigh. Wasn't sure how that one got there. There was also a small nick on my jaw from the blade of his knife, but surprisingly, nothing else. It looked like no more than a scratch, or maybe a paper cut, in the light of morning.
As much as I told myself not to look, my eyes fell of their own accord to the "M" carved into my chest. I didn't look at it any more than I absolutely had to now. The day it happened though, I'd stood in the bathroom for two hours, staring at this new part of me, too shocked to cry and too scared to scream. It was healing pretty well since I'd gotten back to Luca's, but there were still quite a few areas that were scabbed over. I wondered how bad it would scar. Right now, it was raised and red and ugly, but I hoped that would calm down with time. Maybe even fade to a point it would be barely noticeable.
Before I could start freaking out again, I quickly brushed my teeth and got into the shower. The hot water stung my chest, but I forced myself to stay under the spray, wincing as I added soap and started washing myself. I don't know what I was hoping for. That maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, I could remove enough layers of skin to make it disappear? Or at least wash away the nightmares? Either way, it didn't work. Carefully thinking about nothing at all, I finished my shower and shut off the water.
When I stepped out, Luca was there, holding my towel out for me. I hadn't even heard him come in. I eyed the long scratches on the left side of his neck and his swollen right eye where the skin was beginning to discolor, then took it from him without a word. I didn't bother to try to hide my nakedness from him. He'd already seen all there was to see of me. Inside and out. There was no reason to hide anymore.
He was dressed casually today in dark jeans and a maroon T-shirt, his face clean shaven and his loafers on his feet. His eyes fell to the bruises on my arms and leg, then locked onto my chest for a few seconds before he looked away, but other than a muscle ticking in his jaw, he gave no reaction. "How are you feeling?" he asked me.
"I'm fine."
He watched me silently as I toweled myself off. "I brought you something." Then he walked over to the bathroom counter and picked up a jar.
Curious, I wrapped the towel around me and tucked the end inside just above my breasts as I followed him. He was holding a jar of petroleum jelly.
"This will help your cuts heal with minimal scarring." Taking off the top, he dipped two fingers inside and started spreading the stuff on the cuts on my chest. His expression was carefully neutral, but I didn't miss the tightness of his jaw or the flare of anger in his blue eyes as he spread it carefully over my skin. "I called my physician first thing to ask him if there was anything we could do. Plastic surgery, maybe, at some point. But as it's already started to heal, the most we can do right now is try to minimize the scar tissue. And hopefully it will just fade over time."
"I can always get a tattoo."
One eyebrow went up in disapproval. "I would never let you desecrate your body that way."
So that would explain why he was one of the few men I knew who didn't have any art on his skin. "It's not your choice," I informed him.
"Isn't it, Veda?"
I didn't bother to fight with him. Although I felt better after a good night's sleep and a shower, I was still mentally exhausted. Instead, I stood in front of him and let him put the ointment on me, loosening my towel when he ordered me to so he could get the entire thing. When he was finished, he dabbed a little on the nick on my jaw.
Out of nowhere, tears welled in my eyes, and I tried to blink them back before he could see. But, of course, he noticed. Luca noticed everything.
"What's this?" he asked as one escaped. Cupping the side of my face in one hand, he brushed it away with his thumb.
I just shook my head. "Nothing. I'm just feeling sorry for myself."
"It'll fade, amore."
I tried for a smile, and failed miserably. "I know."
"We're supposed to cover this with bandages-"
He started to walk away to find some, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. "That's okay. The tape irritates my skin. I can just put more on when I need to."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." I paused, still hanging onto his arm with one hand while the other kept my towel from falling, and met his eyes. "Thank you," I told him sincerely. I wasn't just talking about the petroleum jelly, and I could see by the way he fell completely still that he knew it.
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes dipping to my chest until he tore them away. In a steely voice, he said, "Get dressed and come down to my office. We have some things to discuss."