Her Tainted Soul (Hounds of Hell Book 1) by K J Wilson

Author:K J Wilson [Wilson, K J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Amity

I wake early the next day feeling extremely refreshed.

I turn over in bed to find that Tynan is gone, assumingly to do the morning feeds and walks. Fallon texted last night to let me know everything would be taken care of by herself and the other workers, and to take one more day for myself. I’d earned it, apparently.

I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out when I read that part. If only she knew how much I did not deserve it. I didn’t deserve anything good, not after what I’d done.

I could take another day. I could lay in bed and overthink on how long I have left, when they might come for me.

But I don’t want to spend my final hours worrying over it. I’m resigned to the fact that I'm on borrowed time, and I don’t want to waste it laying in bed sulking.

I jump out of bed and head straight for the shower. As I reach the doorway, I pause. Flashes of the night before play over in my mind, and I can’t help the blush that creeps up my neck.

God, the things we did last night…

My pussy clenches around nothing at the thought.

I saw a whole new side of Tynan that was honestly a little…surprising.

His bedroom behaviour was such a far cry from his usual, gentle nature. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, because fuck, I did.

It only further cements the notion that he is perfect. I fight the urge to cry at the thought of leaving him behind, of never being able to touch or speak to or be around him again.

I open the shower door, reaching in and turning the tap aggressively. Freezing cold.

The urge to purge the anxiety and panic from my body, with the scorching temperature I had grown accustomed to after that night, is overwhelming.

It's been so long since I had any temperature other than freezing cold. An opposing habit that had come about the day I realised I was going to burn in Hell for all eternity.

It seems that day is going to be upon me sooner than I thought.

I internally war with my decision.

A skin-scalding temperature, or north pole-worthy temperature?

Eventually, I opt for the freezing temperature. The urge to commit the feel of the icy spray, burning in a whole different way against my skin, to memory seems to be stronger than the former. I have the rest of my eternal damnation to burn, I want to feel the cold while I still can.

I spend way too long in the shower, scrubbing vigorously at my skin like I always do. Remembering how it felt that first day I started the habit. Blood. There was blood everywhere.

I could feel it in my pores, taste it on my tongue. It felt as though it had melded itself to my skin, so I scrubbed.

I got into the shower, pressed the loofa to my skin and scrubbed until I couldn’t feel my own skin.

The blood was gone, but I could still see it.

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