Every day I suffered more and more guilt. Guilt for living another life away from her. Guilt for finding small smidgens of happiness thanks to Fox. I felt like a traitor and a bitch.

Clara grew sicker despite the new pills I made her take every morning and the exorbitantly expensive trail drug in her inhaler.

Fox stalked toward me, wiping his face with a black towel, panting and sweaty from his session in the gym down the hall.

Not only did he drive his broken body to failure by endless fights and working long hours, he also worked out religiously every morning when he woke. Wearing the same black trousers and long sleeved shirt, he came back drenched in sweat.

“I’ll just have a shower, then we’ll head out. We haven’t left Obsidian since we met, and I need to run a few errands. I’d like you to come.”

Not waiting for my reply, he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. I waited for the shower to turn on, imagining Fox naked and wet.

My tummy fluttered with the thought. Pushing Clara from my mind, compartmentalizing my two lives, I scampered off the bed and tiptoed toward the bathroom.

What if he catches you?

With my heart in my throat, I turned the handle. I expected it not to turn—after all, Fox was so private I figured he would’ve locked it—but it unlatched.

I stopped breathing as I cracked open the door and peered inside.

Fox stood trembling and tense in the centre of the shower while hot water hissed and fizzled on his skin. He stood side profile, hiding his back and chest—the two areas I most wanted to see. With one hand, he held a razor and pressed the blade hard against his inner thigh.

His eyebrows drew together, knitting tightly as a small trickle of blood erupted from the wound and sluiced down his leg with boiling water.

I wanted to run in and stop him, but he cut himself again—one more perfect line. Tossing the razor to the side, he switched the water from scalding to freezing and tension siphoned from his muscles down the drain.

Resting his forehead against black tiles, he groaned with every sadness and fucked-up emotion inside.

I couldn’t watch any longer.

Closing the door, I drifted back to the bed in a daze. I felt as if he’d dragged the blade down my heart instead of his leg.

You’re so stupid, Zel. You thought you’d broken through. You thought he was on the road to recovery.

I was idiotic to hope he wouldn’t self-harm anymore. I’d searched for evidence, but saw none. Now, I knew why.

His inner thighs had an array of marks and cuts, decorating his already scarred legs. He’d even taken out the stitches on his thigh and calf, causing the wounds to gape a little, not fully healed.

Fuck.

I rubbed the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to dispel the aching agony. I hated seeing someone in pain. I hated not being able to help.

There was no helping someone with a mind so scrambled like Fox’s.

The shower switched off and a few minutes later, Fox strode into the room dressed in his usual wardrobe of black.

His eyes narrowed, running hands over his wet hair. The strands of colour captured sunlight, looking bronze, cinnamon, black, and gold. The Sydney sun bounced through the large windows, turning the black interior into a sun-soaked paradise.

“What the fuck, Zel? You look like you just witnessed a murder.” Scowling, he headed to his wardrobe and came back with a black blazer.

I blinked, forcing the unhappiness away. “Nothing. Just a sad program on television.”

He dropped his arms, the blazer dangling by his side. “Don’t you dare lie.” His eyes flashed white, looking around the room, searching for some hint at what switched my mood. “Tell me. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s what you did!” Shit.

He prowled forward, then stopped, keeping a careful distance. The air around him crackled as the calmness he’d reached from inflicting harm in the shower disintegrated.

My skin quivered with need; my core throbbed—stupidly turned on by his anger.

For a moment all we did was stare, then knowledge exploded in Fox’s gaze. “You watched.” He threw the blazer across the room. “You fucking watched!”

My muscles locked down in fear before rupturing with adrenaline. I flew off the bed, keeping it between us.

His eyes never left mine, hands curling in rage. “What did you want to see, dobycha?” He inched closer to the bed. “Perhaps you’re looking for the mark? Maybe you’ve figured out who I am after all.” Sneering, he added, “You’re too fucking intelligent not to have guessed by now what I am.”

I didn’t have a clue what he was, but once again, I knew I had to push him. I had to shove him so far past his comfort zone I broke another small part of him—all in the name of making him whole again.

Reaching for the hem of my grey t-shirt, I yanked it over my head, standing tall in my jean-shorts and bra.

Fox slammed to a halt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

My hands trembled as I pulled the small knife from my pocket and tossed it onto the mattress, keeping it in easy reach. My heart roared in my ears as Fox rolled his well-formed shoulders, eyes locking onto my exposed flesh.

The sun bounced off my chain, glittering a silver path from collar to waist. “I’m done dancing around you like you’re a precious piece of china. What good is it to be bought for sex if you never deliver?” My voice filled with breathy trepidation as well as billowing lust. “You taunt me by never touching. You make me wet by never coming close. You self-harm instead of turning to others. You’re dying inside when I’m trying to help you live.”

Planting hands on my hips, I snarled, “You always think of yourself and never about me.”

His mouth hung open as his eyes narrowed to silver slits. “I take it back—you’re not intelligent, you’re fucking suicidal. Don’t push me again, Zel. Remember what happened last time?” He took an angry step toward me, closing the distance between us. He fisted his hands. “You know why I can’t touch you! Stop fucking pushing me.”

“No, I don’t! All you’ve told me is nothing. Secrecy on top of hidden agendas on top of a multitude of half-truths. Why can’t you touch me, Fox? Who made you like this? Who stole every basic right from you?” My shaking fingers went behind my back, pinging the clasp on my bra. I moaned as the material whispered off, kissing my nipples on its fall to the floor. I’d never felt so exposed or empowered. Stripping for a man who didn’t even want me. Who couldn’t come within a metre of me without locking his jaw and inching into murderous rage.

“Do you want to die? Is that what you’re trying to achieve here?” Fox growled. His hand dropped to cup between his legs. “You want this so damn much you’d be willing to die for it?”

“No, I’m not willing to die for you. I thought I proved that before.” My eyes shifted to where I’d stabbed him. “I’ll never forgive you for hurting me. I’ll never forget the madness living inside you. I will gladly kill you if you ever try to end me, but I need human connection, Fox. And you’re not giving it to me. You need to get over your issues. Forget your past, so you can touch me. Make love to me.”

It was too infuriating spending so much time with someone who I desperately wanted to help. Any minor progress we made was swallowed back into his deep-seated problems. For someone like me who existed to save others it was persecution, and I refused to be a martyr anymore.

Fox snorted. “Make love. I don’t even know the meaning of it. How can I do something I’ll never understand?”

I’ll make you understand.

My eyes flew open. Somehow my need to help him became tangled with the desire to make him fall for me. To keep him, so I could always be there to bring him back from the dark.

It didn’t matter that I’d be shackling myself with more problems than support—or that I never wanted him near Clara. It was a stupid fantasy.

It didn’t stop my skin burning for his mouth or my pussy growing wet for his cock. I wanted. I wanted. I wanted.

Yet he never came near me.

Angry tears glossed my eyes. “If you can’t give me what I need, then this deal is done. I told you I agreed to your terms not just for the money, but because I wanted you. Well, try wanting someone who can never give anything in return.”

My fingers dropped from pebbled nipples to my button and zipper. Undoing my shorts, I pushed them down in angry jerks—nothing sensual or alluring. I was fucking angry, and I needed to get rid of the insane need in my blood.

Fox made a tortured noise in the back of his throat. “Stop it. I’m not safe. Put your clothes back on and give me time to get my shit together.”

I should’ve heeded his warning. I knew how dangerous he was. But it didn’t stop me. I snapped, “I want to see you naked. I want to run my hands all over you. I want to lick your chest and trail kisses down your stomach. I want—”

Fox froze. His entire body locked down. “If you think you can touch me like you did when you stitched my leg, forget it. I was in pain—that same pain helped distract me while you stupidly touched and provoked me.”

“Provoked? You call sucking you until you exploded down my throat, provoked?” My body flushed with heat. “You wanted me to touch you. You craved my tongue and the warmth I could offer your frozen soul. You let me own you in that moment, Fox.”

“I was fucking weak and stupid.” Dashing a hand over his face, he growled, “You were lucky I had enough control to obey. But I’m done obeying anyone. I want to obey myself. I don’t want you to tell me what to do.” He punched himself in the chest. “No more, you hear me! No more fucking orders. I’m out.”