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“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the man yelled. He stood up, wiping his clothes down. “You’re a clumsy fuck! I hope you know you’re paying for this.”
Micha was trembling as memories flashed before his eyes and the man raised his fist.
“Hey, do you fucking hear me?” the man shouted. He grabbed Micha’s arm with a bruising grip. No doubt he’d leave evidence that Micha would have to scrub raw until he felt somewhat clean.
Micha tried to talk, but it was no use; his tongue was glued down.
The man shook him, and Micha shut his eyes. A whimper broke free, and he could hear the sneer and anger in the man’s voice.
“Oh now you want to cry. I’m the one with a ruined six hundred dollar shirt. Give me back my money.”
Micha felt as if he was being dragged underwater, and breathing was becoming impossible. The bruising grip around his arm let go, and Micha dropped down instantly and shielded himself.
There was a loud commotion and Micha crouched in on himself even more. Every part of his body trembled as ice-cold fear sank its claws into him. Flesh colliding with flesh followed by cries of pain echoed around him, dragging him back to the past, kicking and screaming. The metallic scent of blood tinged the air, and a scream bubbled up out of Micha scraping against his throat.
Once it broke free, it was as if it opened the dam, and he could no longer hold back. Tears made hot streaks down his face ruining his makeup, and his chest ached with the ragged breaths he dragged in, only to release them in a blood-curdling scream.
The commotion that happened around him sounded so far away, although he knew it was right next to him. The smells and sense of danger were all too real for it to be anything but reality.
His wings were forced open, and a hulking form stood over him, blurry from his tears. Before another scream could come out of him, Micha was picked up, his head gently cradled in the crook of a neck. He trembled in the man’s hold as a muscular arm held him up. He needed to find a corner and make himself as small as possible.
Muffled conversations happened around him, but his brain couldn’t be bothered with processing the audio; it was too busy in the nightmare that was his past. It felt as if they were moving, but Micha didn’t know.
“Hush birdie, you’re safe.”
Arden.Micha pressed his face firmly against Arden’s throat. He took in a breath, and finally, Arden’s scent penetrated the fog. He wrapped his arms around Arden’s neck and clung to him.
“I’m sorry.” His broken apology came out on a whisper.
“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Arden said.
But it was Micha who had messed up with a client. He’d ruined Arden’s business.
“Stop all that crying.”
But there was no stopping them once they started. “I’m sorry, Arden. I’ll do better. I’m sorry.”
Arden’s fingers threaded through his hair and tugged his head back. Micha blinked as more tears rolled down his cheeks.
“What did I say?”
Micha bit his bottom lip. They were no longer in the longe, but it didn’t matter; everything around him was a blur except Arden.
“Say it, boy,” Arden demanded.
Micha sucked in a breath. “That… I have nothing to be sorry for.”
Arden’s fingers loosened up, and he massaged the tender area of his scalp. Micha leaned into the touch, unable to look away from Arden’s face.
“Good boy, now stop crying. It has been taken care of.” He pulled Micha’s face back into the crook of his neck.
Micha closed his eyes; safety was a luxury. One that Arden’s arms gifted him. Someone whose hands were covered in blood shouldn’t have made Micha feel so safe.
Arden carriedMicha close to his chest as he moved up the stairs. Blood dripped from his fist, decorating the stairs behind him with every step. He could smell it in the air, the blood of the man that had hurt Micha and turned him into a screaming ball of terror and pain.
It wasn't enough.
Eldon had to pry him off of the man as he'd rained blows on his head and body. The vampire had only succeeded because he had whispered in his ear.Not here. Not where everyone can see. We'll take care of it.
