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“Let’s get out of here,” Brax murmurs, splaying his fingers at the base of my spine as he pulls me from the thinning crowd. Instead of taking to the pathway like everyone else, he slips behind the shrubs and trees for some privacy before he attempts to generate a gateway.
Three tries and no luck. The glare on his face practically vibrates from him.
“They must still have the wards in place, or something from the drill earlier is still suppressing the transportation magic,” I recall, remembering the moment when we were in Figgins’s office, ready to go and see Ari, before everything went to Hell. “It’s okay, though. Maybe the walk will do us some good,” I offer, but it does nothing to relax the tension building in his shoulders.
He doesn’t utter a word in acknowledgment as he takes off, leaving me to hurry after him. We rejoin the path, my grumpy gargoyle leading the way as usual, when he suddenly stops, turning to face me with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His gaze travels around us, noting every student that passes as we stand in the center of the walkway.
It takes a moment for me to piece it together, but once I do, it all makes sense.
He’s used to walking ahead, living in his thoughts while I walk with the others. Now, if he takes the lead, there’s no one to protect me from behind or at my sides. If I thought it once, I'd have thought it a thousand times since the emerald gate shut before us.
It’s just the two of us.
Brax and me.
For now, at least.
I don’t know what words of comfort to offer him. I know none will make it easier. His eyes track between mine, searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on before he reaches his hand out, palm face up, and I don’t waste a second before placing my hand in his.
We walk in comfortable silence, side by side, hand in hand, as we get lost in our own minds in the presence of one another. I want to give him a moment to get a grasp on exactly what we’re sinking in, but I can’t help but fixate on the small dead weight inside of me.
Not from the guys. I’m clinging to hope when it comes to them. It’s because of Genie. Well, not her specifically, but more the fact that for the first time since I was forced to bring someone back I… couldn’t. It felt like a deeper loss than on the surface. As much as I didn’t want Genie’s death on my hands, it doesn’t pain me like I thought it might, but my soul, the core of my magic, that hurts. Maybe from the pent-up energy brought to the surface, ready to work to no avail. Now it sits heavy in my gut with nowhere to go.
Before I know it, we’re back at the house, the door closing behind us with a thud, and the silence screams in my ears.
Fuck.
The quiet is too much. The walls are used to handling the thoughts and voices of five, and now there are only two. I can’t wrap my head around it. It hurts too much.
Releasing Brax’s hand, I head for my room, my gut twisting even tighter as I take in the huge bed. The bed meant for all of us. The bed that looks too big, too empty, too… sad.
My heart aches, but I feel Brax’s presence behind me, his body heat wrapping around me even though we’re not touching as he sighs, feeling the weight of the silence as much as I am.
“Let’s shower.”
He walks around me, heading for the bathroom, and I follow after him, a numbness creeping down my spine as longing claims me. The shower turns on with his magic, but he takes the effort to strip out of his clothes one layer at a time. I roll with it, taking my time with each item of clothing I have on, letting the process ground me as I run through the mundane task.
Brax steps under the spray first, and I keep a step behind him, drawn to him like a moth to the flame. He’s my grounding rock right now. The reason I can still see straight. The one wading through the fog that clouds my mind. Not that I could tell him any of that, not when he’s sinking too. The last thing my gargoyle needs is to feel any more responsibility for me than he already does. Not when he’s helping me. I can see the effort in every move, every breath, without a single grumble about it.
The spray from the shower warms my skin, making me shiver as I tip my head back. Every drop of water eases the tension in my muscles and my shoulders sag with relief. My eyes drift close as I breathe slowly, just letting the steady stream beat down on me.
I startle when hands wrap around my waist, followed quickly by a cloth a moment later. Blinking, I find Brax running the fabric over my damp body and lathering soap onto my skin. Once he’s satisfied with my top half, he drops to his knees, proceeding with the same attention and care as he cleans my legs, ass, and finally, the apex of my thighs.
He doesn’t linger, quickly getting back up on his feet and reaching for the shampoo. As he takes the time to wash my hair, emotions bubble to the surface. His delicate touch, the unspoken consideration of my needs, all of it, blossoms wildly in my chest.
Once he’s done, I’m left panting, gaping at him in awe before I finally find the ability to move. This time, I reach for the cloth, not caring if the body wash is fruity as I work it into his skin.
I enjoy tracing his collarbone, down between his pecs, and over every ridge of his six-pack. The feel of the raised cords in his arms reminds me of the strength this man holds. I’m still fixated on it when I drop to my knees, starting at his feet before I make my way up to his knees and reach his waist.
His cock stands stiff and aimed in my direction. Looking up at him, I find him staring at me, chest heaving with every breath as he takes me in. I can see the conflict in his eyes.
Any other time there would be no question whether I would take him in my mouth, desperate for it, but because Zane, Creed, and Eldon are fuck knows where, it feels… inconsiderate? Fuck, I don’t know.
His eyes darken. One brown. One green.
The world stands still around us for the briefest moment, and before I can think more of it, talk myself out of something I need more than my next breath, I inch forward, taking his long, thick length between my lips.
My gaze remains locked on his as my tongue swirls around the tip. His jaw ticks, and his neck muscles clench, but he doesn’t push me away or tell me to stop. Bracing my hands on his thighs, I swallow him to the back of my throat, humming at the salty taste of him against my tongue.
