Chapter 9 #2
I would’ve never thought I could let anyone touch me again, not after everything. But here I am, pressed against Sylus, his arms holding me securely, Jinx nestled on my other side. And somehow, right now, someone’s touch isn’t a reminder of how broken I’ve become.
It’s… safe.
Sylus managed to slip past the walls I built. Not by force or demanding anything of me, but with persistence and patience. He didn’t try to break them down. He just waited, chipping away a little at a time until I finally let him in until he was my best friend.
Maybe it could work with her too. Maybe she could help me feel whole again. Maybe I could try to be someone better for her.
Because she was my best friend first.
“You think she can fix me, Sy?
“I think she doesn’t care about fixing you. I think she just wants you. Whatever version of you exists now, she’ll take it.”
“And what if the new version of me isn’t worthy of her?”
“Give her the chance to decide, Ric.” Sylus shifts behind me. “Don’t make that choice for her.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. The thought of facing her or letting her see the shattered pieces of me is terrifying. But the thought of shutting her out again, of losing her for a second time…
I close my eyes, swallowing hard.
“I have to try,” I murmur and feel him relax behind me.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the hum of Jinx’s purring. My breath slows, settling into a rhythm that doesn’t feel like it’s going to choke me. Exhaustion takes over, and my body sinks into the mattress as my mind finally quiets.
Sylus
The weight of Alaric’s steady breathing against my chest finally lets me relax. He’s out, and thank fuck for that. The guy needs the rest.
Jinx, curled on the bed near us, lets out a chirp while stretching, her green eyes going to the closed door. She stands, tail flicking with impatient grace, and pads toward it before giving me a look.
I huff out a quiet laugh, then carefully shift out from behind Alaric and slip away. His brow furrows in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.
Good.
Jinx lets out another soft meow, staring pointedly at the door. I reach for the handle, easing it open just enough for her to slip through, and she disappears into the hallway without a backward glance.
I hesitate for a second, glancing back at Alaric’s sleeping form.
Now that he’s at least somewhat fine, I need to see my girl and make sure she is too.
The hallway is dark, the wooden floor cool under my feet as I descend the stairs, the faint murmur of voices drawing me toward the living room. I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.
Levi is awake, which is good. He’s sitting on the couch, talking softly with Koen. His face is pale but alert, and I can already see the familiar glint of sarcasm in his eyes as he leans back.
But it’s the scene next to them that makes my blood boil.
Sparkle is draped across Nicholas’s lap, her head resting against his chest, her eyes closed like she’s sleeping. Nicholas’s hand is in her hair, stroking it, his expression almost fucking dreamy. His other arm is wrapped around her waist like she’s his.
Yeah, fuck that.
“Didn’t I tell you to look after her?” My voice is sharp, cutting through whatever they are whispering about.
Koen looks up, startled, his brows pulling together in confusion. “I—”
Before he can say another word, I’m standing in front of Nicholas.
His gaze snaps up to meet mine, his grip on Sparkle tightening slightly like he knows what’s coming.
Without hesitation, I scoop her out of his lap.
The blanket that was covering her slips to the floor, leaving her in her bra and stolen uniform pants.
Her injured arm looks better, cleaned somewhat, but the dried blood still clings to her skin—a fucking reminder of how much she’s been through today.
“Really, Koen?” I snap. “You couldn’t even make sure she had a shirt on?”
Koen has the decency to look sheepish, his mouth opening like he’s about to explain, but Sparkle stirs in my arms. “Hottie?”
Her head lolls against my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Koen stands. “I was waiting to see if Alaric could treat her wound or—”
“Alaric needs a fucking break. And she needs a damn shower,” I cut him off. “And fresh clothes. And something to eat. Make yourself helpful and get food going, goddammit.”
Koen blinks at me, then nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he heads to the kitchen.
I shouldn’t snap at him. He had a fucking bad day, too, but I’m too on edge for apologies.
Between Veronica getting her claws into Levi, Alaric’s meltdown, and now finding Nicholas playing white knight with my girl, I’m done.
I glance over at Levi, who’s perched on the edge of the couch next to Ezra. “Good to have you back, idiot. Next time, tell me in advance if you’re planning to go on a suicide mission.”
“Yes, sir.” Levi rolls his eyes, his grin widening despite the faint bruising on his face.
Without another word, I carry Sparkle up the stairs and into my room, shutting the door firmly behind us. The en-suite light clicks on automatically as I set her down on the edge of the closed toilet. Her head lolls forward. She’s still half asleep.
“Stay with me.” I brush her hair back from her face as I crouch in front of her before turning on the shower, adjusting the water until it’s warm but not too hot.
“You know I love it when you’re like this, but right now, I need you to help me here,” I say softly, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. “Can you do that?”
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed, but she nods faintly.
God, she’s so fucking exhausted.
When I’m sure she’s sitting upright on her own, I pull back to strip off my shirt, tossing it into the corner and tugging at the waistband of my jeans. I step out of them quickly, and my socks and boxers follow suit.
Her gaze barely registers my movement, her focus already slipping again. I unclasp her bra and slide it down, careful to avoid jostling her injured arm. But she winces slightly when I move it anyway, and my chest tightens at the movement.
“Sorry, Sparkle baby,” I murmur. “Almost done.”
Once her pants, panties, and socks are off, and her phone and matchbox rest safely on the sink, I guide her toward the shower, keeping my hands on her waist. I step in with her, supporting her as the water cascades over us.
She leans back heavily into me, the back of her head pressing against my chest, and she shivers, even in the warm spray.
“You’re okay,” I say, more to reassure myself than her. “I’ve got you.”
“You always do.” She reaches down to grab my hand and slide her fingers between mine. “You’re my person.”
Fucking finally.
It’s like the angels themselves are singing a hallelujah chorus, their voices reverberating through every cell in my body.
She finally sees it. Acknowledges it. And not only in the fleeting, half-hearted way she’s done before, like she was scared of what it meant. No, this is different. This is real.
My heart thunders so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in the spaces where her skin meets mine.
“You’re my person too.” My throat tightens because it feels too big, too good to be true. The universe rarely gives me what I want, but right now, in this moment, she’s here, choosing me.
Even if Alaric had her heart first, even if Koen has a part of this, too, even if she finds solace in Nicholas’s arms, she’s letting me in, cracking the door open just wide enough for me to slip through to plant myself in the spaces she’s kept locked tight.
And I’ll take that. I’ll take every inch she gives me, every breath, every heartbeat until she realizes I’m not going anywhere.
I’ll patch the wounds others have left behind with my hands, my lips, my fucking soul if I have to.
Her fingers squeeze mine a little tighter like she knows the battle raging in my head.
She’s my person. And I’ll be damned if I ever let her forget it.
I let the water run over her arm, rinsing away the streaks of dried blood.
The graze isn’t as bad as I feared, but the sight of her battered and vulnerable has something clawing at my insides.
Her skin is cooler than it should be, her weight slumping into me like the strength’s been drained from her bones.
Grabbing the soap, I work up a lather and run it over her in slow, careful circles. I wash her arm gently, avoiding the wound, my thumb ghosting over the curve of her scarred shoulder. She feels fragile, so much more delicate than I know she is, and it scares the hell out of me.
When I tilt her chin up to rinse her face, her lashes flutter, eyes half-opening. “Sparkle,” I murmur with my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. “Stay with me, okay? Just a little longer.”
She hums softly in response, her lips parting a little bit, and I press a kiss to them. The scent of my shampoo mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood clings to my senses.
I move lower, my hands sliding over her back, her waist, the curve of her hips.
I’m careful, so fucking careful. But it doesn’t stop the heat from coiling low in my gut, the way my body reacts to the feel of her skin, the shape of her that I know too well.
It’s instinct, muscle memory that I can’t control, and guilt prickles beneath the surface. This isn’t about that. Not now.
But God, it’s hard not to respond to her, with her curves fitting so perfectly against me. I clench my jaw, focusing on the rhythm of the water and the softness of her breath, willing my body to behave.
She shifts, pressing closer, and I bite back a groan, the sensation of her against my hardening cock sending tingles through me. She doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in her exhaustion, but I feel every inch of where her body molds to mine.
Slipping inside her would be so damn easy.