Severed Ties: A Dark Stalker Romance (Tainted Love Book 1)
Severed Ties: Chapter 42

She’s pulling away from me. I can feel it.

Ever since I pulled my cock from her, she’s been withdrawing slowly.

It started when I told her I don’t like to be touched, or maybe it was before that and I was too blissed out to realize. Either way, it’s not acceptable, and she’s going to learn very quickly that there will be no secrets between us, and there certainly won’t be any distance.

I carry her into the shower after sending Doc a text to come patch up my bullet wound, and I wash every inch of her body, watching as our mutual blood washes down the drain. The dark tiles are used to it, but there’s something different about the blood we’ve bled together. Something meaningful, almost.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask although it’s a stupid question. I know I did. I cut her, for God’s sake, and small bruises in the form of fingers are starting to spring up all over her fair skin, but it’s not physical pain I’m worried about. It’s the wounds I can’t see. The ones she’ll try to hide from me.

Clara shakes her head, reaching for the door to the shower.

I quickly step in her way, not allowing her the escape she so desperately wants. “Don’t run from me, fawn.”

“I’m not running,” she says quietly, but there’s dejection in her tone, and I don’t like it. It makes the pit of my stomach revolt painfully. I can’t lose her when I’ve only just made her mine. I won’t.

“I need to know if I hurt you, Clara.”

“I’m not hurt.” She drags her eyes down her own body and pauses on my handprint bruising into her hip. “Well, not really.” She cracks a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I realize Clara and I are more alike than I thought. She’s afraid to get close, afraid to lose people she cares about or to trust others when everyone she’s ever known has brought her pain.

I’ve never wished I could hold someone more, but while normally her touch would set off panic in the back of my mind and send the demons into chaos, touching her naked could lead to me hurting her, and that’s something I will not risk. Her safety is the most important thing to me at all times, and I won’t do anything to risk hurting her.

I consider her for long seconds before giving her a curt nod. “Doc will be here soon.”

Her eyes flicker with guilt as they move over the wound in my shoulder. It’s barely a flesh wound. It’s just bleeding like a motherfucker because of where it is. It’s not the first time Doc has patched me up, and I’m sure as hell it won’t be the last.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” she whispers.

I chuckle and shake my head, prowling toward her until her back hits the wall of the shower and she hisses out a breath from the cold tiles on her overheated skin. She lifts her hands to touch my chest but quickly lowers them again and presses them on either side of her hips. I stop just a breath away from her, the hot water beating down around us.

“I’m not.”

Her mouth pops open in surprise, and I continue.

“You had every right to retaliate when you found out what I had been doing. And you’re a terrible shot, so it just made for a good time.” I wink.

“I am not a terrible shot,” she snaps. “Maybe I just didn’t want to actually hurt you.”

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Have I ever smiled this much? I can’t remember doing so, and I can’t remember feeling so…light. Like the weight of the world isn’t on my shoulders and I can drag full breaths into my lungs.

“If you didn’t want to hurt me, you wouldn’t have shot me at all.”

She glares up at me, but there’s a whisper of a smile on her lips. She doesn’t realize how well I know her, and I’m not about to volunteer that information, not when it will only make it easier for her to hide from me.

I chuckle and press my lips to her forehead in a tender movement that feels both foreign and right. “Go get dressed. I’ll have to kill Doc if he sees you naked.”

She giggles like I’m joking, but when she realizes I’m not laughing, she pales. “You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t really hurt him for seeing me?”

“Oh, I would, little fawn. I suggest you remember that.”

I find Clara pacing across the length of my apartment, her hair still dripping from the shower and her body engulfed in what appears to be one of my sweaters that falls to just above her knees. I can’t help but watch her pace, her hand covering her mouth as she silently freaks out about the things that have happened in the last few hours.

It’s understandable that she’s overwhelmed, but I don’t like seeing her look so distressed. She looks like a wild animal looking for an escape, but although I don’t want her to come to think of being with me as a cage, she’s going to have to learn to deal with having certain measures in place to keep her safe. Because her safety is my main priority. Always. She can kick and scream and flex those pretty little claws, but her safety is not up for debate.

She finally pauses when she catches me watching her from the doorway of the bathroom, the only room that’s separated from the main studio. I’ve thrown on a pair of sweatpants but haven’t bothered to put anything else on, and by the way Clara’s eyes drag up my chest, I’d say she appreciates my state of undress.

“Is that my sweater?” I rumble and push off from the doorframe.

It may only be a few yards, but I hate having any distance between us. Ironic, huh? I can’t allow her to touch me, but I also can’t be on the opposite side of the room from her.

Clara looks down at what she’s wearing and a deep blush creeps up her neck and spreads across her cheeks. “Yeah, sorry. I just saw it sitting on your dresser and put it on. I can change.” She looks around until her eyes lock on the bag I’ve packed for her sitting by the front door, just beyond the small puddle of blood from where she shot me.

Before she can start for it, I capture her wrist in my hand and tug her into my arms. She makes a startled sound in the back of her throat but doesn’t fight, allowing her arms to fall by her sides so she doesn’t touch me. I’m not sure what it is about that movement that makes my chest ache with an unfamiliar emotion. Perhaps, although it comes naturally to return the hug, she’s going against that so as not to make me uncomfortable. Or perhaps because having her in my arms settles the chaos in my mind just enough for me to feel.

“Don’t,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I like you in my clothes.”

“But Doc is coming,” she argues, attempting to step back from my embrace, but I hold her tight.

“And Doc will not care what you’re wearing. He’s coming to patch me up. I’ll get him to look at your cut as well, and then he’ll be off to do his usual grumpy-asshole bullshit.”

“I don’t need him to look at me, Tommy. I’m fine, not even bleeding anymore.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “I’d still feel better if he makes sure you don’t need a stitch.”

She looks up at me, her eyes sparking with emotion and fear. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to comfort anyone, since my foster sister.

The thought of her makes my chest ache. Ace and I failed her, and neither of us has forgiven ourselves for it. I don’t think we ever will.

“You’re awfully worried, considering you were the one who cut me,” she teases.

“You shouldn’t look so pretty when you bleed.”

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