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“I don’t think she’s too happy with you, at the moment,” Cohen says as the four boys who’ve broken my heart over and over come to a stop.
“Move,” Gideon demands.
Both my Kitsune and my witch shake their heads. “Not a chance. Not until she tells us to,” Kohaku growls, his six tails whipping behind him.
I can feel four sets of eyes on me, sweeping over my body and taking in the damage to my skin, the way I’m swaying in exhaustion, the hand clamped over my mouth. I’m pretty sure I’m mumbling against my palm, but it’s not something I can help.
“Ro,” Ezra says gently, carefully. “Let’s get you inside at least, so you can sit down.”
Sitting down sounds really fucking nice. My whole body aches. I give a jerky nod, removing my hand from my lips just long enough to say, “okay, but don’t touch me,” before my fingers clamp again.
Kohaku turns and sweeps me into his arms in a fluid move, and before I’ve fully even processed what’s happening, we’re already inside and he’s settling on the couch with me on his lap.
He nuzzles into my hair, my neck, taking huge breaths of my scent and making shivers erupt all over my body. “I’m going to have to return to your skin soon, little warrior. I need to recharge somewhat.”
My hand drops from my lips so I can clutch at him with both arms. I don’t want him to go. He’s one half of what’s making me feel safe at the moment.
Someone grumbles something behind me, but I ignore them in favor of hugging Kohaku harder. His large, warm hands smooth up and down my spine. He pulls back and his orange eyes are so freaking soft and warm and reassuring. “I will be right here with you. It will only be for a short time, and then I can return, yes?”
I swallow and nod. “Okay. Even though I hate that idea.” Cohen drops onto the couch next to me and opens his arms in invitation. Kohaku brushes a kiss over my cheekbone, careful to not create any sort of pain, and then he transfers me over to Cohen’s lap.
“I’ll be back soon,” he reassures me, as he turns into vapor and sinks into my skin. I feel him settle around my ribs, his foxy nose resting between my breasts, his tails wrapped around my back.
I want to call him back right now, because I think I’m about to feel emotional pain—like super intense emotional pain—and I could really use his support right now. Cohen’s arms tighten around me, and his lips find the skin behind my ear, where he murmurs softly, “I have you, wildcard. I got you. No matter what comes, remember that.”
Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn to look at the four men who continue to hurt me.
All of them flinch as I do and I realize I must have said that out loud. Stupid truth potion.
“Truth potion?” Fielder asks, blond brows high on his forehead. “They gave you a truth potion?”
I motion at my face, where I can feel the bruising and swelling. “Not at first. They thought they’d get me to confess all my sins using pain. But when they didn’t like any of my answers, they gave me something that makes me speak my thoughts without realizing it.”
Fielder licks his lips, and I can tell I’m going to hate the next words out of his mouth. “Do you know… Do you know what you told them? Did you tell them about us? About the coven?”
Yep. I hate that.
“Fielder!” Hardin snarls. “That’s not bloody important right now.” He looks at me, his hands twitching at his sides, like he’s trying damn hard not to touch me. “Iamtrying bloody hard not to touch you, but you asked us not to, so I won’t do it. What do you need, love?”
I shake my head. “Apparently nothing from you.” His face falls and guilt stabs through me. I punch it down and smother it, because that feeling has no place here. None. I was tied up and beaten. My life was in danger and they didn’t come.
I can’t have this conversation while they’re standing and I’m sitting, so I ignore the protesting of my muscles and push to my feet, taking a few steps away from Cohen. He’s here to support me, but for right now, this part of the conversation I want to have standing on my own two feet.
“So fucking strong, wildcard,” Cohen murmurs, pride clear in his voice.
I face them, all four of them, and cross my arms over my chest. They all have varying degrees of guilt on their faces. But feeling guilty now doesn’t change shit.
They flinch at my thoughts, so I must still be speaking my thoughts out loud.
“Let us explain, sweetheart,” Gideon pleads, hands clenched at his sides.
I shake my head. “I don’t see how you can explain this away, Brightwater. But sure, go ahead and try.”
Fielder moves until he’s standing in front of me. His moss green eyes run over my face, bouncing from injury to injury before he settles on my gaze. He meets it unflinching and unrepentant.
He doesn’t feel guilty at all. Given the same choice, knowing that I would return to them beaten and bleeding, he would make the same goddamn choice.
“Rosalind,” Ezra starts like he’s going to deny what I’ve undoubtedly just said, but I cut him off.
