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“You must have amazing ventilation in here. I can't even smell the turpentine,” Claire blathered nervously.
“We don't use turps. We use a natural method utilizing linseed and walnut oils mostly. But you know I don't use them because I didn't use them when I painted you.”
“Oh, right,” Claire said, flustered.
He'd somehow backed her against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Claire could feel the panic moving in. And then all at once, the flashback hit her. The smells and sounds of the basement. That drip, drip, drip of the leaky pipe in the corner that drew out the mice in the night when everything else was quiet.
“Please... please...” she begged, her arms going up defensively. She felt herself starting to hyperventilate, curling in on herself, shrinking to the ground, becoming very very small. Small enough to disappear if she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated hard enough.
“Claire!”
She heard Kane's voice only distantly. She couldn't find her way back out. The only thing she could feel was the terror.
Then suddenly Kane wasn't there, it was the man in the basement. “No!” she shrieked, cringing from the man.
No... she looked again. It was Ari.
“What in the fuck did you do to her?” he demanded.
“I just wanted to talk. I didn't mean to trigger anything.”
Ari knelt in front of her now, stroking her cheek, then petting her hair, whispering soothing words to her. After several minutes, the worst of the panic receded. She could see she was in the art studio with Kane and Ari. She looked down at her hands, willing the tremors to stop. Someone left the room in a rush. She thought it was Kane.
A few minutes later he was back, handing something to Ari, then Ari was trying to get her to drink.
“It's just water, little one. Drink. It'll help you calm down.” He stroked her hair while she drank the water, then Claire shakily put the lid back on and handed the bottle back to Ari. He sat next to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Shhhh. Everything is okay. You're safe. I should take her home.” He said that last part to Kane.
“No! I don't want to go home,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Claire nodded. Although she'd been nervous about what might happen here, she wanted to find out. It was the first time she'd been able to be out anywhere in years and feel safe. Until this moment, anyway.
Ari turned back to Kane. “Now tell me what the fuck you were doing?” he said, his voice a low growl.
“I needed to ask her something.”
“Then ask.”
Claire looked up at Kane. He seemed apologetic. He was obviously used to dealing with people who were less damaged—people who could take his intimidating presence without crumbling apart at his feet.
“I need to speak with her alone,” Kane said, his intense gaze never leaving hers.
“Over my dead body,” Ari said, still pissed off. “You remember how you felt when I tried to rescue Saskia out of that club and get her away from you? Multiply that by a hundred and you are close to understanding how I feel right now.”
“Master, please. It's not his fault I had a flashback. Anything could set one off under the right circumstances. Normal things. It was an innocent mistake.”
“Him backing you against the glass wasn't an innocent mistake. It was a clear intimidation tactic. Even without your history, he had no right to do that. You aren't his.”
“I thought we had a sort of timeshare arrangement,” Kane quipped.
“Shut up,” Ari gritted out.
Kane raised his hands in surrender.
Ari untangled himself from her and stood. He looked back and forth between Claire and Kane as though not trusting his instincts about leaving her alone with Kane a few minutes ago proved exactly why he shouldn't ignore them again in this moment.
