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“What the fuck?” I yell. “What’s your problem?”
“We could hear her use the safe word,” Caleb says, glaring at me. “You know we’re supposed to be responsible, we never let it get that far.”
“She’s fine,’ I argue, crossing my arms.
“She’s covered in bruises,” Dominic says, holding Sienna close to him. “And she’s terrified. You should have been checking in long before things got to this point, you asshole.”
“What were you thinking?” Caleb jabs a finger into my chest.
“I don’t need this shit. I’m sick of everyone questioning me!” I tell him, pushing him away before running a hand through my hair.
“Fine!” Caleb yells. “Then leave. Don’t come back until your head’s been screwed on straight.”
I feel the weight of his order pressing down on me, a realization dawning that I’ve spiraled out of control. For a moment, defiance flares inside, but it dissipates, replaced by burning shame.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm out, the echo of Caleb's rebuke ringing in my ears.
Everything is just so screwed up right now.
13
CALEB
As soon as we’re sure Bastian is gone, Dominic bundles Sienna up and takes her into the bathroom. I follow behind, taking note of the fact that Dom looks like he needs a minute.
“Hey, I’ve got her,” I tell him. “I can clean her up.” I wave him off. He deposits Sienna on the counter and takes off, storming downstairs.
Stepping into the bathroom, the air feels thick with tension, the weight of what happened hanging heavy over us in the confined space. Despite the warmth emanating from the heating vent, there's a distinct chill in the air.
Sienna is still shaking as I look her over, taking inventory of her bruises. Shit. Bastian did a number on her.
“Are you alright?” I ask. “That was rough.”
“I feel like shit,” she admits, a shaky sigh escaping her.
“Next time knee him in the balls.”
This brings a weak laugh from her.
“Why is he like this?” Sienna asks. “He’s so hot and cold with me.”
I shrug and gently wipe her off with a damp cloth. “That's just Bastian for you. Prince Charming was never his style. He's always been a bit rough around the edges.”
Sienna looks down as I open the drawer between her knees. “I’m going to put some ointment on you now,” I tell her.
Twisting off the cap of the tube, I dab some onto my fingers before spreading it across the bruises on her thighs. She winces but doesn’t make a peep.
As I work, my thoughts drift back to when we were kids and the three of us roamed around without a care in the world. Bastian had always been the more impulsive one of the three of us, quick to anger and even quicker to lash out. And I’d always been there to diffuse the situation, and smooth things over.
I can’t help wondering how I failed this time. I should never have let him go upstairs when I knew he was still reeling over the situation with the Serpents earlier.
“What happened in there?” I ask.
“He seemed fine at first, I guess,” Sienna tells me. “He asked if we could try some more rough stuff. But he told me that he would stop if I used a safe word.”
I sigh. “When we’re into rough stuff, we use a system,” I explain. “I prefer something like a traffic light system. Green means all good, yellow for caution, and red for stop.”
“Do you guys always go after the same girl?” Sienna asks.
