Reckless (Black Mansion Boys Book 1) by J. L. Winter

Author:J. L. Winter [Winter, J. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Rose

He was breaking me.

I was letting him get too close.

The thoughts haunt me, swirl around my brain as I make my way towards the bathroom and watch in silence as my tub slowly fills with water. It was one of those part shower part tub situations and after a brief moment of contemplation (mainly standing clutching my side) I realized that a shower was simply out of the question and there was no way I could remain comfortably standing for that long. Even for something as brief as a shower.

So a bath it was.

Eyes trained on the raising water level I ignore once again the not-so-very subtle dodge of my question to Kaleb regarding the journal. I’d be a fool to think he did not want it back but it was curious how he sidestepped the issue altogether. He hasn't been able to shut up about getting his journal back from me for days and suddenly he doesn't want to talk about it.

He was hiding something. Of that I was sure. He must have been if he was crazy enough to show up at my door unannounced, not even mentioning the journal once, and then accept my deal after he had so blatantly rejected it not two days prior.

Grumbling, I turn off the faucet and lay out my towel. Taking off my shirt was a whole other matter in itself. My side still ached painfully and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out as I raised my arm above my head, nearly passing out from the pain. I repeat the process with my other arm, my shirt falling flimsily to the floor.

I had let him touch me. Let him slip past my boundaries like a dark knight who had disregarded the king’s orders and was now following his own agenda. Fulfilling his own destiny and selfish dark wishes. And I, like the broken princess I am, had let him.

Couldn't resist him to my own demise. His touch was like feeling light after your skin after spending eternity locked in a dungeon of darkness. I needed it to survive.

Touch.

His touch.

After not having it for so long I simply couldn't live without it now. He was starting to get too deep. The urge to leave, to run, ran its claws deep into my chest, threatening to spill blood. But I couldn't run from him. Not after what he had just agreed to. Not after what he had just declared out on my second-hand leather couch.

Not after what I had let him do to me.

I take a couple of steps towards the steaming tub just as white spots dance across my vision and I have to grip the edge of the tub to keep my feet from slipping out from me. Taking a chance, I decide to glance down at my bare stomach, a task I’ve been avoiding all day, and nearly hiss at the sight.

A huge black and purple bruise swells across my ribs, achingly tender to the touch.

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