Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
44
Payton
If I tellTrent I’m better, will he kick me out of his bed?
My ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, and to be honest, I’m almost fully recovered. At this point, I’m just milking it.
Am I just a passing fancy?
An itch he needs to scratch?
Is this part of his guilt?
No.
I stave off the insecurities that have no place inside me. This is more than that. I can feel it.
I get dressed and make my way into the kitchen.
No one is here right now, which I’m cool with.
Trent sent everyone but security away. Said he wanted to be alone with me. And well, I’m famished from our alone time.
Opening the fridge, I grab an apple and sit down on one of the high stools at the kitchen island.
As I eat, I hear the sound of his shoes before I see Trent.
He looks a little rough around the edges. His hair is a mess. It’s the circles under his eyes that have me worried. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, which is weird because we sleep in the same bed.
Except for last night.
He was gone when I went to bed and gone when I woke up.
As he gets closer, I also notice something else . . . Red splotches of blood darken his right hand and sleeve. Whatever he did, I have a feeling it wasn’t good. I also have a feeling it had to do with me.
“You have . . .” I trail off, nodding to his sleeve.
For some reason, I can’t find it in me to say what he has on him, and he must realize it because he looks down, and his face grows sullen.
Lines form along his brows.
“I’m going to shower.”
I don’t object.
I let him walk away, but for some reason, I feel like he needs me, so I get down from the chair and make my way to his bedroom.
I find him in the bathroom staring at his hands.
He’s in a trance.
“I’ve never taken a life before . . .”
Shuddering inwardly at the revelation, I don’t let him see my reaction. Taking a life must be devastating, but this isn’t about me. I heard from Mr. Baker that Trent deals with bad men. I know this. I have no doubt, whoever it was, he deserved it.
But I’m not the one who needs to hear this.
These are his demons, and I need to comfort him.
I place my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
And I am.
This is one hundred percent about what happened to me.
“Maybe I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, but I’m the reason he’s dead.” His hand reaches up to squeeze mine where it’s placed on his arm.
Dried blood transfers to my skin.
“Did he deserve it?” I whisper, staring at the dark red.
“Yes.”
“Then you have nothing to regret.”
I step closer to him, taking his bloody hands in mine.
Most of it is dried.
But still, it’s there.
And even after they wash away, the stains of blood will linger.
Maybe not enough to see, but the traumas of our past never really go away.
It’s okay, though.
I see that now.
Pain makes you stronger.
“Let me help you,” I whisper, standing on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
I pull him with me, and then I turn on the water to the shower.
Together, clothes on, we stand beneath the hot streams.
“You did what you had to do,” I reassure him.
“How did I become this man?” he mutters to himself, steeped in regret.
“You are a good man.”
“I cheat people out of money for a living.”
I know him well enough to know his “victims” aren’t good people. That they did something to fall onto his radar. Something bad.
Vigilante justice is still justice.
Sometimes, the underworld has its own rules. Its own jury. Its own judges.
Its own sentence.
“You do what you have to do to survive.” I hold his hand under the water, letting the crimson wash away and swirl down the drain until it disappears out of sight. “This wasn’t of your making. You did this to protect the people you love. Not just your family, but all the people in the senior living home. You’re a good man, Trent Aldridge.”
“You barely know me.”
“I see you.”
I think he’s going to say more, to fight me on this. To tell me I don’t.
But instead, his mouth latches on to mine.
Then his tongue sweeps in.
All words are lost.
All feelings swept away.
All we have is now.
I kiss him back.
I tell him with my mouth all the things I know he will never let me say.
Without breaking away, I feel his hands on me. He rids me of my soaking wet pajama pants. I do the same, helping him out of his ruined clothes. The air is foggy with the steam and our lust mingling together.
Then he lifts me.
I feel him hard against my skin.
We continue to kiss as he aligns himself with my core. Our mouths never separate as he thrusts inside, and I gasp at the sensation.
It’s everything we both need.
It feels like he fuses himself with me.
Like we’re one.
Our bodies say everything.
Confess everything.
They say the words we’re not ready to say.
He works himself in and out.
Pulling and pushing inside me.
It’s too much.
The emotions fill me, bringing tears to my eyes.
They are masked by the water streaming down from above, and I cry out in climax with his name, which he quickly follows with mine, breathlessly, against my lips.
We stay entwined for a few more seconds before he places me back down on the steady ground.
It doesn’t feel the same, though.
It feels like everything has changed.