Chapter 21 - Eyes On Fire

Kat

I sat on the tiled bench that's built into the shower enclosure far longer than I really needed to. After playing with that damn digital controller I found a steam setting and sat down in shock while enjoying it at the same time. Indulging in the privacy of the shower plus all the neat little settings and using the bath products, that I've missed but haven't wanted to spend precious points on, is all well and fine. But that's not what I'm really doing here, at least it's not all that I'm doing.

I'm stalling and I know it.

My main concern right now is trying to find a reason to give Eric regarding the medications he wants to give that will sound reasonable and not end up tipping him over the edge he seems to be teetering on. The problem I'm running into is there is no good reason for it. Part of it's being stubborn while the other part is my own messed up rationalization. Neither of those are going to go over well with any of those guys right now.

I sigh and shut off the water finally resolving that at least I'm going to stand firm on any pain killers. At least with that I know I have a valid reason and one that Eric will understand and even if he doesn't, he can be mad about it all he wants but I'm not willing to give in on this point.

With that addressed in my mind, I start to dry off and get dressed. I just don't do it as fast as I know I can. I take my time with every stage.

First putting up my hair in a secure braid then moving on to using the various products that Zach included along with the bath stuff. While I don't hesitate to use the moisturizers and lotions, I don't even contemplate using the small amount of makeup he seems to have added to the mix as well.

I sigh in pleasure as I smooth lotion over my skin in all the areas that have felt irritated the most by the other stuff I bought. The relief it brings drives out any guilt I might have felt about Zach going to the trouble of replacing all the things I've been stubbornly refusing to stop using.

Honeysuckle and citrus drift on the air as I move on to getting dressed. That part doesn't take me long at all to do. The clothes are just basic black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. They're no different than the standard pieces for a Dauntless informal uniform and aren't far from what I know I have already.

What has me blushing while getting dressed is the undergarments that they included. Even that is no different than something I already have, a sports bra and boy shorts. It isn't so much the clothes themselves but the thought of anyone besides myself picking out my underwear. Let alone Eric, Chase, and Zach.

Especially Eric.

By the time I'm as dressed as I can be before I have to call for Eric, I've sufficiently worked up a total body blush by imagining him picking out and touching my clothes. I stand and stare at my reflection in the mirror and wince at what I see.

I've never dwelt long on the fact that I haven't been allowed to have any kind of say about how I look or what I wear. I've never really wondered about myself and if I'm plain, pretty, ugly or anything of that nature. That's not to say that I haven't heard all kinds of descriptions yelled at me over the years, and none of them very good, I just learned to disregard them. It didn't matter to me if anyone thought I was attractive or not, I had much bigger things to worry about and that's all I've let myself think about.

Before the incident with the factionless, I was so young the only thing I cared about was running and playing, to be free to do that and everything else my sister and I longed to do. After the incident, it felt like the end of my childhood. After that, all I could, or allowed myself, to think about was becoming as strong as I could to protect those I loved and to make up for all I did wrong.

Even when Tobias had shown his supposed interest in me when I was in my early teens I hadn't given more than a passing thought to why he would have any in me. Honestly, I've always been convinced that had been more about him thinking he should be with me for some reason rather than actually wanting to be.

I let my hand fall from my face and where I had been gently probing the puffy mess of my eye and sigh tiredly when I think of Tobias. Because that just brings up more worries than I'm capable of juggling right now. I know I'm going to have to face the situation with him, as well as his secret relationship with my sister, soon. Just not now.

My biggest worry right now is the young woman in the mirror and the only man I've ever wanted to notice me and see me. There must be something here in me if he's going to the trouble he has for me. I don't think it will ever be what I want him to see or feel. Not when I look at my reflection and know that I can never measure up to the women I'm sure he could have in a second if he wanted to.

Maybe there's something to the whole Abnegation shunning of mirrors because never have I been as self-conscious as I am now that I have such unrestricted access to one. Where even now, two weeks later, I can't help looking into one and immediately finding everything wrong about myself.

Especially when most of the time there is someone standing beside me to compare myself to, which is usually my sister. Then again, I always compare myself to her in most ways.

My hair is a lighter shade of blonde than hers. It darkens a bit if I'm out of the sun for long periods of time, but not by much. I've always considered it to be kind of dull and flat compared to hers with its mixes of blonde, brown and a tiny bit of red in certain lights. They are all mixed together in a way that can be really stunning when she leaves it down. Mine is more blonde with very little other colors, but the more I'm in the sun, the more it looks like dried out bleached wheat. I've always been envious of her shimmering locks.

We have the same general shape to our faces, enough that when combined with our close age and physical stature, people often confuse us for being twins. But it's those differences that stand out so much to me.

My nose is slightly shorter and turned up at the end, making it look cute rather than the strong one she has that looks like it would be at home on any Grecian statue.

My mouth has a bow shape with annoyingly pouty lips that make me look like I'm always throwing a tantrum of some kind.

My eyes are a little too big making my overall appearance even more childlike.

Combine all that with my short and petite frame, I could be mistaken for a pre-teen boy if I didn't wear clothes that show off the few feminine features I do have, my hips and ass. That I have plenty of. It's what Lynn likes to jokingly refer to as the junk in my trunk. Whatever you call it, it's still not enough by half to compete with the women I saw eyeing Eric that first night in the Pit.

Those are women with a capital W. With their figures encased in skin-tight clothing of varying lengths and coverage, ample cleavage, perfectly groomed and made up. All that on top of knowing exactly how to tempt and seduce in ways that I don't have the first clue about.

I shake my head when I have ridiculous flashes, imaging me made up and dressed like one of them and making a complete fool of myself. Pointing out to me that even if I knew how to do any of that I would still fall far from measuring up.

I look away from the mirror in disgust, finally finished with my reflections, and looking at my sad reflection. I force myself to turn and finish dressing until I have everything on but the shirt. I open the door and take a breath before I call out Eric's name then immediately wish I had taken just a few seconds more when nerves hit me full force.

I don't want him to see how ill at ease I'm feeling. Not after earlier. I want him to know I trust him completely. It's myself I don't trust but it's not like I can tell him that. Standing here shifting around nervously isn't going to exactly look like I trust him very much. I cast a look around and then decide it might be better to look as casual as I can.

I move over to the bathroom counter and shift until I can lift myself up onto it, wincing as my ribs take pressure it's not ready for and scooting back until I'm sitting, in what I hope is a casual manner. Hoping that I pull it off even if I'm in nothing but my sports bra, pants, and boots.

I laugh quietly at myself and shake my head then look at my hands when I hear his steps as he approaches after the door to his bedroom creaks open. My hands fidget together hoping to mask their shaking.

"Did you leave any hot wat…" Eric asks, laughing slightly as he came in the doorframe, but he stops in mid-sentence when he gets one step over the threshold.

I only know he's there and that he's stopped moving because I can see his feet from where my eyes were still glued to my hands. I refused to look up and even more now that whatever he's seeing is enough to freeze him in his tracks. I feel mild panic that I've done something wrong, and my brain races as it plays over his instructions. I know I followed them exactly so I'm not sure what's going on. I refuse to look up still but I can't stand just sitting here not knowing either.

"Did I leave any hot water?" I grasp at the playful question and decide to roll with it, hoping I can make my tone light as well. I shrug and smirk a little when I realize how truthful my answer is. "I might have left a tiny amount."

He clears his throat and steps forward. His boots thumping loudly on the tiled floor and the sound echoing back to us. I hear that thudding and hope that's really from his steps and not my heart. The sound of it is loud and fast in my ears, three beats for each pause between his steps. His intake of breath brings to my attention that my own is at least two times faster. Giving the illusion that he's barely breathing while I can't get enough.

One of his large, warm, and wonderfully calloused hands takes both of my clasped hands in his, while the other he raises until it slides gently along my jaw for the second time this morning. He tilts my head back so that our eyes finally meet as his thumb stroked my cheek softly.

There's danger in his eyes anytime I look at them. I never know what I'm going to find and how I'm going to react. Right now there is a clear worry in his eyes, along with something else that's not so clear. Whatever it is, it's just as intense as anything else he allows to broadcast. They seem to be darker right now as his brows lower more, casting shadows over them.

Eric's tugs his lower lip between his teeth quickly before releasing it and breath at the same time. "Are you okay, Kat?"

I nod and smile a little. "The shower helped, though I do still hurt a little."

The side of his mouth quirks up in a side smile as he shakes his head. "That's not what I was meaning…Kat." He pauses for the barest of seconds before he says my name, making me think he might have been about to say something else. The smile is gone and he frowns while holding my eyes. "Are you okay being here like this...with me?"

I swallow hard while thinking that I'm very much not okay being with him like this but not for any of the reasons he's worried about. At least I can answer that worry of his truthfully though.

"I said I trust you and I do, Eric," I answer softly with what I hope is a reassuring smile.

He sighs deeply. It might be one of relief. It might be of frustration. It might even be disappointment. They all sound so similar and the only thing that would let me know how he's feeling would be his expression or eyes, but those are back to being carefully guarded.

I feel like he's searching mine for something just as much as I am him until he breaks contact and they move over my face slowly. His expression slowly loses its blankness as a tightness I'm familiar with morphs it.

Despite the anger I can see and feel in him as he looks over my injuries, his touch is maddeningly gentle. It's so light and gentle that I struggle to keep my breathing normal while he moves his hands and eyes over me, evaluating the damage for himself for the first time. I close my eyes and will away the thoughts his touch is bringing to mind.

In my mind, Eric isn't looking at me with a methodical but otherwise passionless eye. In my mind, the soft brush of his fingers is anything but a clinical evaluation. My mind is in serious danger of making me make a complete ass of myself as I can barely contain the whimpers that his touch and those images are causing in me.

I keep my eyes closed tightly and scowl every time one of those soft whimpers escape me.

"Tell me if you want or need me to stop, Kat," Eric demands tightly.

A shiver that I can't stop completely escapes at the sound of him speaking in that deep and rough tone. I know it's caused by him trying to keep in the anger he's probably feeling after he comes to each bruise I have. I can't speak properly to reply, so I just gave a nod of my head instead.

"Answer me, Kat." This new demand has me holding my eyes closed even tighter.

A bolt of something strong rushes through me when his fingers graze over an area that seems to be sensitive in a way I could never have imagined it being. The deep rumble of his voice seems to connect straight to that sensation so that they combine and have what I know is desire pooling in me.

He can't know that his touch is creating a whirlpool of desire inside of me and if I don't answer soon, he's going to stop and I don't want that. As much as I should say something to make him stop, I just can't.

"Yes, I will, Eric. I'm okay though." I slightly gasp out the words while not once opening my eyes to see what his expression and eyes might hold. "Don't...I...please...I mean you don't have to stop."

I cringe and internally curse myself when I realize that all came out as me practically begging him not to stop. I even moaned a little when his hands started moving in ways and over areas I'm not prepared for.

What started out as the faint press of his fingertips along the ribs that were hurt as well as the other side, turned into the full length of his hand sliding over my skin. Near my hips, it slid against the bare skin there, a whisper of the heat from his skin against the goosebumped flesh of mine at the waist. Then his fingers made a slow, almost dancing, progression up until he was caressing each rib causing my head to fall back and the moan to escape.

I don't dare to open my eyes now as his hands stop completely. Tears burned behind my eyes making them feel like they are on fire right along with my body as I flush in embarrassment and shame.

I know any second he's going to jerk his hands away from me and step back to address the situation. I don't know how he's going to handle it but knowing how badly I've just messed up he might just say it's better that we have no contact if I can't keep my hormones in check.

That's what I expect to happen but it's not what he does. Instead of pulling away and getting far from me, he gets even closer. Stepping forward until I'm forced to open my legs a little to accommodate his body, my knees brushing his hips as he moves. His hands start moving again. Going from my sides to my arms, up until they travel across my shoulders then even further still as they go along the sides of my neck and only finally stopping when they are on either side of my face. There he stops and cups my head gently in his grasp.

"Kat, look at me," He orders me gruffly.

I want to refuse since I'm still horrified and ashamed at my reaction to him simply trying to take care of me. I almost refuse until I hear his breathing and how fast it is, how hard it's coming out and gusting against my skin.

My eyes pop open against every order I give them to remain closed so I can find out what could be causing Eric to be breathing like that. I almost wish I hadn't and that my body obeyed my order, not his because what I see just can't be real. It can't be real that his eyes are full of the same desire I have coursing through me.

I feel drugged as I drag my eyes away from his to search for anything else that might tell me what the hell is going on, only to see his lips tilted up at the edges in what could only be described as a smug manner.

Then his face starts moving closer to mine and any rational thought fled my mind except one thing. One thought and wish.

Please, oh please, let him be about to kiss me.