“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” he snaps out, like a slap across my face.
“N– no.” I somehow manage to stutter.
Apparently he isn’t willing to take my word for it because he squats in front of me and slowly unbuttons my cardigan.
Booksellers and therapists — what is it with the cardigans?
He eases the sweater off my shoulders and I know he doesn’t miss the wince when I move to help him because, somehow, the scowl on his face deepens even further.
I feel more than see his internal wince and look down.
Outlined on my arms, despite my tattoos, are two perfect imprints of that twatwaffle’s hands.
Flint promptly shoves himself up and paces around the room, which is now feeling smaller than ever, his fury taking up physical space. I can feel the anger radiating off of him and I can swear that his eyes are glowing with rage. I just can’t tell who he’s angry at — I’m choosing to hope Calida is wrong while knowing she isn’t — and, frankly, I’m rapidly feeling too tired to care. Fighting off the floaty feeling is getting to be too much. It feels like waves of heat are rolling through my body.
Flint abruptly comes to a halt and his body stiffens. Turning his attention back to me, I notice his eyes are indeed simmering with an inner fire, making the already impossible blue deeper, sharper. Predatory. He seems to come back to himself and shakes his head. He comes back to me, scooping me up and settling me on his lap. While the waves of heat seem to be backing off, being pressed against his body is making me warm in other ways. The heat of his body is soothing. He emits the feeling of safety with every breath. I can hear the steady thump of his heart from where my head is resting against his chest. He is softly petting my hair, both arms wrapped around me.
The calmness and feeling of being safe is making my eyes burn and my throat tight, while the horror of what could have happened, what almost did happen, hits like a freight train. Delayed reaction. “Oh shit,” I whisper. "Here it comes.”
He doesn’t need any further explanation. His arms tighten around me. “It’s okay, love. Let it go.”
He holds me close as I’m overcome, weeping out my terror, the feeling of helplessness, the anger. The storm of emotions breaks within me, wave after wave racking me. I bury my face against his chest and let it take me.
Flint is sitting next to me, my head on his hard thigh, his finger tips drawing patterns on the exposed skin of my back. The sun is warm on my skin. The air is heavy with the tang of salt, the sweetness of flowers. Birdsong surrounds us. I see that we’re in the clearing I’d imagined before; the one with the red willow trees. Twisting my head, I study Flint. He is reading a book with one hand while the other continues to pet up and down my back. He looks incredibly relaxed, beams of sunlight playing across his face. His hair is messy, as though someone has been running their fingers through it. His chest is bare, showing off the hard lines and planes of his chest, his abs. Although I can’t see from this angle, he definitely has the hip V that makes girls stupid. It’s my dream, after all. I wouldn’t dream of a Flint whodidn’thave that.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes a moment for me to realize that, although I can hear Flint, his lips aren’t moving. I’m watching his face and he is continuing to read his book. As though he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his eyes to me and a smile lights his face. The hand that was stroking my back, setting little fires up and down my spine, takesmine, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist. His eyes are playful as they meet mine. I can still hear him speaking, soothing me. I can feel his hand stroking my hair, which is impossible because I can see both of his. What the fuck?
I open my eyes and I’m still on Flint’s lap. My couch, my apartment. Calida is watching us from across the room. Flint’s shirt is damp under my cheek from the onslaught I unleashed on him. He’s murmuring words of comfort, running his fingers through my hair. I guess my evening of hallucinations isn’t over quite yet. Maybe trauma makes for imagination fuel?
Ash is weeping against my chest, the sobs ripping through her body. It was a hard won battle, but I’ve locked away the rage. At least, for the time being. After what I walked in on when I returned to the shop, the last thing she needs to face right now is another angry male. If I can just focus on taking care of her, we might both get through this without any further damage being done. Seeing the bruises that piece of shit left on her arms… I back away from that thought. Not the time.
I continue to whisper to her, holding her against me.There’s nothing else to be done until this has passed. I can feel the heat of her tears soaking my shirt and strangle back another wave of fury. It won’t help. Not now.
Her sobs eventually taper off. I ease my hold on her and tip her head back to see her face. What’s left of her makeup is streaked down her face. Her eyes are red and puffy. She is so beautiful.
“Let’s get you changed and in bed, yeah?” I ask.
“I think I want a shower first,” she says, softly.
“Okay. Why don’t you go get in the shower and I’ll leave some clothes for you on the sink?”
She looks around, dully. “Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay?”
I shake my head and swallow, the hold on my own emotions becoming more and more tenuous by the second. “No one expects you to be okay right now, least of all me. You don’thaveto be okay. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything.”
I don’t bother waiting for her reply. While she’s gotten her initial crying jag out of the way, I don’t expect it will be the last and I think part of her is still in shock after the… ordeal. I also expect that she won’t want me to go far, but she also needs a moment alone. Deciding to decide for her, I scoop her up and carry her to the bathroom. I set her on the lip of the tub and start the water for her. I step out and return with what I’ve determined, after hours of observation, to be her favorite pajamas and a clean towel.
Depositing those on the sink, I turn to her to find her hugging herself as steam begins to fill the small space. “Do you need anything else?”
She shakes herhead.
Biting back an oath, I squat down so our faces are level. Her eyes are bruised, dull. “I’m going to go make you some tea. It’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”
When she nods in acknowledgement, I push to my feet and leave her alone.
I wonder, off-handedly, if she’d notice my absence if I left long enough to skin a certain human male after I break every bone in his body.
