Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grayson
“Carrie!” I bellowed, leaning over her thrashing body as she whipped her head from side to side on the pillow, crying out for me in horror. “Carrie, wake up!” I held her shoulders in a firm grip, pulling her upper body away from the mattress.
“Grayson! Grayson, please!” she screamed, just like she had in my own nightmares, the ones were she was in my place, receiving the same torture I’d been succumbed to.
I pulled her to my chest, holding her head against me, looking down at her. “Sunshine, wake up,” I clipped, my voice shaking with fear. “Wake up for me, baby. Open those eyes and let me see.”
Her body stopped shaking, and a second later, she was gasping for air as if she’d been drowned, her eyes shooting open. Fuck, I could drown in those baby blues, get lost in them forever.
“There she is,” I cooed, trembling as my heart pounded in my chest like a drum. “There’s my sunshine.” I pressed my hand against her cheek as she took in her surroundings. It only took a second, and then she was surging up, throwing her leg over my lap before shifting on top of me, burying her face in my neck as sobs wracked through her.
“Grayson,” she whimpered, the grief in her voice hitting me like a bullet, ripping through me, leaving nothing but a gaping hole. I felt her tears against my skin then, and I looked up to the ceiling, jaw tight, silently wondering why a fucking angel like her had to endure so much pain in her short life.
I put my hand on the back of her head, cradling her to me as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” I assured her softly. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
For how long, asshole? Once Hayes gets his proof, then all bets are off, and the Feds will come for you as soon as the news is out. Then what?
I was here now; that had to be enough.
Even though I knew it wouldn’t be, no amount of time would ever be enough with her. I needed forever and nothing less.
“He killed me, Grayson,” she muttered into my neck.
I stiffened, my muscles tensing and burning in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. “What did you just say?” I asked slowly. She didn’t lift her head to look at me like I expected her to; no, she only whispered the answer, the words ringing in my ear like a bomb going off.
“In my dream, Robert finally killed me.”
My throat burned as nausea swam in my stomach. My mind began to race, but I couldn’t find the words. There were so many things I could say, but nothing came out. The silence stretched for some time, but I continued holding her, soothing her, being there for her in the only way I could.
My eyes shot over to her window seat, remembering everything that occurred between us there and in this room. Dawn was approaching, the dark sky above turning gray. Both of us had barely gotten any sleep.
“They were all there,” she said, breaking the silence.
My brows came together, not taking my eyes from the bench. “Who?”
“All of his victims.”
Right. Enough of the no eye contact shit. Gently, I pulled her from me, gripping her chin so I could turn her face to mine. Our gazes met as I demanded, “What?”
She explained the dream to me—in vivid detail, and by the time she was done, there was only one thing I could say. “Carrie, when this is all over, I need you to promise me you’ll talk to someone.”
Those baby blues hardened, and she jerked out of my grip. “I’m not going back,” she breathed, panic etching across her features. “I won’t go back to that place.”
Confusion washed over me for a moment.
Then, it clicked.
Shaking my head, I rubbed my thumbs against her bare hips, the t-shirt I’d given her riding up. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying,” I told her, gently but firmly.
“Promise me,” she pleaded.
Fuck, she was killing me.
“I promise.”
A small wave of relief washed over her, but she tensed right back up when I said, “I’m talking about a therapist. You can go to one in person, or hell, Sunshine, they have ones you can talk to virtually.”
She stared at me, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine.
I brought a hand up to her face, stroking her skin. “You were healing, Carrie,” I began, my voice rough, laced with regret. “Then, everything got fucked, and you got dragged back down into that bastard’s darkness again.”
She swallowed, turning her head to look at the bench seat. When she said nothing, I added, “I promised the guys that when all this shit was over, I’d get some help too.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, chewing on the inside of her cheek now. “There’s nothing wrong with therapy, Carrie.”
“You don’t think I know that?” she shot back, looking at me again. “Believe, I know there isn’t, but when you’ve—when you’ve been through the kind of therapy I was forced to go through—” She cut herself off, looking back to the window seat.
I thought of all the notes and sessions in her file, the way the doctors denied her flowers, how she was locked in a room for over a year, rotting away. “No one will ever do that to you again,” I vowed darkly. “You have my goddamn word, Carrie.”
“I see him everywhere.” Her words were just above a whisper, like she only meant for me to hear them.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “What are you talking about? What do you mean?” I pressed. When she didn’t make eye contact, I got fed up and gently gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Answer me.”
“I saw him at Hallow Ranch. I saw him in your apartment,” she croaked. “And then tonight, right before I went upstairs, I saw him in the living room. Never, not once since his death, had I seen him, Grayson. I don’t know—I don’t know what to do.”
“This is a trauma response,” I explained.
“I want him to go away,” she pleaded, putting her hands on my chest. “I want him to go away. I want Brandon to disappear. I want—I want to go back in time. I should’ve never gone to the General Store. I should’ve stayed at work and waited for you.”
I pulled her to me again, holding her and kissing the top of her head. “I know, baby. I know.”
“You said I keep you warm,” she said suddenly, rising back up again.
“You do,” I confirmed.
“You said your life has never been warm. Why?”
I sighed. “You really want to talk about this now?” I asked.
“Would you rather us talk about it with a wall of bulletproof glass between us?” she returned.
I bit down on my jaw. Hard. “That’s not a fucking joke, Carrie.”
“I never said it was,” she quipped, “but we don’t have a lot of time left together and I want to know.”
Fuck it all to hell.
Banding my arms around her waist, I scooted us back until I was leaning against her iron headboard, not giving a single fuck about the discomfort. “My mom was a good mother,” I said, wanting to clarify that before I dove into this.
She nodded. “You told me she was.”
I didn’t look away from her eyes as I gave her what she asked for. “My mother was a single mother, mourning my father and trying to start a new life. She busted her ass to make sure I had clothes on my back, a roof over both of our heads, and food in my belly every damn day.” I paused, letting that sink in. Carrie waited intently. “She was also a human and at the end of a long work day, she didn’t necessarily have the patience to put up with a loud, energetic little boy.”
“Grayson,” Carrie breathed out quietly.
I held my hand up. “No, don’t do that. My childhood was great. My mother wasn’t abusive. She loved me, but she was worn the fuck out. I was a lot to handle. I also grew like a fucking weed and needed new clothes and shoes often. It was hard for her.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, remaining quiet as I let my hand fall. “There were times, you know, when I thought I was a burden to her because she didn’t love on me enough, didn’t pay enough attention to me. Yeah, it got to me, but then, I grew up and got over it.” I took a deep breath, looking out the windows again. “After I was tortured, the Marines sent me back home. While I was healing, I stayed with Mom, and during that time, we talked. About everything. About my childhood. All of it. She told me she suffered from postpartum depression.”
When I looked back at my woman, I saw nothing but understanding in her eyes. “Back then, it wasn’t widely known or diagnosed.”
She nodded.
“My mother loved me. She still does. That will never change, but my life has never been warm. Not until you.”
My sunshine girl looked like she was about to burst into tears—again—as she rasped, “You’re my home, Grayson.” My jaw loosened, my shoulders falling as I stared at her in awe, my heart skipping a beat. She raised her hand, gesturing to this room—the house. “Blue Beauty isn’t my home. You are.”
“Fucking hell, baby,” I grunted, pulling her forehead to mine and closing my eyes. “You’re killing me.”
“I don’t want to lose my home,” she admitted thickly. “I don’t want to lose you.”
My hand came to the back of her neck. “We don’t have to talk about this. You said you wanted to be selfish, Sunshine. Be fucking selfish with me. With us. Please,” I clipped, unable to handle the thought of the future.
She sniffled, dropping her hands and grabbing both of my forearms, bringing them in between us as we both stared down at them. The red and white snake. “Tell me about these then,” she requested. “I’ve always wanted to know, ever since that first night. They’re so beautiful.”
I gave in to her. “I got them after my first tour, after I was healed. The Marines sent me back to the States and they weren’t going to send me back. My superior officers thought I’d seen too much, but I wasn’t done, and there was no way in fuck I was leaving Mags over there by himself.”
A small, pretty smile formed on her face then. “You and Mags.”
“Me and Mags,” I repeated. Christ, I needed to call him, give him an update . “The Marines gave me a sense of purpose, of belonging. I wanted to go back, and after I was healed and mentally cleared, I got the go-ahead. A week before I was set to ship out, I was walking past a tattoo shop and just went in.”
“What do they mean?”
“They mean so many different things in so many different cultures, but the main meanings really stuck with me,” I explained. “The white snake symbolizes peace, and the red one symbolizes death and destruction.”
“The night Leo…” She trailed off. There was no need to fill in the blanks. “The night that you came back,” she tried again, “I remember you saying 'White Snake' into the phone.”
I nodded. “That’s one of our codes. That and Red Snake.”
“Have you ever had to use Red Snake?”
I leaned back, taking a second to soak in her raw beauty before giving her the truth. “Yes, the day you were taken. Before that, the night I came back to see you and Ash had been compromised.”
She waited for me to say more, reading me like a fucking book. Sighing, I explained, “White Snake is used when I or one of the men have to kill someone. We never kill for the sport of it; that’s not our style. However, we will kill to protect not only ourselves but the lives of innocents. We used White Snake because by killing someone, we’re purifying the Earth, getting rid of the trash.” The last word came out as a growl, but she didn’t flinch.
“And Red Snake?” she prompted.
“Red Snake means one of our own has been taken or worse, and we will do anything to get them back or avenge their death,” I said, not blinking.
She looked down to my tattoos, studying the red snake for a moment before moving to the white one. “That’s kind of poetic.”
My lips twitched. “Perhaps.”
Carrie looked over to the windows, her eyes on the early morning sky. “I don’t want to leave this bed,” she murmured, her gaze snapping back to mine. “I wish we could stay here forever, Grayson.”
I brought my hand up to cup her cheek. “I know, Sunshine.”
Instead of talking, she leaned forward, kissing me slowly. I let her have control for a few minutes before taking over, commanding her mouth as I rolled us, dropping my hips between hers as she whimpered for me. I smiled against her lips.
My sunshine.
My warmth.
“Wait, wait,” she breathed, pushing at my shoulders.
Immediately, I lifted myself up, giving her the space she needed. “What? What is it? Are you okay?” I asked out in a rush, worried I’d hurt her.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Are you going to make love to me?”
I blinked. “Yeah, baby, that was the plan.” When she said nothing, I demanded, “Why?”
“Because I want to do something to you first.”
I raised a brow as her eyes trailed the length of my scar. Before I could question her more, she said, “I-I want you in my mouth.”
My cock twitched in my sweats, and she sucked in a breath, letting me know she felt it. “Sunshine—”
“I want to taste you,” she pleaded on a breath.
Remaining quiet, I rolled over and leaned back against the headboard. “Come taste your cock then, baby,” I ordered gruffly.
She sat up, getting to her knees, eager. I jerked my chin. “I want you naked when you have your mouth around me. All of it. Off .”
A small sound left her as she lifted her shirt over her head, exposing her soft belly, breasts, and curves to me. I eyed the lilac laced underwear, already rock fucking hard. “Those too, Carrie.”