Page 73 of Deliria

She struggles against my grip, her breath coming in angry little pants. “Understand what? That you’re all fucking psychopaths?”

“Trust me,” I say, holding her gaze, willing her to see the sincerity in my eyes.

She laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “Trust you? Trust the man that just stood there and watched me being abused? I can’t trust any of you. You’re all the same. You’re all…”

I cut her off with a kiss. It’s not rough, though it is demanding.

Christ, she’s so kissable. Especially when she’s angry.

She freezes, her body rigid against mine. Then, slowly, she melts, her lips parting before she seems to come to her senses and she pulls back, slapping me once more.

“How fucking dare you.” She spits. “Is that what I am to you, to all of you, just a whore that you can use, abuse and pass around?”

“No,” The word comes out fiercely. “You’re not a whore, Scarlett, but there is so much going on right now that you don’t understand, that you can’t understand.”

Her eyes dart between mine, as if she thinks she might catch some lie in one of them.

“I’m not the idiot you all think I am…” She begins, that hate still there in her voice.

“You’re not an idiot.” I repeat. “But right now, you’re not in the right frame of mind to understand any of this, to risk…”

“Because I’m an invalid.” She hisses. “Because I’m too fragile and sick…”

My hand silences her protests, but I’m quick to remove it once she falls silent. “There’s a reason you’re here. A reason you allowed Alex to bring you here. A plan to all of this madness.”

“What plan?”

“I can’t tell you.” I know the words sound like bullshit. I know as soon as I speak them and she reacts exactly as I expect, with scorn and derision.

She snarls, pushing me away. “You think I’m that stupid?” She spits. “You think I’m that easily fooled?”

“It’s not about fooling you.” I snap, grabbing hold of her so she can’t try to escape again. “For fucksake, Scarlett, this is about saving your life.”

She stares back at me like I’ve thrown an entire bucket of water over her. “What are you saying?” She says oh so quietly.

“I’m on your side. I have been from the start.”

“But you, you chased me, you just…”

I smirk again. “I couldn’t resist when you offered yourself up so beautifully to me. I’m not a good man, Scarlett. The old you knew that, understood that. But that doesn’t mean I’m likehimeither. And I am on your side.”

She’s clearly torn between desperately wanting to believe me and afraid that this is just another trick, another manipulation meant to trap her.

“I’m on your side.” I repeat again, lifting my hand to cup her cheek while my thumb brushes away the remnants of her tears. “Let me show you,” I murmur. “Let me remind you that I’m different.”

Her brows furrow, confusion clouding her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to,” I say, stepping back. “It will all make sense. Just let me take care of you until it does.”

I reach for a washcloth, wetting it with warm water before wringing it out. I turn back to her, the cloth in my hand. She watches me warily, her body tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of threat.

“Close your eyes,” I say softly.

She hesitates for a moment before complying, her eyelids fluttering shut. I press the warm cloth to her face, gently wiping away the remnants of my brother.

She flinches slightly at the first touch, but as I continue, she relaxes, her breath evening out.

I wash her carefully, my touch gentle and deliberate. Her skin is soft, delicate under my fingers. I trace the lines of her face, the curve of her jaw, the sweep of her high cheekbones.

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