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But after being up all day watching over her and all night making sure she didn’t have any adverse reactions to the sedative I used against her, around one am, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I walked away and struggled to get myself to sleep knowing that she was just down the hall. It tore me up, my lion was unable to settle, both of us wanting to keep the she-devil in our sights.
But now? Having her laying here in my arms, taking comfort from me after crying? It’s perfect.
It’s wrong.
My eyes fly open, and I look down at the brunette, and my jaw clenches. I wish my brain would shut off. I wish it would pick a side, stick with it, and stop trying to confuse me.
Even my lion is not on my side. He’s obsessed with the woman in my arms, and I don’t know why. Is it because she’s the first shifter we’ve met since Lainey passed?
Is it because she’s a wolf, the very creature Lainey always wished she were?
Maybe it’s her bond with Atticus, and in a way, it’s bringing me closer to the brother I once adored.
I don’t fucking know. I don’t fucking care.
But that’s a lie.
I do care. I care so fucking deeply, wanting to understand.
She tried to kill me earlier, and, once again, she’s somehow manipulated me into providing her with comfort as if she deserves it. As if I’m not lying here bleeding from a stomach wound.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had worse. She’s not the most capable. She failed in her goal of murdering me. The stab wound will be healing itself as we speak, but that’s not the point.
The point is she tried to hurt me, and now I’m the one offering her warmth.
She doesn’t deserve it.
She doesn’t deserve my love.
But then I picture her panicked face when my eyes flew open, the knife that she was wielding only came out in defence. That’s stupid, considering she was the threat, but I managed to scare her.
I don’t think she meant to hurt me.
It’s quite amusing to think about. Her mind interests me.
I noticed the knife was missing earlier, and, honestly, I just wanted to let it play out and see what she was going to do. She’s a tiny little thing, and her spirit goes back and forth between strong and cowardly.
But she’s weak.
Not as weak as me, though.
I cuddle her in and start humming under my breath, wanting to offer her some comfort. She’s rolled a little, and I can see her face with my enhanced senses.
Her eyes are all puffy, with a redness that makes me cringe. She’s still sniffling in her sleep, her body needing time to adjust to the fact that she’s not in danger any more. That there’s no need to be upset. Her body is fighting off her exhaustion, her pain.
This isn’t fair to her. I know that. It’s not fair to me, either.
But I didn’t have a choice when it came to taking her. She made me. She lured me in with her siren call and continues to manipulate me into caring for her.
I’ll figure out a plan. I always do.
But, for now, I need to get some fucking sleep.
I’m wrecked, and it’s taking my body longer to heal. I like the pain, though. It drives me and keeps me focused.
Hopefully it’ll scar, and I’ll always remember to keep her at arms length.
