42
SEVEN
By the time I reached the Menagerie, the storm had started up again. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed loud enough to cause the lights to flicker. I found G alone in the guardhouse, pacing back and forth with a violent energy radiating from him.
“What's wrong?” I demanded.
G ran his hands roughly through his hair and the look on his face was devastating. I stepped towards him in alarm.
“G, what happened?”
“She tried to kill herself,” he said, his voice strained.
“What?”
“Mahoney drugged her—psychological torture or something—”
He couldn’t speak any longer, but he didn’t need to.
I got the point. The need to see her slammed into me and I turned and left the guard house.
I watched her from the shadows first to make sure I was calm.
Christ—even from here I could see she was covered in blood.
It was splattered across her cheeks and stained her hands.
One side of her face was swollen slightly where a guard must have clipped her, and her knuckles were split open.
The thought of someone putting their hands on her threatened to fuel my rage all over again, but it was the sight of her in my sweatshirt that ended up calming my anxiety.
I smirked—seeing her in my clothes definitely did it for me, and the fact that she accepted the offering filled me with feelings I shouldn’t have.
I wanted her to trust me so badly, and every time she donned my hoodie it only solidified the possessive need to protect her from everything.
I noticed the candy wrapper she was fidgeting with and chuckled quietly.
Three Musketeers.
I hoped she understood the reference. If not now, she would eventually because I wasn’t going to stop leaving her little treats.
I heard her sigh. “You can stop lurking,” she grumbled. “I know you’re there.”
I shifted from the shadows and stepped up to the bars. “Impressive.”
Her lips firmed, but she didn’t reply. Up close, I could see how exhausted she really was.
The kind that lived deep in the muscles—deep in the bones.
She was barely holding herself upright now that the adrenaline had burned off.
Her eyes kept threatening to close. She jerked them open as she fought sleep.
“Always fighting,” I muttered. “You should sleep.”
Emersyn shook her head.
“Nobody’s coming tonight,” I said firmly.
She still looked skeptical. That was irritating, but I shrugged it off because baby steps. She’d trust me eventually.
“Why do you keep leaving me hoodies?” She asked.
Because I hated how they kept her naked to make her vulnerable.
I hated how everyone in this place wanted to touch her—leer at her—objectify her.
Because every time I looked at her I saw someone trying so hard not to break down, and because I hated how she had nowhere to hide.
But mostly, it was because G was already in too deep and I wasn’t far behind.
I would give her anything. I shrugged and rubbed my arms as though I was cold.
“Cause it gets a little drafty in here, don’t you think?”
Emersyn tilted her head slightly. We both knew the Menagerie was a greenhouse and thus prone to more of a humid, temperate environment. She curled deeper into the sweatshirt and wrapped her arms around herself, but it was only because sleep fought her. I watched her stifle a yawn.
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
“Probably,” I answered.
Awareness glittered in her eyes as she stared, like something had taken shape that she didn’t want to give a name to yet.
A pattern she was piecing together that eventually maybe she’d start to associate with trust. Because, if there was one thing that G and I continued to demonstrate, it was that we kept showing up.
Over and over and over again. And, each time we did, we didn’t do anything but protect her. I hoped she saw that.
“You should sleep, little storm,” I said softly.
“Little storm?” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes narrowed as she turned over the nickname in her thoughts. “I can’t decide if that’s an insult or not.”
I shrugged. It had just slipped out, but I wasn’t about to take it back. “It’s not.”
A massive sigh escaped her. “I guess I’ve been called worse.”
I was going to reply, but I watched her eyes close and decided letting her fall asleep was better.
Her eyes didn’t open again, and I leaned against the bars and watched her breath even out as sleep finally claimed her.
She was even more striking in sleep when the harsh lines of violence softened.
Yeah, I was fucked—I wanted to go to her, to wrap her up in my arms so she knew beyond a doubt nothing bad could reach her.
But, for now, I settled with watching over her from afar.