Sapphire Scars (The Jewelry Box #3) Read Online Pepper Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Jewelry Box Series by Pepper Winters
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Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
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As cold water became hot and the bliss of cleanliness helped soothe my jagged pieces, I never took my gaze off Henri.

The more seconds that ticked past, the more he shook.

The entire bathroom filled with his pain.

By the time I finished and wrapped myself in a towel, he crashed past me fully clothed and stood beneath burning water.

Holding his face to the gushing shower, he tore off his sodden shirt, unzipped his drenched pants, and coated every inch of his body in soap.

And then, he scrubbed.

And scrubbed.

His fingernails left tracks over his skin, welts and lashes as if he could scratch out the horrors inside him.

He pumped his Viagra-forced erection as if he could delete all traces of tonight.

He washed every inch.

Again and again.

Crazed and jerky.

Backing away, I hugged my towel as his motions turned manic. Desperate.

Closer and closer to that edge.

Nearer and nearer to the end.

Until finally, with a gasp and a grunt, he fell to his knees…

…and broke.

Chapter Twenty-Four

………………………….

Henri

HER EYES.

Her stare.

Empty.

Vacant.

Gone.

I’d done that.

I killed her.

The agonising wrongness of being inside another woman.

The guttering despair of another man inside her.

The godawful horror of being hard against my will.

Even now.

Hard and heartbroken and fuck!

My mind didn’t just break. It demolished.

I kneeled in the burning shower and begged the water to wash away every sin. Every failure.

I killed her.

The floppy way she’d hung in my arms when I’d first grabbed her from the floor.

The loss of her fight, her soul, her heart.

My eyes stung.

My lungs ached.

Every piece of me trembled and tangled until I wasn’t a man but a mess of vibrating molecules ready to shatter in every direction.

Glowering at the scar on my leg, I scratched at it.

I needed to finish the job.

She was dead.

I killed her.

I’d brought her here and subjected her to these horrors.

There was nothing left for me now.

Nothing.

The stinging in my eyes grew worse.

The aching in my chest crushing, crushing—

Blood pooled in my mouth as I bit my bottom lip, doing my best to trap the screams inside me.

I scratched harder.

I-I killed her.

I—

Hands on mine.

Gentle and so, so kind.

I paused my scratching, scrubbing.

I looked up.

Into golden beautiful eyes.

Alive eyes.

No longer vacant or dead.

And every part of me cracked.

I’m sorry.

So sorry.

“Henri…”

Her voice.

Christ, her voice.

I swayed toward her.

I crashed against her.

Her arms wrapped around me and held tight.

The stinging in my eyes became caustic.

The searing in my lungs so vicious.

I wanted to tell her so many things. All of it. Everything. But I couldn’t because the devil wrapped his hand around my throat and strangled.

I gasped.

I can’t breathe.

My heart bucked.

I can’t breathe!

Pushing the angel away from me, I crawled out of the shower.

My bones jangled.

My blood jumped.

Nausea tore through me, and I needed—

I’m going to—

With a lurch, I reached the toilet, flipped up the lid, and purged.

A lifetime of horrors. Of memories. Of imprinting.

Every moment my father made me hit a woman. Every drop of blood he’d forced me to drink. Every tear, every scream, every cry.

My ribs bellowed.

My head pounded.

A soft hand landed between my drenched shoulder blades.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay.”

The stinging behind my eyes became daggers.

My ribs broke one by one as pressure swelled bigger, blacker—

Slamming the lid down on my shame, I fumbled with the flush, then landed in a painful, naked heap on top of the toilet.

Icy shivers merged with my shakes.

I was hot and cold, grieving and guilt-ridden.

Golden eyes looked up at me where she rested between my legs. Her fragile hands landed on my knees.

My kneecaps jittered and jumped.

I couldn’t stay still.

Too much.

Too hard.

Too painful.

My legs danced up and down on their own accord as every emotion I couldn’t shed bled out the only way it could.

She shuffled closer, stroked her hands higher until they landed on my quaking thighs.

She.

Her.

Ily.

I.L.Y.

I love you.

I do.

God, I do.

I love you.

I’m sorry.

So, so fucking sorry.

Grabbing her cheeks, I pressed my forehead to hers.

The stinging in my eyes grew worse. So, so much worse.

I choked.

I gagged.

With her so close, so alive, so pure, I couldn’t fight it anymore.

A sob broke free.

Followed by a single tear.

She cooed under her breath and rose on her knees. “Ah, Hen…”

Hen…

My arms lashed around her, dragging her from the floor and onto my lap.

The moment her weight landed on me.

The second her heat sank into me.

It was over.

An ocean of tears poured free.

A torrent of them.

A river of them.

Shame and disgrace, self-disgust and remorse.

I painted her in wetness as I nuzzled into her neck and let go.

The noises I made.

The sobs I couldn’t hold back.

I was that little boy again.

The boy who could never cry because he had sisters and brothers to protect. Lies to say and horrors to forget.

A lifetime of misery chose that moment to destroy me.

I couldn’t catch my breath.

Couldn’t stay alive.

I’d hurt so many.

So, so many.

I hurt her.

So, so badly.

Crushing her to me, I wept into her perfect skin and laid every rotten piece at her feet.


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