Let her wash the blood from my skin with careful hands. Let her shampoo my hair while I stand under the spray. Let her tend to me like I'm something precious instead of a monster who just orchestrated the torture-murder of six men.
Something about the care cracks something inside me.
"Turn around," I tell her.
She does.
I pull her back against my chest, one hand sliding down her stomach, between her legs. Find her already wet.
"Always ready for me." The words come out rough.
"Always." She leans back into me.
I slide two fingers inside her. Work her slowly while hot water cascades over us both. My other hand comes up to her breast, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger.
"Lev—" She gasps. "Please—"
"What do you need?"
"You. Inside me. Now."
I turn her around, lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist automatically. Press her against the tile wall and slide into her in one smooth motion.
The sound she makes goes straight to my brain.
I fuck her slowly. Deeply. Watching her face as pleasure builds. Water streams over us, washing away the last traces of violence, leaving just this—her and me and the twisted need between us.
"I love you." She says it against my mouth. "I know you don't want to hear it. I know it doesn't change anything. But I need you to know."
"I know." I increase the pace. "I know,Milaya."
She comes with my name on her lips, clenching around me, and I follow immediately, burying myself deep and letting the orgasm take me.
After the tremors cease, I clean us both properly. Then carry her to bed wrapped in towels.
She tends to my knuckles—antiseptic, bandages, careful fingers that linger longer than necessary.
"Who was it tonight?" she asks quietly.
"Rival family. Testing boundaries while I'm hunting Patrick." I watch her work. "Had to remind them I'm still dangerous. Still in control."
"You are." She finishes wrapping my hand. "The most dangerous man I've ever known."
"Does that scare you?"
"Terrifies me." She meets my eyes. "And turns me on. And makes me feel safer than I've ever felt. All at the same time."
I pull her down beside me. She curls against my chest, and I realize I'm about to do something I haven't done in five years.
Actually talk.
"When Katya died—" The words stick in my throat. "When I found them—I couldn't process it. The guilt. The rage. Theabsolute certainty that I'd failed in the most fundamental way possible."
Valerie stays quiet. Just listens.
"I was supposed to protect them. That's what I do. What I've always done. Protect what's mine." My hand strokes through her hair. "But I wasn't there. I was handling business across town. And while I was gone, Patrick and his men helped my then rival break in and executed my family."
"That wasn't your fault—"