Chapter 23
Sable
The last time anyone played nurse for me was a paid registered professional.
I would’ve guessed that talking cats existed before thinking that I’d be doted on by a murderous demon.
It was cute at the start, but now I’m questioning if it’s worth reopening my wounds to uppercut him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get back to bed.” Lynx comes barreling through the guest bedroom door. I swear the asshole has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing when I’m trying to sneak out.
Sure, yeah, I got a little bit chummy and teary eyed the first five times he swept me off my feet and carried me bridal style to the bed. I bit the inside of my cheek and pretended I wasn’t blushing whenever he stayed for a no-touching cuddle session, and didn’t leave until I was fast asleep.
And yeah, my chest felt lighter and it felt like my soul could finally breathe whenever the pain got too much and he whispered words of support, because it felt like I wasn’t hurting alone.
And, yes, maybe whenever I was around him and the pain wasn’t too bad, I confused butterflies for nausea, and blushing for an infection that caused fever, but the truth of the matter is that I was internally gushing over his attentiveness yesterday, and the days before.
I’ve even missed every moment he’s left to do a perimeter check for signs of more Tor’Oths, and longed for him to come back and look at me—treat me—like I might be something precious to him. Like he might truly care about me.
Maybe it’s dumb, and maybe it’s more dangerous than I realize, but a little kernel of hope has blossomed in my chest that everything I’ve been feeling isn’t one-sided.
But first things first.
“If I have to spend another minute holed up in this musty, godforsaken room, I’m going to find one of those scary-looking demons and let the fucker take my soul,” I snarl, squaring up to Lynx even though I’m hunched over from the four jagged cuts across my stomach that still hurt like a bitch every time I do anything but pass out.
My skin itches as I try to move past his imposing frame and make a run for it out of the door. This may not be my bedroom, but it’s still the manor I grew up in, and I’ve been locked inside my room more times than I can count.
I’m starting to suffocate in here.
Lynx moves to pick me up, and I stumble to the side, trying to inch closer to the exit.
“This isn’t a joke, Sable. It could have killed you.”
“You’re going to kill me again at this rate.” I hate this show of weakness. That a bedroom and nothingness could make me go insane.
Sleep isn’t cutting it anymore. I don’t know how much more time I can spend staring aimlessly out of the window. I need to do something other than sitting with my own head and pain.
I’m not fast enough to avoid Lynx when he reaches for my arm.
“There are alternatives, like tying you down, if you insist on acting like a brat.”
“I fucking hate this place. I’ve seen nothing but the same four walls for the past four days.
I’ve even counted how many strips of wallpaper they’ve used—forty-three—and have a running tally of every bug I’ve seen.
” I try to hide the breathlessness from my voice and attempt to slap his hand away with no success. “I am bored, Lincoln.”
His expression turns into a scowl at the use of his real name. “Tough shit. You’re injured.”
“And I’m about to get a lot more injured in the brawl we’re about to have unless you get your hand off me.” I’m only partly lying to myself. I like it when he touches me.
If he does let go, I don’t have full faith in my legs to keep me stable since he’s bearing a lot of my weight.
The muscle in his jaw flickers. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”
When Lynx speaks, it’s not his voice I hear. It’s my father, whenever I caused any kind of trouble. It’s my mother, whenever I so much as breathed too loud. It’s every person in my life who told me I was too much and not enough.
“No one told you to help me. I never asked,” I snap, yanking myself out of his grip.
I can barely feel the pain that slices through me as my voice finds solid ground and the familiar, cold, empty rage takes over.
“If I’m so fucking difficult, why don’t you let go so I can fall down the stairs and put us both out of our misery? ”
I’ll stop being a problem for anyone that way.
The corners of Lynx’s eyes soften. It’s a fact that barely registers in my brain when he reaches for me again. “Sable, I—”
“You know what? No, fuck you.” I shuffle back, pointing an accusatory finger at him as if he’s every person who let me down when I was a child. Somewhere deep down, I know his comment was made in banter. “I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t need your help. Leave me the hell—”
My rant cuts off when he abruptly sweeps me off my feet to hold me bridal style against his chest once more, topping it with a stern, “Stop talking, Sable.”
I gape at him and his lack of reaction to the bait because I wanted the argument—to scream like it might fix everything that happened. Instead, he’s carrying me down the hall as if my outburst never happened.
Like maybe he knows what I was after and sees all the skeletons I’m keeping in my closet, and doesn’t care that my sharp, broken edges are showing.
“What—”
“Keep moving your mouth and I’ll find a better use for it.”
My jaw drops further, and heat fills me from the inside out. I have whiplash from his ability to take control over my emotions so quickly.
“I’m injured.” It’s a stupid response.
“Then you know what you need to do.”
Yes. Shut up. That’s exactly what I do because I’m too dumbfounded to say anything else as he carries me to the opposite side of the manor and into another living area, where he kicks open the French doors into the balcony then carefully sets me down on the paved floor, a couple of feet from the railing.
He wordlessly takes a seat beside me and stares out at the lake and the forestry surrounding it.
The silence settles around us, with nothing but birdsong and the air to fill the space between us.
I watch him out the corner of my eye. The darkness paints the dip in his jaw and the hard lines around his eyes while the moonlight kisses his cheekbones and leaves the faintest glisten on his lips. He almost looks ethereal, like a creature touched by the moon instead of just molded by shadows.
My gaze shifts to the scenery I’ve seen a thousand times before, and as the seconds pass, the rage I’ve known my entire life recedes into the cave it’s always lived in. The deeper it gets, the easier it is to pull Lynx’s scent into my lungs and forget about the sharp ache of loneliness.
The cold air sends a shiver down my spine. Without so much as a word or a glance Lynx’s way, I’m back in his arms, being brought closer toward the exterior wall, which blocks the breeze. He encircles me, soaking me in his warmth, my back against his chest as he leans against the manor.
His arm is big enough to cover my own and act as a human blanket against the chill, but really, I’m already burning up. Heat tinges my cheeks, and the warmth unfurling beneath my ribs is making it hard to breathe.
There’s that swoop in my belly again. The one I tell myself is nausea even though there’s no mistaking the flutter of wings.
This time, the silence isn’t calm or peaceful. It’s weighted. Like there’s a knife above my head and at any moment it’s going to drop.
I shouldn’t want a demon, but I was never good at following the rules of the living. Let alone the dead.
I’m stiff against his expanse of hard muscle. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never cuddled before, and I’m scared that if I move, he’ll leave, but I can’t sit here with this building tension.
“Want to play a game?” I blurt, wincing the moment I open my mouth.
“Not particularly,” Lynx rumbles, his chest vibrating against my back.
I inch away to lean against the cold brick wall so I can think clearly, but his arm stays wrapped around my shoulders. “Two truths and a lie.” I clear my throat, angling myself to look up at him.
He arches a brow. “That sounds like a bad name for a brothel.”
“I’m sure it’s less fun too.” I snort, tucking my fidgeting hands beneath my thighs so he doesn’t see what his presence is doing to me.
“One person says two true things about themselves, and one lie. The other person has to guess which is a lie. It’s a game we’d play at school to get to know one another better. ”
It’s an almost jarring realization that I want to know every possible thing there is to know about Lynx. I want to know the things that made him happy, the struggles he might have faced as a child, all the times he sat in Hell questioning what it meant to be human.
I want to know everything because somewhere along the way, I’ve forgiven him for everything he’s done to me. I haven’t forgotten about it, but I’m not constantly using it as an excuse anymore. It was just easier to blame him for everything.
If I really think about it, there’s no one else I’d rather be trapped here with than him. Helping me bury my body, searching for my missing limbs, nursing me back to health—it’s his way of quietly calling a truce. Apologizing.
“What happens when you guess incorrectly?” Lynx asks, fixing my robe so it better covers my legs.
And the butterflies swoop again. He doesn’t know I’m not cold as long as he’s touching me.
“Nothing.”
He huffs, tugging me closer to him. “It sounds pointless, then.”
Lynx’s small action makes my brain short-circuit, and I scramble for something to say.
“It sounds like we’re either stuck here for eternity, or a soul-sucking demon comes back to kill us.” The wound on my stomach yells at me when I shrug. “Either way, it’s a lose–lose situation, and it’s not like I’ve got anyone to share your secrets with.”
Other than Tidus.