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“I could use a glass of water,” I mumble, trying to put on a brave face. “I’ll be a minute.”
Ciarán and Cathal exchange worried glances but let me go. I slip away to the kitchen, my heart racing as I stare at the gleaming countertop. The memories of pain, both physical and emotional, are too much to bear.
My hand trembles as I reach for a kitchen knife from the block on the counter, the cold steel unfamiliar in my grip. The memory of Ciarán marking me with his blade surges through my mind - the exquisite pain, the sense of control it gave him, the way he made my body his with those actions.
And now, I crave that same release, that same control.
With a deep breath, I slice my arm open over the sink, blood flowing freely as tears stream down my cheeks. The pain is a momentary distraction, a way to forget the darkness engulfing me.
“Summer!” Ciarán shouts, bursting into the kitchen, his face a mask of panic. Cathal follows closely behind, his eyes wide with alarm.
“What the fuck?” Ciarán roars, his fury directed at the source of my pain – Margaret. “That bitch pushed you to this?”
“Let me help,” Cathal says urgently, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my bleeding arm. His touch is gentle but firm, the pressure staunching the flow of blood.
“Summer, look at me,” Ciarán demands, his face inches from mine. My vision blurs as I force myself to meet his intense gaze. “You don’t need to hurt yourself. You’re not alone anymore. You are not the one who needs to feel the burn of the blade. That bitch! I’ll track her down, and I’ll rip her fucking insides out.”
Nodding as he crushes me to his chest, having no words because I can’t think now. I just want to drift into a space of nothingness.
Cathal says, “You’re safe now, Summerbell. You’re safe. We won’t let her hurt you ever again.”
Curling into Ciarán’s body, I nod again, feeling reassured when Cathal takes my hand, knowing how difficult that is for him.
“I know,” I murmur, wondering what I’ve done. Margaret is a first-class bitch, and she has no space in my head anymore. I won’t fear her again now that I have these two men to protect me.
She is dead to me.
40
SUMMER
The rich aroma of coffee drifts into the bedroom, coaxing me awake. I blink against the morning light streaming into the room, feeling a heaviness in my chest as the weight of my aunt’s sudden reappearance lingers with me, despite my best efforts to remove her from my mind. My arm stings, but it only reminds me that I’m ‘me’ and I don’t belong to Margaret anymore. If anything, I belong to Ciarán as he does to me. I wonder if Thal will ever brand me with his name.
“Morning,” Ciarán says softly, walking naked into the room with a steaming cup in his hand. He watches me for a moment before sitting at the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Ugh. I’m fine. Honestly. Last night was a stupid lapse in judgment. I remembered how it felt when you used your knife on me. I guess I just wanted to try it, see if it would draw my focus away from that bitch, to see if I could reclaim my body by forcing myself to accept that I’m no longer under her control.”
“I get that,” he says. “More than you know.”
Smiling sadly, I reach up to cup his face. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“If you are feeling stronger, we need to talk.”
“That is never a great way to start a conversation, Ciarán,” I point out, taking the cup he’s holding out.
He smiles. “We need to talk about the merge.”
“Right now?” I mumble, reluctant to leave the sanctuary of my bed and face the world outside.
“It’s bad timing, but it’s important.” Cathal appears in the doorway, concern etched on his face. “And put some fecking clothes on, man.”
“Nope.” Ciarán gives him a sassy grin.
“Fine,” I concede. The warmth of the cup seeps into my hands, comforting me as I sip.
“Things went a bit sideways yesterday. It’s not a problem, nothing for you to be concerned about, but we can’t sit here not acting. One of us will stay with you, but one of us has to go.”
“Summer, we’ll do everything in our power to protect you,” Ciarán reassures me, his intense gaze locking onto mine.
