Chapter 38 #2
It’s why it takes him several extended seconds to click to Izz having paused in his retelling. His mind trickling back in, carrying with it his own take on family bonding experiences.
“I never had any siblings so I can’t relate. Nor do I feel anything for others.” Not feeling empathy for others may have been who he was born to be, or a product of his upbringing. He will never definitively know for sure.
He withheld the topic of Zayne from the boy, it’s not something that can be discussed without going into detail as to how Zayne came to be in their lives, and why his father kept Zayne around once he dropped into their laps.
And it’s not as if he can share their family bonding, when it was done over knives, blood, tortured sacrifices, and death.
He trains his attention back onto Izz, connecting their eyes. “I can understand how you mean. What would be there. The love you share with her.”
Not truly, but Izz needn’t know. And in a way he might be able to say he has loved. He knows he holds Zayne in a way that differs from how he sees others. And he definitely holds Izz in a different light. Something even stronger than how he views Zayne.
“You really don’t feel love for anyone?”
“No. Not in the way I’ve seen others.” He twists to whole bodily face Izz, giving the green-eyed boy his open chest, showing in his actions how he is honest and trustworthy.
No closed off arms crossed, his demeanour is a hundred percent open.
Even when his mouth controls speech aimed to lull Izz into a sense of security.
And to do this he will need to offer a few shallow explanations.
Just enough information to offer a nibble to satisfy any curiosity.
“I . . . enjoy things, maybe you could call it love but not in the way most people do.”
“So what do you feel for me?”
How to answer that? He can’t very well say he wants to devour Izz. Wants to peel off his skin just to slide under it so there is no barrier left between them.
“ . . . Protective. I do not want anyone else to be near you, to touch you. I want to keep you.”
That’s a normal answer, yes?
It must be, because the tightness in Izz’s body visibly releases. He can see the uncoiling of muscles and the walls around Izz’s inner conflicts crumbling.
“You’ll protect me . . .” Izz whispers under his breath, speaking as though to himself and not to Sinn'ous.
Then the boy shocks the shit out of him by curling over to rest his head in Sinn'ous’s lap, pressing his body in tight. A touched starved puppy looking for warmth the only way it knows.
The affection demonstrated towards him is a thrill of endorphins stitching themselves into his pride. Pride at himself for manifesting this result. In closing in on Izz’s trust and trapping the boy behind walls of Sinn'ous’s making.
“Is this your version of loving someone?” The hopeful lilt in Izz’s words pricks the edge of Sinn'ous’s lips into a smirk he smooths out instantly.
“Perhaps.” Sinn'ous absently digs his fingers into Izz’s hair, petting through the hazelnut strands. “Is that what people do, who care for each other.” He idly wonders. He isn’t after an answer to this. He doubts anything given would be something he can see or relate to.
“I guess,” the tone is off putting, skirting close to disappointment and relief tainted by acceptance. “I feel safe with you around. Best sleep I’ve had since I arrived here. ‘Cause I know you’d never let anything happen to me while I sleep.”
Not from anyone else, no.
“I would not.” No one but me will ever touch you again. You are mine to keep, and I do not let go of what is mine.
“But what about when you’re not around? Everyone in this place seems hell bent on making my life a living Hell.”
This is true. And has been shown more times than Sinn'ous cares to admit. Too many think they can step near what doesn’t belong to them.
Pushing boundaries Sinn'ous is not willing to have pushed. And as much as he would love nothing more than to kill everyone in Sandstone Correctional, it is not practical. Culling a few here and there is doable, but once you start mass killing them that’s when they swarm together and start fighting back.
He can not take on an entire prison.
There might be a way to visibly stake his claim.
“I could mark you.”
Inking the boy might have the desired effect to publicly claim him, leaving no room for misinterpreting Sinn'ous’s stake on Izz. You can not argue with a tag of ownership and cannot cry over deaths to those who ignore said tag.
Izz makes a face, scrunching his nose in a combination crossed between disgust and curiosity. He’s not sure what Izz’s thinking but he opens his mouth to put him at ease. Can’t have an active imagination screwing up all the work he has done breaking down the boy’s defences.
“I can have my mark tattooed on you. No guards or inmates will dare touch you, they’ll know whose wrath it will invite if they so much as disrespect you.”
Relief flows from the boy. A tangible wave clouding the air around them. An unexpected reaction, but pleasing.
Sinn'ous allows for time. Letting Izz chew on the idea.
This will be a momentous steppingstone, and if Izz agrees. . . it will be a door opening that Sinn'ous will take the hinges off and remove entirely.
Izz’s gentle smile accompanies the response Sinn'ous was waiting for. “Yes. I’d like that.