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Hands and lips grazing over my body, branding me with their vile touches. Suffocating under the weight of bodies writhing over and inside of me. The burning of slashes from blades and leather slicing through my flesh. Hot rancid breath and words ghosting over my ear as they whispered their putrid words and desires.
Another twist of my stomach causes a shiver of revulsion to quake its way through my body, and I lurch forward. Darting off Kain, I tear through his hold and stumble my way quickly to the half bath on the first floor, just in time to drop to my knees and lose the contents of my stomach. The chocolate milkshake I had gotten earlier in the day while out hiding with Edward had tasted like heaven going down, now though, it tastes of spoiled milk and burns like acid on my throat and tongue.
Gentle hands gather my long blonde hair, holding it at the nape of my neck as I continue to heave every ounce of disgust, anger, and shame into the porcelain goddess. When the tremors in my stomach finally stop, I drop back to sit on my heels, my head resting on my folded arms on the side of the toilet as I breathe, trying to control my thoughts and feelings.
A firm palm comes to rest between my shoulder blades for a moment before it slides down my spine and back up again. A sigh escapes me at the firm but soothing touch, slowly easing the tension from my body and mind.
A lifetime passes, or so it feels like it, and the hand in my hair lets go in favor of wrapping two strong tattoo-covered arms around me and turning me to sit across Kain’s lap. He hands me a glass of water, and I take a small sip.
“Thank you,” I rasp, my voice sore and feeling as though I’ve just swallowed shards of glass.
“Just relax here for a little. Lucifer will explain to Daemon how you ended up at Donovan’s. You don’t need to relive that.” He wraps an arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I don’t fight the gesture, or tense. Instead, I sink into his warmth, needing it to chase away the chill that’s invaded my bones from the flood of memories.
“I’m going to have to relive the worst of it though, aren’t I?” I ask, knowing they can’t share what they don’t yet know. The parts I haven’t shared with anyone, not even Edward.
“Only if you’re ready and want to share it.”
I snuggle deeper into him, comforted by his words and the knowledge I don’t have to open up those wounds today. I’ve bled my truths enough for one day. They can share the rest of the story they know with their brother without me.
“Can I go lie down? You don’t need me in there for the rest of the retelling, do you?”
Kain smooths down my hair and places a kiss to the top of my head and whispers, “Of course, it’s been an eventful and emotional day. Come on, I’ll walk you.”
He helps me to my feet, and with an arm around my waist and a hand holding mine, he helps me to my room. As we walk through the foyer, low murmurs of the conversation taking place in the parlor echo off the marble.
“Angelica needs to go further into hiding. She needs a whole new identity complete with a history,” Daemon says, surprising me. “I could get something made up at the precinct, but that’ll take time, and it’ll raise some red flags. I won’t be able to hide her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Lucifer replies, his tone cold.
“Good.” Daemon’s one word response is followed by a long beat of silence before he softly says, “These men aren’t going to stop. The look of possessiveness in their eyes … I’ve seen it before, Lucifer. It’s the same look Sid had when he looked at Gemma. These men will kill her before they allow someone else to claim her. Add Donovan into the mix, and she’s in real danger.”
The worry in his tone causes me to freeze mid-step. My hand in Kain’s tightens and my breathing becomes rapid. I look up to Kain and ask, “Am I going to die?”
Kain whirls on me, gripping my shoulders in a tight hold, and bending so we’re eye to eye. “Not on my fucking watch. No one is going to lay so much as a fucking finger on you. As long as there’s breath in my lungs, I will fight to keep you safe.” He wraps his arms around me, picks me up, and carries me to my room.
He lays me in the middle of the large, oversized bed and pulls the covers up over my body, tucking them under my chin. Crawling up, he lies down beside me—on top of the covers—maintaining a comfortable barrier between us and respecting my need for space right now, for which I’m grateful
I smile at him and roll over on my side, facing him and tucking my hands under my cheek.
Kain tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and whispers, “Rest, Eden. You’re safe with us.”
A deep yawn draws out of me, and my eyes drift shut. “I know. I trust you, Kain,” I say sleepily as the darkness ebbs in closer, beckoning me into its embrace.
I walk into the station,the place that’s been my home for the past four years. The place that gave me a family when mine betrayed me. But now the place feels wrong, like it’s been invaded by a foreign spirit intent on bringing us down. I won’t allow it though; I’ll fight like hell to keep the corruption out of my house.
Ignorant to the hustle and bustle around me, my mind is wholly focused on the image of Eden—not Angelica—as she processed my questions about Donovan. Her face had gone from pale to deathly white. Fear filled her faraway gaze as though she was living memories over again inside her mind.
When she stood and ran off, my first instinct was to run after her. To comfort and protect this woman. But that wasn’t my place. God, how I’d felt like an ass asking her to relive some of the worst moments of her life. The idea of leaving her there in the care of my brothers gutted me. It was her words that whispered in from the foyer that left me frozen in place.
“Am I going to die?”
Not a fucking chance. This time, Donovan will be the one to end up in a body bag, along with anyone that dares stand between me and him. Law be damned. The law failed Gemma.I failed Gemma.But I won’t fail Eden. Even if, in the end, that makes me no better than the corrupt and I lose everything in the process.
A black gift box, no bigger than a shoebox with a blood red bow tied neatly on top sits in the center of my desk. Scrolled in perfect penmanship on a wooden tag, hanging from one loop of the bow, is a simple message.
To Detective Wright, with the fondest of memories.
Sinking dread fills me as I stare at the box. I really donotwant to know what’s inside here.
