No, telling that story didn’t magically erase my scars or the pain of those brutal memories. But the sour, red-hot shame I’ve been carrying around with them?
Tonight, I’m finally allowing myself to set it down.
The only ones who deserve to carry the shame of what happened to me are my attackers. I’m fucking done doing it for them.
And I have Jude and Augustine to thank for it. Because they listened to me as I cried, naked and afraid and trembling in that bed, and instead of making me feel weak or disgusting or helpless or downright ignored, they made me feel safe and cared for. Cherished.
Lust? That’s the easy part, and it came fast and furious with us.
But a genuine feeling of safety? Of trust? Of letting someone see the darkest parts of you and knowing they’ve still got your back?
That feeling isn’t something I take lightly.
It isn’t something I’ve ever even felt before.
“What are you thinking, witchling?” Auggie asks, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder. “You’re a million miles away.”
“No, I’m actually right here.” I smile, fresh tears mixing with the hot water streaming down my cheeks. “I was thinking how crazy it is that I’m standing here completely naked, surrounded by two men who could shatter every bone in my body before I even heard the first snap, and yet—”
“No.” Jude squeezes my hip. “Don’t even say it. Don’tthinkit. Put that right the fuck out of your mind, because Auggie and I would rather kill each other than cause you even a moment’s pain.”
“I’d kill him just for the fun of it,” Auggie says, “but the point remains.”
“Good thing you’re both immortal.” I laugh, then reach for them both, squeezing their hands. “I was just going to say… Even though I barely know you and you’re both these big, powerful beasts, I… I’ve never felt so safe in my life.”
Auggie cups my face. “You never have to be afraid of us, West. We willalwaysprotect you.”
Jude says nothing, as if my confession has momentarily stolen his words, but that’s okay. For now, we don’t need any more.
My two gargoyles huddle in close, arms and wings wrapping around me, cocooning me in their warm embrace until the water finally runs cold and the very last vestiges of that old shame swirl away down the drain.
Chapter Five
AUGUSTINE
After Jude changes the sheets, we tuck our little witchling into my bed, her damp hair curling into black and silver ringlets, skin fresh and pink from the shower, everything about her looking sweet and serene and utterly at peace.
Moonlight streams through the window and touches her bare shoulders, and part of me is itching to grab my camera. To capture her just like this, beautiful and content and safe.
But I can’t take her picture tonight. Because as much as I’m trying to keep up a brave face on the outside, here on the inside? My heart is fuckingshredded.
Looking at her now, it’s impossible to imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. To pluck so much as a single hair from her head, let alone torture her the way those fucking boys did. Just hearing her tell the story has me utterly fuckingsickover it; one look at Jude, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing behind the thin veneer of calm, and I know he feels the same way.
He set it aside earlier because he knew she needed him to be there for her. To hold her. To tell her it would be okay.
But now, all that rage is starting to bubble up again, seeping out through the cracks. His claws are itching to tear out throats, his fangs burning with the need to devour.
I know it, because I’m right there with him.
Normally, I try to keep him in check. Balance out his worst impulses and keep us out of trouble with the lawandwith Drae.
But now? Whatever his chosen methods of torture are on this one—however vicious and messy he wants things to get—I’m fuckingdown.
Those motherfuckers don’t deserve to exist in the same realm as Westlyn Avery, and we’re damn well going to make sure they don’t.
But first, we’re going to make sure theybleed.
“I can barely keep my eyes open,” West says softly, gazing up at me with a sleepy smile. “Two hot gargoyles can really wear a girl out. Who knew?”
