Chapter 496 Sorry, is it very scary?
Winona was just outside and didn't catch any other sounds. The person pushing the door was probably her. Realizing this, Zachary felt his tense body instantly relax.
In the quiet bathroom, the only sound was water trickling down. As the door opened wider, the sound of water mixed with Zachary's rapid heartbeat, growing more intense.
Zachary's Adam's apple bobbed as he called out, "Winona..."
He had turned the water to hot, but the bathroom was still as cold as an icebox. As soon as Winona walked in, she shivered from the cold steam that hit her. Dreamopolis in November was already freezing, and it had gotten even colder in the past few days. Winona said, "Zachary, if you can handle the cold like this, why not just take cold showers from now on? You'd save a good bit of money."
Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Zachary responded, "I'm using hot water."
He looked utterly sincere, showing no signs of lying.
In that brief moment, the water had already turned hot, and the mist gradually blurred his handsome face.
Winona's gaze fell on Zachary. Even with the water and mist obscuring him, the scars were still very noticeable. She had only seen parts of them before, but now she saw the full extent. Even though she had already felt heartache and shock before, seeing all his scars now made a fine, dense pain spread from her chest to every part of her body.
Seeing her staring at his scars, Zachary silently turned off the water and pulled a bathrobe from the towel rack, putting it on. He said, "Sorry, is it very scary?"
The bathrobe was a woman's, so it was a bit small on Zachary, with his hands and legs sticking out. But it was loose enough that, aside from the length, it fit well.
As Zachary was fastening his belt, a warm, soft hand—light and delicate—wrapped around his, bringing all his movements to a stop.
Winona looked at him, her fingers interlacing with his, palm to palm. She replied, "No, it didn't scare me."
The bathrobe's belt wasn't tied properly, and the front was open, revealing his slightly damp chest. Winona's other hand gently traced the scars upward. "Did it hurt at the time?" she asked.
Yes, it did.
In a dark, sunless basement, the air was always filled with the smell of blood. A madman would come to Zachary every day, asking, "Does it hurt? Do you want to die? Do you want to escape?" Zachary was hypnotized periodically. He didn't know where he was, and he had no weapons or even hard objects to defend himself. Facing the steel bars and iron doors, he was utterly helpless.
He had to endure endless physical torture while trying to distinguish real memories from fabricated ones. In such a hopeless and torturous situation, the despair was far more unbearable than the physical pain.
Zachary had once considered playing the victim in front of Winona to elicit her sympathy, but now, hearing her strained voice made those thoughts fade away. He responded, "No, it didn't hurt. These scars are from when the ship caught fire. It was an emergency, and I didn't feel any pain at the time."
Winona glared at him.
Liar.If the scars were from the fire, they should be burns. But with so many scars, how could they all be from that time?
However, since Zachary didn't intend to say more, Winona didn't press further. Some things were better left unsaid. "We were all nearby at the time. How did he take you away?" Winona asked.
"I don't know. He drugged the ship. I was unconscious, but I can make an educated guess. He couldn't escape by water, so he must have gone underwater," Zachary replied tersely, seeming reluctant to delve into the topic. Seizing the moment while Winona was lost in thought, he intertwined their fingers and gently pulled her hand behind her back, drawing her closer into his arms. "I was in the shower. What made you come in?"
Winona raised an eyebrow, her reddened eyes curving. "To see if you froze to death," she replied.
Zachary pressed her against the damp wall, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Didn't you come in because you felt sorry for me and wanted to help?"
"No, I..." Before Winona could respond, Zachary cupped her chin and kissed her. His breath was warm against her skin, and his kiss was nearly fervent.
Zachary guided her hand to his abdomen.
He then pulled down her delicate camisole with his other hand, his breaths growing more urgent against her skin. "Winona, come on."
Winona's hand was sore, and she wanted to stop countless times. But seeing his scars, she couldn't bear to. She said, "Can you hurry up?"
"Yes." Zachary only agreed verbally but didn't stop. Even when Winona couldn't take it anymore and let go, he would pull her hand back, sweet-talking her into continuing.
He pressed against her, his chest heaving, his Adam's apple occasionally brushing against her forehead.
In the bathroom, the cold air turned scorching. Winona's back was against the cold tiles, her front against his chest. She panted, her cheeks flushed, her once-clear eyes now covered with a thin, confused mist.
It was hard to say how much time had passed before the commotion finally quieted down. Zachary's kisses pressed against her cheek in a flurry.
He turned on the faucet, washing them both clean. He then used a towel to dry Winona carefully before carrying her out of the bathroom.
As soon as he laid her down on the soft bed, Winona turned away from him, curling up under the covers. With no clothes on, her back was left exposed. The bed felt a bit chilly, but she was too weak to pull the covers up and didn't really care.
Zachary said, "Winona, get up and dry your hair before you sleep."
No response.
Zachary chuckled, pulled the covers over Winona, and then found a hairdryer to dry her hair.
His fingers gently massaged her scalp, bringing a comforting sensation. Winona was already weary, and the warm air quickly lulled her into a peaceful sleep.
After drying her hair, Zachary found some pajamas and underwear for her. The room was air-conditioned, and by the time he finished, he was completely dry.
There was a knock on the door. Without changing, Zachary wrapped himself in the bathrobe and went to open it.
He looked through the peephole and saw it was the delivery person, holding the condoms he had ordered. Glancing back at the sleeping Winona, he couldn't help but smile wryly.
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