Page 57 of Brutal Knight

I mumble the words against her skin like she can absorb them and know I’m telling the truth. When I look up, Willow blinks at me, her eyes hazy and distracted. It takes a long moment for her to find her words.

“What?”

Her brow is furrowed, her gaze wandering over me. The one word she utters doesn’t sound disturbed or disgusted. It sounds stunned.

I can’t believe that no one has ever done this for her, that no one’s offered. It would make me furious all over again for her, but instead, I let it go. I have to focus on Willow here, now.

I rest my fingers against her arm, not holding her but just touching. I want her to know that my touch will never hurt her.

“I can try to make up for some of the pain,” I say. I brush my fingers up her arm and watch her shiver. “I can make you feel good.”

Willow doesn’t pull away. Her pupils dilate, her breathing still fast and uneven. Her body is responding to me. She might still say no, but I don’t think she’s going to. Not when it’s clear just how much she’s affected by this.

But when Willow speaks, her rough, whispered words surprise me.

“I can’t feel anything anymore,” she breathes. “I can’t. I’m…broken.”

For a second, I think maybe I heard wrong—or maybe she doesn’t mean it, maybe she’s lying. Maybe she wants to say no but doesn’t feel like she can.

When I look into her blue-gray eyes, though, all I see is the truth.

She really believes it. She believes that she’s incapable of feeling anything.

But she’s wrong.

Keeping my gaze locked on her, I study the way she looks in this moment. As I brush my hands up her arms, I watch Willow shiver, her pupils blowing out wide as her eyelids flutter. Her breath hitches, and she inhales and holds it in her lungs like she’s waiting for something.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I say. I lean in a little when I speak, noticing the way she sways toward me.

Willow shakes her head, but the movement is distracted, as if she’s trying to clear her mind. The more I touch her, and the more she responds, the more certain I become that I’m right.

She isn’t broken. She’s not unfeeling. She’s just locked herself away, so careful not to be hurt, that she can’t allow herself to let go.

I’m going to change that.

“You’re not broken at all,” I whisper. “If you’ll let me, I’ll make you feel good. Can I try?”

She looks up at me, a flush on her cheeks. “Yes.”

It’s clear how hard it is for her to say that one word. I take her hand in mine, keeping my grip loose, and start to lead her upstairs.

I know I have to be careful. Things haven’t gone smoothly between us, even if part of the problem was my ignorance of what she’d suffered. Even now that I know, I can’t expect it to be easy. There’s a chance Willow will shut down at any time, or pull away.

If it happens, I can’t say I won’t be disappointed. But I know I can’t expect something perfect. I can only hope it’s enough to show her she’s worth more.

I don’t turn the lights on when we enter. It was probably hard for her to show me her scars, and I don’t want her to feel any more exposed. I lead Willow to the bed in the dim room, then carefully guide her onto it.

She settles back as if in a trance, her eyes still locked on me as a flicker of recognition sparks in their depths. I know she might feel trapped if I’m over her. So I let her get comfortable first, then rest one knee on the bed as I look down at her. I don’t put my hands down or trap her with my body.

“I want you to trust me,” I say.

Willow looks up at me, conflict in her eyes. I wait a beat for her to refuse or set rules. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. But she just looks at me, so I keep going.

“Just do what I say. Trust me.”

She nods, her eyes wide.

I take the chance for what it is. I won’t make her second-guess herself. Whatever kind of spell she’s under, I’m not going to break it. She clearly feels safe right now. I won’t waste that.

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