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Missy
Lukas is laying face down on the mattress beside me when I wake. Flashes of memory hit me with the force of lightning. Limbs tangled, the hot taste of salty skin. Groans and growls. I hear my own pleading cries and slip quickly from the bed.
I clutch up the nearest piece of material and pull it over my head. It's someones huge t-shirt, smells like Seb. I look at the bed, and this time, freeze as I take in his long limbs, naked ass, and how innocent and calm he looks in his sleep. I almost want to get back into bed with him and burrow into the warmth next to him.
I resist. It’s hard. I reach up and touch my neck. There is no soreness, so I’m still packless. I should be happy, right? I choose to ignore the disappointment and turn, only to be caught by a wall of dark sketches. They are beautiful. I walk closer, examining the lone figures standing in the middle of storms. It’s evocative, emotional, and I feel like I’m looking at someone’s innermost thoughts.
A splash of colour draws my eye, and I find two photos in plain silver frames. One is of an old man with his arm around an old woman who beams at the camera. They are clearly familiar with each other and very much in love. I recognise the woman as Oma, but I don’t know who the man is.
The second photo makes my heart jump. I move closer absently, reaching out to touch the frame. Lukas, Sebastian, and Darion stare back at the camera. They don’t look carefree, even though they’re smiling. They look like they’ve survived hell. But you can see the bonds, stronger than pack, stronger than blood. There is something about the way they hold each other that speaks a warning to the rest of the world and a promise to each other.
They look young, barely eighteen. But so skinny, and there are bruises on Seb’s knuckles, and Lukas has a cut on his head.
Now, I know I’m looking at something I probably shouldn’t be, so I edge backwards and tear my eyes away. I walk to the door and stop with my hand on the handle. There is so much in that photo that I need to think about. So much that I want to ask, but I know better. I leave the room as quickly as I can.
Darion looks up, his nostrils flaring when he looks at me. “Can I get you anything?”
I lick my lips, trying to reconcile the person in the photo with the man standing in front of me. “Could I have a glass of water?”
He pours me a glass of water and passes it to me. Our fingertips graze. I hate this awkwardness. I hate that flash of memory that keeps slamming into my brain while I try hard not to choke on water, and I hate how I’m watching every move he’s making, unable to tear my eyes away.
Is he flexing or does that come naturally?
“Good morning, beautiful.” Lukas says and kisses the side of my head.
I jump and let out a squeak. His arms close around me, and the brief flash of thought that I should run evaporates into a warm comfort that I’m getting used to.
Lukas and Seb like to touch. They like to hold me. It’s taken me a while, but I think it brings them comfort. Darion, on the other hand, watches me, and I often catch a strange look in his eyes, like maybe he wants to, but that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?
“All right, I’m heading to the office,” Seb says, and strides past me.
I jerk out of Lukas’ hold in desperation. “Take me with you.”
All three of them freeze, turning towards me.
“What?”
“I…can’t sit in here with nothing to do. Give me a job. Give me something to do.”
Seb stiffens and glances quickly at Darion.
“She can help Ava with the research.” He says cautiously.
Seb looks stunned, and I realise Darion’s allowance is something of a shock.
“I can?” I look between him and Sebastian. Some silent conversation passes between them, and then Darion turns and walks out of the apartment.
An icy chill goes through me as I watch the door. I play the last few moments over in my head until Lukas touches my lower back.
“Get dressed, and I’ll take you down to meet Ava.”
Fifteen minutes later, I follow Lukas to the office where I find double the amount of people than I’ve ever seen here. I’d decided on a grey pencil skirt and a simple white shirt, but now that I’m here, I wish I’d chosen something more casual. I bite my cheek and try not to look like I’m terrified.
Lukas leads me over to a woman in her fifties who looks up at me and smiles. Her smile is warm, her eyes are a strange pale shade of brown and her hair is this curly mop on her head, complete with three pens sticking out of it. But, she instantly puts me at ease.
“Hi, I’m Ava.”
“Ava, Missy is going to help you.”
