Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
TRISTAN
I hiss as the scalding heat of the iron brushes against my hand, marking my fingers with yet another burn.
I don’t pause in my ministrations, however, simply moving on to the next leg of the boxers laid out on the ironing board. I squint my eyes, focusing on the task at hand, using the familiar, detailed motions to repress the memories and panic that tease at the back of my mind.
I need to get Xander’s boxers done soon if I want to repaint the baseboards and prepare dinner before everyone gets home.
Gray spots dance on the edge of my vision, sparkling and shining as vertigo washes over me, but I shake them away, ignoring them the same way I am the pain of the burns.
None of that matters.
I don’t matter.
I hum lightly to myself, covering the thoughts that want to burrow their way into the front of my mind, and my wolf whines and pushes against my skin. He doesn’t understand exactly what I’m doing—the way he cares for those under our protection focuses more on hunting and protecting against physical dangers—but I soothe him with the assurance that we are caring for them.
That we’re not still failing them.
I carefully hang the ironed boxers on a clipped hanger, then I reach down to unplug the iron. After that, I gather all of the hangers and move towards Xander’s closet.
Hm. I wonder if I should sort all of his clothes by color?
I tilt my head to the side, squinting my eyes slightly as I consider it. It really is a bit of a mess. His suits are mixed with his shirts, and once I hang up all of his boxers, it’ll be a tight fit. It’ll be easier for him to get dressed if everything is in order and done by color…
Mumbling to myself, I begin to sort hangers, placing them in the order he’ll need to grab them in the morning and then by color. Yes, yes, this will be good for him. Helpful.
“Tristan?” Kian’s voice is soft, but it still echoes into the closet I’m standing in, making me freeze.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, sucking in a big gulp of air and counting each item of clothing as I adjust the hanger. One, two, three, four…
I can see Kian move out of the corner of my eye, but I’m not able to face him. I’m barely able to face any of them, but Kian? He’s the hardest of them all. All of the poison that…that woman…whispered into my ears as she hurt me echoes in my mind. The things she did to him. The ways she hurt him. What she made him do… All the while, he was waiting for me to protect him.
Fabric rustles as I keep moving pieces around, unable to turn to face him. There’s a low huff of breath, and the door creaks as Kian leans against it, his head cocking to the side as he takes me in.
“She used to have another favorite, you know.” Kian’s voice is quiet, almost conversational, but with the blinders ripped from my eyes, I can hear the pain hidden underneath the words. “I’m not sure what his name was. She never said it. She called him ‘Toy.’”
He takes a breath, his head tipping backwards, his eyes finding the ceiling. I relax slightly now that I no longer have that too-knowing gaze locked onto me.
Does it make me sick that I’m curious? She never mentioned anyone else when she talked about Kian. Her focus had been on him, her words always manic and angry.
“He wore a mask when she’d call him in after a session. He was a healer of some type, though I’m not sure what all of his powers were. I’d look forward to it, you know. When her powers would release me and I’d hear her call for him. I knew the pain would be ending shortly.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and the corner of his lip twitches, as though he can feel my gaze on him, though my hands haven’t stopped moving.
Maybe I should arrange these by color first, rather than by type? Would that be better for him? Make him happier?
“Didn’t you ever wonder why you couldn’t see any scars?”
I pause at those words, my fingers stilling against the wool of Xander’s suit, the texture abrading the burns that litter my hands and the scabs from when I scrubbed the floor overnight and didn’t dilute the cleaner enough.
I’ve seen Kian without his shirt on often enough, between family parties in the summer and gym class at school, and if he had other marks under his clothes, it would have gotten around.
“She preferred psychological or sexual pain, usually, but when she got angry…” He shrugs. “It got easier as the years went on. She got angry less and less because I knew what she wanted, and it was easy to give it to her.”
His eyes meet mine, and I realize I started unconsciously rubbing my ribs, the memory of a knife digging into me so clear in my mind I can almost feel the sick, icy sensation of it tugging through my skin.
“She could make your body respond, then blame you for wanting it. And she had to be right, didn’t she? I mean, your body did respond. Over and over again. No matter how it hurt, your body wanted her, and after a while, your mind did too. It was easier, wasn’t it? To just give in to it? Tuck yourself away in that space in your head and let your body do what was needed to make the pain stop?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my nails digging into my sides as I fight to breathe. He said it so casually. So matter-of-fact. Yet, I can’t slow down, can’t pause, can’t stop at all, or I’ll be swamped with it.
I’ve been lucky in comparison to him. I realize that.
She’d still been in the middle of torturing me when Sera and V arrived. She had been too distracted by their sudden arrival to keep her power going enough to actually rape me. But it didn’t change the responses she’d forced from my body. Or the guilt and shame that’s been rotting inside of me since I woke up, eating away at me like a corrosive acid.
“It was harder after the healings, you know. I didn’t even have the pain to lean into. To distract me from how she’d made me feel. Not just about her, but about myself. About what she’d taken from me. What she’d made me into. I tried talking to my parents.” He scoffs at that, his head thunking back against the thick wooden door as nausea roils in my stomach.
I’m suddenly glad I haven’t eaten recently. If I had, I’d probably be washing Xander’s clothing all over again.
“That was futile, as I’m sure you know. And well…” He trails off, but I know what the unspoken words hold.
He tried talking to me too, but I’d been too self-involved, too self-righteous, too self-centered to hear him. To see his pain.
“I tried to be normal. To be what everyone expected, because if I could be normal, then maybe, just maybe, it would all be in my head. Maybe I’d wake up from that nightmare, and it’d all go away. In my mind, if I stopped being normal, then I’d let myself become a victim.”
I wince as his words hit me, nailing me as hard as a physical blow.
“Then I met her .”
The glow on his face is so pure, so entrancing, I can’t look away. If I didn’t know better, I’d think his power is roiling through him, but I can’t sense it at all now that I know what to look for.
No, this has nothing to do with power or lust or want. This is adoration, pure and simple.
“And where everyone else saw my body, saw the pleasure I could bring them, that they could force from me? She saw me . When I’d flinch. When I’d want to scream. When fear was burrowing so deep inside of me, I thought I couldn’t breathe. She saw every bit of it. And she didn’t care. She didn’t walk away, even when she watched those girls all over me.” His eyes meet mine, and for the first time since our accident, I don’t look away.
“Of course I didn’t.”
Kian and I both scramble, whirling to gape at Sera, standing next to Xander’s oversized bed. Tears stream down her cheeks as she watches us, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, fingers curling into the sides of her sweater as if she’s afraid she’ll come apart if she lets go.
Kian’s smile is soft as he reaches out and strokes his fingers gently down her cheeks, wiping away the tears.
“Don’t cry for me, mate,” he whispers, cradling her cheek in his palm.
She closes her eyes and nuzzles against his palm, soaking in his touch. I expect to feel jealous, even knowing now that she’s all of ours, that she always has been.
But it’s not jealousy I feel now. It’s…contentment? I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but my wolf huffs inside of me, enjoying seeing two of our packmates with each other, calming each other, caring for each other.
Her eyes open and meet mine, the haunted look in them calling to me, making my wolf whine and push against my skin. He’s been pushing for me to shift for her, to greet her himself.
To apologize himself.
But I haven’t been able to face it. Not yet. Not until I’ve…atoned.
As much as I need all of them around me to help mute out this pain, this fear, this shame, it still lives inside of me in those moments when I stop or focus on myself. It threatens to consume me whole.
“It wasn’t because you’re my mate.” Her voice quavers a little as she looks between us, a light blush flushing her cheeks, glowing brightly against the deep-pink strands of her hair. “I mean, I don’t want it happening to anyone. But for you…”
She takes a deep breath, that soft mouth firming up as her back straightens. My wolf makes an agreeing noise, soaking in her strength.
“For all of you, I’ll burn the world down around us if anyone hurts you.” There are nerves in her eyes as she meets my own, her teeth coming out to dig into her lower lip, chewing it as she looks between us.
“And we’d burn it with you.” Kian grips her chin in his hand, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers and breathe her in. “We’ll all kill for you without a question.” His lips brush against her cheek, tentative and sweet. “We’re proud of you saving him, angel.”
Fuck.
I step forward, reaching out to mirror Kian’s touch. “Thank you, Sera. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”
The words roll together as I try to sort them out, but she reaches out to touch us both, joining us into a triad of fear, pain, and hope. A living, aching wound that is struggling to heal.
We’re all broken in our own ways. All aching. Shattered. Torn to pieces by our pasts and our bodies. Even Sera. She may not have gone through what Kian and I have, but she understands what it’s like for a body to betray you. She shared her pain with us before. Her own fear—that her body will fail her and she’ll be a shell of who she once was.
“You’re ours, Tristan.” Tears well in her eyes, the blue nearly electric as she lightly grazes her fingers down my arm, watchful as she monitors our reactions. “You’ve suffered enough. Please.” Her voice cracks on the word. “Take care of us all you want, but take care of yourself too. And if you can’t right now, that’s okay. Just let us carry you for a while.”
I lean down to her, my heart pounding in my chest as I brush my lips over her temple. I look up into Kian’s eyes, and he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder, offering his own support.
“It’s okay to not be okay,” he assures me.
“I’m not okay,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly. I’ve barely spoken since my return, and my throat feels raw and weak. “I need to brush my teeth.”
I’m not sure why those are the words that leave my lips, but the tension breaks as Sera giggles, her nose wrinkling in a way that makes me want to hug her tightly.
“Then let’s go brush your teeth. Then we can have some dinner.”
None of us are okay right now, but we have each other. And that’s going to have to be enough right now. I’ll just take it a minute at a time.
And when I falter?
They’ll take care of me, and I’ll take care of them.
Because that’s what a pack does.
And I’m not losing anyone from mine ever again.