Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5) (20 page)

He enveloped her in his arms again. “It’s okay, baby. I’m with you.”

Jack would keep her safe. No matter what. He was her candle on the water. Her lighthouse on the ocean. She could tell him. He could handle it. She pressed her nose into his shirt.

“He wanted me to die,” she whispered. “They all wanted me to die. I was of no use to them. They’d tortured me for two weeks and they knew I was never going to talk. He beat me to within an inch of my life. To make sure I suffered in the most agonizing way possible. It felt like I was on fire. He wanted me to beg for mercy but I never did.” She pulled her head up. “I never did.”

Jack wiped the tears off her face. “I believe you.”

“He kept beating me and beating me. And he wouldn’t – he didn’t slow down.” She took a deep breath. “And then he just…stopped.” 

She pressed her hand to her abdomen. Jack placed his hand over hers, nodding in understanding. “I have no idea where he got the knife,” she whispered. “He made sure I got a good look at it and sliced my chest before he slowly ran it across my stomach. He taunted me while he was doing it. Then he left me to bleed to death. I wanted to die.” She pulled away. “Sometimes I wish I had.”

Caroline wiped her eyes and stared at the wall. “I remember who I used to be, you know. It’s not like I’ve forgotten. I used to wonder what it was about me that people found so likable. I still don’t understand. And I’d underestimated how many people out there might truly hate me. But that woman is gone, Jack. She’s vanished. No one can bring her back, not even you. We can’t rewind the clock.”

“I know,” he said. “But she’s a part of you. You’re a wonderful woman, Caroline. I love you. And I am so, so proud of you.” He kissed her gently. “None of this was your fault. You did everything right. You were so incredibly brave, my love. You have to stop blaming yourself. Please. Just try.” He kissed the scars on her wrists and looked at her intently. “Please.”

So much damage, both physical and mental. Jack didn’t want to think about it. Caroline was giving him what she could handle, but she was holding something back. A
lot
back. And he suspected she was doing it to protect him. He had to take baby steps, marching in time with her. They’d get to where they needed to be. Together.

He traced one of the scars on her left wrist. “This is from the handcuffs,” he said.

“Yes. The cuffs were too tight. Sometimes they’d cuff me through the back of the chair, sometimes not.” She twisted her fingers together. “I couldn’t – I’d move my wrists, because it hurt. My hands got numb. I rubbed them raw, day after day.”

Jack placed his hands over hers. “And the rope scars didn’t heal either.”

“Too much damage had been done. I never set foot in a hospital until I got here.”

“Your friends took care of you.”

Caroline shrugged. “They got me out and did the best they could.”

“They brought you back to me and that’s enough.” He kissed each wrist in turn. “No more pain, though.”

“No,” she said softly. “No pain. Just – sometimes when I look at the scars, I remember what happened. And that makes it hurt. It was bad. It was really, really bad.”

Funny how the hardest things rendered a person inarticulate. He didn’t know how to phrase it either. “I know,” he said. “I want to help so it doesn’t bother you as much anymore. Do you think we can work on that?”

“I’ll try.”

He closed his eyes. “What did that asshole do to your back?”

She bit her lip. “It’s pretty messed up. The buckle-”

Those baby steps were getting shorter and shorter. What was under that Oxford shirt? “I understand,” he interrupted.

Dammit. He had to do a better job of showing support. Even if he wanted to aim one of the rebellion’s missiles straight at Washington in the hope that he could blow that fucker Murdock up with a single blast, vengeance could come later.

“The scar on your stomach,” he whispered. “Does that – does it still hurt?”

“No,” she said. “It’s a little numb. He must have cut through some nerve endings.”

Jesus Christ. Another mental image he didn’t need. He was starting to think that reality was worse than his imagination. Much worse. Goddamn monsters.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “I swear.”

“I just – when I touched you and you freaked out, I thought-”

Caroline reddened. “I didn’t want you to discover it that way. You caught me off guard.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t want to find out that way either. I was so afraid I’d hurt you, or reminded you of something, and I-”

“Some wounds run deeper than others. But you didn’t hurt me that night.” She reached for his hands, pulling them away from his head. “You could never hurt me.”

“I’ll try not to, baby. I swear.”

“Do you want to see what they did to me?” she asked.

No. Yes. I don’t know.
“If you want me to.”

They had to face it sometime. But she didn’t look too thrilled at the prospect. She got up from the couch to face him. Her hands shook as she brought them up to her shirt. Her fingers drifted over the buttons and she let out a shuddering breath.

Jack covered her hands with his. He could help her through it. Be the strong one. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

She pressed one finger into the middle of a button and stopped. “I think this might have been a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll help you. If you want.” He glanced down the hall. “Would you feel more comfortable in the bedroom?”

The relief on her face led him to believe she wanted him to guide her through it. So he would. When they got to their bedroom he brought her hands to her sides and leaned in. “I want you to concentrate and breathe,” he said. “You’re safe. Nothing can happen to you here. If you want me to stop, just say the word. All right?”

Caroline nodded and Jack began to unbutton her shirt. “You’re fine,” he said. “Focus on my voice.”

She closed her eyes and grasped the front of his polo, breathing rapidly. He reached the last button and opened the front of her shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded again, her eyes squeezed shut. Jack pushed the Oxford material over her shoulders until it slid onto the floor. He ran his hands down her arms and grasped her hands in his.

“You’re okay, baby.” He placed her hand on his chest. “Feel my heart beat. Take a deep breath.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. He brushed a kiss across her hair.

“Let me look at you,” he said.

Caroline stepped back, still trembling, and let go of his hands. She kept her eyes shut. He wasn’t about to tell her to keep them open. Not when he was having such a hard time himself. It would be easier if she didn’t have to watch him. The stark light in the room gave him a much harsher view of her body than she had probably intended. But there was no going back.

He started with what he knew he could handle. The small scar from when she’d been shot at the Capitol. A faint line at the top of her breast, barely visible over her bra line. Murdock and his fucking knife. The jagged scar across her stomach. Seeing it was worse than feeling it. What did her emotional damage compare to what those men – what
that
man – had done to her? He reached for her, sweeping his fingers across her shoulder. A tear slid down her cheek and he kissed it away.

Be strong. Be strong for her.

He trailed his hand along her arm until he was behind her, and closed his eyes. Maybe he could get through it by touching her first. Pretending she wasn’t his wife. That it was someone else who’d been tortured and maimed and treated in unspeakably evil ways. When he felt the first red welt he choked back a gasp and opened his eyes. The scars all ran together, forming a wicked pattern up and down her back. Cosmetic flaws, but the damage ran so much deeper than that.

Jack was soaked in guilt, his clothes coated in it like kerosene. The slightest prompt could set him alight and reduce him to charred remains. He withdrew his hand. He didn’t have the right to touch her. All his words, all his false encouragement seemed meaningless now. Dear God, what had he done to her?

“Oh, Caroline. I should have stayed with you.” He fell to his knees. “Please forgive me.”

What a weak, pitiful man he was. Unable to protect his wife, unable to heal her wounds. She should have let him walk out the door the night before, because being with him had never done her any good. He buried his face in his hands.

He felt her fingers running through his hair. She was saying something. Was she trying to comfort him? He sank into the curve of her hip and began to sob, repeating his regrets over and over again.

She knelt down beside him, her lips at his cheek. Never uttering a word, just holding on.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Caroline pressed her hands to his. “Look at me.”

She hated him. She had to. How could she ever absolve him of this transgression? He shook his head back and forth.

“Look at me,” she repeated.

Her voice was shaking. Fuck, he’d made her cry too. He hadn’t meant to do that. “I can’t.”

She tilted his head up, wiping the tears from his face. “There’s nothing to forgive, Jack. Neither one of us caused this.”

He couldn’t let this go. He wouldn’t. Not until he’d slaughtered every single man who had ever hurt her and salted the ground after. “I don’t-”

“This isn’t your fault. None of them hurt anymore. They’re just marks, remember?”

They can’t pierce your heart unless you let them.
What a time for her to use his own words against him. She’d been so worried about revealing her scars and now she was the one trying to make him feel better. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Weren’t you the one lecturing me last night about apologies? Stop.” She beckoned him to stand, kissing him gently after they reached their feet. Jack reached out to touch her, then stopped.

“It’s okay,” she said.

He stared at the floor, trying to hide his emotions from her. She squeezed his fingers and brought them to the scar below her ribcage.

“Touch me,” she said. “Please.”

He couldn’t keep his voice steady. “I don’t have the right.”

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it before closing her eyes. “You absolutely do.”

He kissed her cheek. He could do this. She wanted him to. He left his hand drift downward, stopping at her stomach. Jack ran his fingers along the scar and she stiffened. Did she want him to stop? He ceased his movements.

“No,” she said. “Keep going.”

He could learn how to read her again. Figure out what was desire and what was caution. He was out of practice but she’d be patient with him. He ran his hands along her torso, tracing a trail to her back until he was behind her. He ran a finger along the buckle marks, lowering his head and placing a soft kiss on one of the larger scars. He heard her suppress a sob.

Jack kissed her neck and wrapped one of his arms around her waist. “It’s okay, baby.”

It took a minute before she squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath. “I know,” Caroline said softly. “It feels good. I just need to get used to it.”

He wanted his touch to mean more than physical pleasure. He kept going and she leaned into his hands, concentrating. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

She intertwined her fingers with his. “Keep touching me, Jack. Please.”

He spun her around to face him. Caroline touched her fingers to his lips and he kissed them. She let her arms drift around his neck. “Keep going.”

Fuck, he’d do whatever she wanted when she gave him that look. Spoke to him in that tone. He kissed the scars on her wrists. “I love you,” he whispered.

She ran her hands through his hair. “I know.”

“I miss you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful. My beautiful, fearless, courageous wife.” He traced a path downward from her neck to her bra, kissing her shoulder. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he said.

Caroline smiled. “You said that the first time we slept together.”

“I meant it then and I mean it now.”

She mussed his hair again. “I definitely don’t want you to stop.”

Their lips met and Jack pulled her closer. His hands caressed her neck, her shoulders, her torso. He walked around again until he was behind her, gently tugging at the band of her bra, pulling back as she shuddered. He needed to learn her cues again.

“May I-?”

Her voice was almost a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

Jack unhooked the bra and pushed the straps off her shoulders. Every inch of her was fucking perfect. He just had to make her believe it. He kissed the scars on her back as he reached around and cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging them lightly. Caroline let out a soft moan that traveled straight to his cock. He could do this. And she’d love it.

“Come here,” she said, and pulled him by one hand until he was facing her again. He began trailing kisses down her breastbone to below her ribcage, where he dropped to his knees and kissed the jagged scar lovingly. He tugged at her pants, slipping his finger under the waistband. Caroline put her hands in his hair.

“Don’t stop, Jack,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He lowered his head and nuzzled his nose against her pussy through her pants. “This is what I want. Let me touch you there.”

Caroline, who had been caught in the moment, gently pulled at his hair. He looked up at her. Maybe he’d moved too fast. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” she whispered.

That wasn’t the whole story but he could slow down. Give her time to feel comfortable enough to tell him what she was feeling. He kissed the scar on her stomach and moved his hands to her thighs.

“Jack?”

He stopped. “Yes?”

“I think I’d feel more comfortable doing this after I clean myself up a little.”

Oh. He got the message. He’d taken the world’s fastest shower that morning and she’d gotten nothing. But he could definitely make it up to her. He gave her a mischievous look. “How about a bath?”

*              *              *              *              *

Caroline stood by the bathtub and started to unbutton her pants. She wasn’t nearly as concerned about Jack seeing her naked anymore. Below the waist was safe, relatively speaking. It was the only area that didn’t have significant damage, aside from the small scar from the bullet that had grazed her leg. 

Jack grabbed her hands. “I get to do that. I’ve waited too long for this. As long as you’re okay with it,” he added.

A protective, almost doting veneration in his voice. He cared. He wanted to do everything right. To make sure she was comfortable. “Half my clothes are on the bedroom floor anyway,” she said.

“I want the rest of them off.” He proceeded to undress her, pulling her toward him for a deep kiss. “So fucking beautiful.”

“I thought you were going to give me a bath.” Caroline tried not to laugh as he nipped at her neck. “I feel filthy.”