Page 28 of Devils Cut

I swallowed hard, trying to process everything he was saying. Part of me wanted to rage at him, to scream and cry and tear apart the room. But what would that accomplish? He wasn’t mine.

"Corvus, it's alright. You can do whatever the fuck you want – it's your damn office," I said, my voice wavering slightly as I tried to sound nonchalant. But deep down, the whole situation gnawed at my gut like a ravenous beast.

"Tempest, I--" he began, but I cut him off. I didn't need his apologies or explanations.

"Drop it, Corvus." My frown deepened, and I thought I caught a flash of regret in his eyes.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of my own body pressing down on me. The world seemed to tilt dangerously, but I gritted my teeth and stood up. Corvus lunged towards me, his arms outstretched, ready to catch me if I fell.

"Please, don't," I whispered harshly, holding up a hand to stop him.

"Sorry," Corvus muttered, taking a step back and giving me some space. I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the remnants of the fucked-up memories that crept into my head.

"Hey," I said, looking at him with a weak smile. "Would you mind if I took a shower? I smell like stale smokes and beer from work."

"Of course," Corvus nodded, walking out and coming back with a clean towel as he pointed down the hall to the bathroom. "Take as long as you need, princess."

"Thanks," I mumbled, collecting my clothes and toiletry bag before heading into the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I felt a small sense of relief in having a moment alone.

As I stripped down and stepped into the shower, the hot water cascaded over my body. It was the first real shower I'd had since leaving Australia, and it felt fuckin' amazing. Grabbing the soap, I scrubbed my skin, removing what felt like years' worth of dirt, grime, and memories I wished I could wash away.

But as I scrubbed harder, the flashbacks of Greg's hands touching me invaded my mind, and I couldn't help but let out a growl of frustration.

"Fuck off," I whispered to myself, gritting my teeth and trying to push the memories away. "You don't control me anymore."

The hot water poured over me, a torrent of cleansing heat that threatened to drown out the world. But no matter how hard I tried to escape, memories of Greg's hands invaded my thoughts like a fucking virus. My meltdown at the bar had cracked open a door I'd worked so hard to keep shut.

"Get out of my head," I whispered through clenched teeth as tears mingled with the shower spray. "You don't own me.”

My legs trembled, and I sank to the floor, letting the water wash over me while I hugged my knees tight to my chest. The shower's roar muffled my sobs as I let it all out, every tear a piece of shattered armour I'd worn for far too long.

Fuck, why can't I just end it? I thought, my chest heaving as each sob wracked through my body. I'm strong enough, aren't I? Or am I just too fucking scared?

But every time that dark thought surfaced, I chickened out. What if I failed? What if I couldn't even take control of my own life in the one way that mattered most?

Chapter 14

Corvus King

Tempest took over an hour in the shower, and I was sure the hot water had to have run out by now. The steam from the bathroom billowed out like a fog. She emerged, her hair damp and clinging to her face, wearing an oversized T-shirt that hung off one shoulder.

I sat in the lounge, Wuthering Heights open on my lap. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she smirked at me, then quoted,"For what is not connected with her to me? And what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day—I am surrounded with her image!"

"Ha, you've read it too?" I couldn't help but grin back at her. This woman was full of surprises.

"Maybe," she teased. Then, she said, "I would like to sleep on my own tonight," and turned, walking back to her room. The broken door creaked as she closed it behind her.

My heart clenched at her words. Could I be Heathcliff to her? Was she my Catherine? I hoped not; that love story had a tragic ending.

A part of me wanted to follow her, to protect her from whatever demons haunted her sleep. But I didn't. Instead, I went to my bed, rereading passages from the book that suddenly held new meaning for me.

The moon cast an eerie glow through the curtains as I lay there, thoughts of Tempest consuming me. The hands on the clock seemed to mock me, ticking away the minutes until sleep finally took hold.

"NO!" Her scream tore through the silence like a bullet, and I was out of bed in an instant, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Tempest!" I shouted, barging into her room without a second thought. She thrashed in her sleep, tangled in the sheets, her face twisted in terror.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," I murmured, pulling her into my arms. Her body trembled against mine, but the warmth of my embrace seemed to calm her, the wild panic in her eyes slowly fading.

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