14. Luna
Everything feels warm.
My toes curl and stretch as the arches of my feet pull, an ache running up my calves like a cramp that’s still fading. I flex my head back, the curve in my spine feeling stiff and sore, but I’m so comfortable, I don’t want to wake up yet.
The pillow beneath my head is so puffy it’s almost wrapping up around my ears. There’s soft cotton touching my skin, the light pressure of a weighted quilt over the top of my body, it feels like I’m sleeping in a cloud.
That’s why my eyes suddenly snap open, my heart thundering in my chest, lungs heaving with panicked breaths.
“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” a deep, gruff voice says from beside me, making me flinch, a hiss escaping my teeth as something snags sharply in my arm.
Blinking hard, I look up with heavy eyes, and suck in a hard breath.
The handsome man from when I woke up before sits beside me.
I was in a coffin.
I fought and crawled my way out of it…
Is any of this real?
His eyes are like whiskey, rich honey yellow, warm but hard. His black brows are pulled in a tight dip, his forehead creased, and his attention is all on me.
“You’re safe now,” the man whispers, “I’m going to keep you safe.”
“Where am I?” my voice a cracked whisper, I swallow hard, licking my dry lips.
The man turns, sitting on a stool higher than the bed I lie in, reaching for something on his other side, before turning back to me, a cup in his hand, a white paper straw. He leans closer, guiding the cup to my mouth, the straw to my lips.
“Drink,” he encourages, those unusual coloured eyes holding mine.
I take the straw into my mouth, gently sucking up cool water. It feels incredible sliding down my parched throat, the inside of my mouth coming alive again as I swallow it down.
“Not too much,” he says, then, “we’re at my house,” he tells me, taking the cup away and placing it back down. “How are you feeling?”
I stare up at him, my eyes dropping from his stare to the black stubble covering his jaw, following the stark cords in his neck to the round neckline of his black t-shirt grazing the hollow of his throat. My fingertips twitch, wanting to touch him there, like it’s familiar, as though I’ve done it a hundred times before.
“Luna,” the man says, my eyes snapping back to his, my lips parting.
Luna… that’s me.
He speaks my name knowingly, like we’re familiars, friends, lovers?
Tears fill my eyes, my breath burning as I hold it tight. Staring up at him, he reaches forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Instinctively, I lean into his touch, his skin so, so warm, his palm and fingers calloused, but the way he lets me nuzzle into his hand, sweeps his thumb beneath my eye, cups my cheek, makes my body relax, my breath exhale in a rush. But the tears fall all the same, he makes me feel safe, and I don’t know who he is.
“Luna,” he whispers, and I know that’s my name, I know that’s my name, but I don’t know his, and- “Do you remember what happened, baby?”
Baby.
“No,” I shake my head, lifting my hand to press over his, bandages and tape and gauze wrapped around my stiff fist. “I don’t remember.” tears roll down my cheeks, wetting his hand, but he doesn’t lean back, he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t remember who you are,” but I don’t want you to stop touching me.
He sucks in a breath, pain and something else darkening his features, but he doesn’t move his hand away, and he doesn’t try to, my hand still over the top of his.
“It’s okay,” he hushes, the pressure of his hand on my cheek the only thing I can feel. “You don’t have to remember anything right now, all you gotta do is feel better.” He offers me this tiny, sad smile and I swallow hard, my throat thick, my face wet. “Don’t get upset,” he whispers, sweeping his thumb across my cheek, “I’ll look after you.”
My eyes slam shut tight, tears squeezing free, a sob rattling my chest, my body jumping with a core deep cry, but the man doesn’t release me, he doesn’t move away, I don’t scare him off.
“It’s okay,” he repeats, over and over, spreading tears across my cheek with the smoothing of his thumb. “You can cry,” his deep voice is a gruff whisper, rough but soothing, and as my entire body trembles with my sobs, he just sits and lets me ride it out.
Sniffing unevenly, my breaths too stuttery, I blink my eyes open, and find his already on me, soft and open, “I don’t know anything, my head’s all,” I purse my lips, pulling in a deep, hard breath, “fuzzy.” The cries soften, and he’s still shushing me, patient.
“I’m Wolf,” he says calmly, “Wolf Blackwell,” his hand like fiery warmth against my cheek.
“And how do I know you?” I manage to get out, hiccupping on the words, my eyes wide and wet on his.
He frowns a little, his face pulling tight briefly before smoothing out again. I can smell him now, his skin so close to my nose, the strong scent of disinfectant, but something else too, him, lilies and teakwood. It doesn’t feel familiar but it feels safe.
“I was shot,” he says blandly, like it doesn’t really mean anything, but a small gasp escapes my lips all the same, my fingers tightening over his on my cheek as my heart clenches with worry. “I’m okay, now,” he reassures me, this pained smile curling one corner of his lips. “You took care of me, in the hospital.”
He stares at me a moment, letting it sink in, and, “I work there.”
He smiles then, nodding, “You do.”
Exhaling slowly, I feel my chest loosen slightly, “But why am I here with you?”
Wolf’s eyes narrow, one of them twitching at the outer corner, “Because somebody hurt you, and I found you, brought you here to take care of you.”
Everything inside of me feels like it’s being rejected out of my skin, because, “You thought I was dead.”
“I couldn’t get a pulse, or a heartbeat, or a- fuck. Anything! I should never have put you in that coffi-”
“I’m okay,” I tell him quickly, doing what he just did for me, reassuring.
The split tips of my fingers slide beneath his, wedging between the underside of his hand and my cheek.
“I could have killed you,” he whispers. “Look what happened to you because of me,” he sighs, dropping his gaze and I find myself desperately wanting to claw it back.
“But you didn’t.” I lick my lips, cracked and dry, glancing down at my other arm, a clear tube connecting my inner elbow to his, it makes my heart swell and flutter. “You wouldn’t have meant to hurt me,” I breathe the words, his eyes slowly lifting back to mine, uncertainty in his gaze, his chin still dipped. “I- I know that.” I frown as I say it, unsure how, exactly, I know that, only that I do. But a sudden wash of panic overwhelms me, my body going cold, despite my skin feeling hot, “What happened to me, Wolf?” he shudders at the question, but he doesn’t shy away from it.
“Honestly, I don’t know. All I know is how I found you, and-”
“How did you find me?” The words are barely a whisper, but Wolf is leaning down so close now, I can feel his breath on my skin and it sends signals to my brain that are confusing for someone who just clawed their way out of their own coffin.
Would he have buried me?
“Dead,” he cringes a little, but his eyes shine, yellow-caramel, glass orbs, mesmerising. “In the river, beaten, shot, and-” He pulls himself up short, stopping the next words, his breath leaving him in a rush, but I grip his fingers, squeezing, telling him with my eyes to say it. “Sodomised.”
It’s as though the word triggers the pained nerve endings in my entire body, because suddenly everything seems to come back online, like I’ve just been shocked with a million volts of electricity, and it hurts.
“I’m going to protect you, keep you safe.”
“Who would do… that to me, why would they kill me? Am I…” I lick my lips, pain vaulting through every inch of my skin. “Am I a bad person?” My gaze lifts, eyes flicking between his, as his face hardens into stone.
“No. You’re not a bad person, you’re just someone that other people thought they could hurt. You did nothing wrong.”
“How can you know that? What if I’m in a gang or something?”
What if I hurt people and deserved to die?
What if I’m a murderer?
He laughs, but it’s not humorous.
“You’re not anything you’re thinking, Luna.” Wolf’s hand flips in mine, his fingers lacing though my own, the scarred backs of his knuckles grazing my cheek. “You’re not bad, you’re not in a gang. You haven’t committed any crimes.”
“But how can you know?” Tears well up again, and my face hurts too much to keep crying, the side of my head burning with every wince and pull of my features, the skin too tight.
“I just know.” He shrugs loosely, running our joined hands over the arch of my cheek.
“How was I in a coffin?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“Oh. Well, I- this is a funeral home,” Wolf tells me. “I… look after people once they’ve passed away.”
It feels as though that statement has a lot more meaning to it than that, but I don’t press, this is all too much to take in anyway, so I just nod, like that’s enough.
“Why can’t I remember anything?” it’s vulnerable and the sound makes me feel sick inside, but I just… trust this man, even if I don’t know why.
Wolf swallows, his dark, stubble studded, throat rolls with the motion, his plump lips curl together between his teeth, the dark rose-pink colour blanching briefly as they pop free. “Sometimes, after something traumatic happens, or we get a head injury, we forget things for a while, sometimes everything, sometimes a little.” He smooths his hand down to my jaw, his fingers fanning out over my face, thumb to the tip of my chin, my own hand falling away, dropping to my side. “It’ll come back, whatever you don’t remember, it’ll come back, just don’t try to force it, okay?”
With a deep frown, I hold his gaze, my insides feeling like they don’t belong, my skin itching and tight, like it doesn’t quite fit.
“Let me take care of you,” Wolf whispers.
Dipping his face back into mine, I think of our arms joined by a tube ferrying blood, presumably from his veins into mine, and I glance down at it, staring at the clear plastic filled with rich crimson.
“Why do you want to?” it’s the breathiest whisper I can manage, my voice crackling, but I don’t look at him, I breathe him in instead, this scent that I feel like I know, but not well, as I stare at the tube. “Why would you look after me? Why did you look for me? How did you find me?”
Sharply, I look up at him, my head pounding in time with the frantic banging of my heart. His eyes are on mine, and the emotions in them change quicker than the wind, so many things flash across his face before his features smooth out.
“I looked for you because I had a bad feeling. I found you because my brother gave you a card that had a tracking chip in it. And I want to take care of you because before all of this…” Wolf glances away, blowing out a breath that rushes over my face. “I wanted us to be more.”
I blink, my eyes feeling droopy, everything feeling light and heavy all at once, “More?” I whisper.
He dips his face closer, our noses brushing, a strand of straight, black hair dropping from behind his hair, tickling across my cheek.
“I wanted you to be mine.”