33. Seraphina
33
Seraphina
I didn’t tell Lincoln everything Mitch did or said.
I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because the words lodged in my throat the moment I thought to say them.
I didn’t tell Lincoln that Mitch pinned me against the door in a similar way, except that instead of feeling secure like I do in Lincoln’s arms, I felt like my skin was crawling.
I didn’t tell him that he grabbed at my throat and squeezed, cutting off my flow of oxygen in a way that told me he could have killed me if he really wanted to.
None of those confessions passed my lips, though I know they have to. I told my parents what he did, his threats, and how after he delivered them and laughed at my obvious fear, he walked off with the unhurried ease of someone with no cares. Someone completely at ease. I think that’s what made me the most repulsed: not his hands on my skin or the words he shot at me, but the unbothered way he spoke.
There was something cool and calculated in his eyes, a detachment that wasn’t there four years ago.
My parents told me they’d call the officer who handled my case in high school and then promptly begged me to come home and hide while they reinforced the restraining order I have against Mitch. I told them I wouldn’t run away, wouldn’t lose the life that I’ve created for myself because Mitch is back.
Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the reality that Mitch Abernathy is haunting me like an unwelcome ghost. But tonight, I’ll lose myself in Lincoln and pretend that Mitch’s reappearance isn’t real, that the threat he poses to Olivia is fake, and my anxiety is abated.
“Let’s get inside,” he offers, holding out his hand for me to take. I slide my palm against his, unhesitant and sure. I’m not concerned as he weaves through the parking lot, up the front steps, and to the elevator. Even when he selects my floor and waits beside me as the metal cube ascends, I’m not worried.
He’s never been here before; he shouldn’t know the first thing about my living arrangements. Yet, he does, and I have my sister and future brother-in-law to thank for that.
As soon as the elevator doors slide open, I step into the hall and lead Lincoln down the corridor until we arrive at my door. I release his hand and fish my key out of my purse, jamming it into the lock without finesse. My buzz from earlier has worn off, leaving me a mess of thoughts and feelings, and I wonder if Lincoln will help distract me, either with more alcohol… or something else.
I feel the door unlock as I turn the key and press down on the handle.
It’s then that all the concern I should have felt at Lincoln’s intimate knowledge of my apartment complex comes surging forward.
Except, it has nothing to do with Lincoln and everything to do with the scene in front of me. The very naked scene of my sister grinding on a man’s lap.
Did I mention naked?
Very, very naked.
“Holy fuck,” I screech, covering my eyes. “Bianca!”
I hear a bang followed by grunts and nervous laughter. “What are you doing home?”
“I live here, Bianca. Why are you naked?”
“I live here,” she mimics. “We’re covered. You can stop acting like your retinas are burning.”
Dropping my hand, I open one eye, relieved to see both Bianca and her stranger have blankets draped over them. I’ll have to burn them and the couch. The blankets, not the people.
Looking at my sister’s face, I realize there’s a hollowness there that’s never been present before. She looks tired, and it strikes me that I’ve been so consumed with my own problems that I really haven’t stopped to consider hers. Releasing a sigh, I look toward Lincoln and see the humor on his face. “It’s not funny.”
“Kind of is, cierń.”
“B, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” I ask, ignoring Lincoln.
“Fine.” Bianca gets up, readjusting her blanket as she stands. I watch her walk to the breakfast counter and lean against the granite, the blanket dwarfing her body as she hunches over. Lifting my hand, I wave at Lincoln, silently letting him know I need a minute, and walk to my sister.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”
“B,” I groan at her tone, lowering my voice. “Have you been drinking? Do I need to kick this guy out?”
“Have you been drinking?” She raises an eyebrow, volleying my question back at me.
“Dammit, Bianca. Stop answering my questions with questions. Just answer two questions. Did he take advantage of you, and do you want him out of this apartment?”
“No, but.” She looks over her shoulder, dropping her voice before answering, “Yes.”
I nod once, turning on my heel and walking to the naked guy lounging on the couch as though he belongs there. “You. Time to go.” I bend down, grab the discarded jeans from the floor, and hold them out.
I’m not sure what I anticipate, but the half-hearted shrug isn’t it. Standing up, B’s guest drops the blanket, showcasing his semi-hard dick to the entire room.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, looking to the ceiling as Lincoln surges forward, grabbing the guy’s jeans from my hand and shoving them at his chest.
“Out. Now.”
“But, man, I need to find my shirt. It’s here somewhere. I know I saw it…” He trails off, turning around and bending over, inspecting the couch while we stand front row and open-jawed to his bare ass.
“Kev, we see your anus,” Bianca yells from across the room.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Lincoln grabs Kev’s arm, forcing him to stand straight, and drags him to the door. With one hand still clutching Kev’s arm, Lincoln wrenches open our front door and pushes him out, still completely naked with only a pair of jeans covering his dick. “Have a good night. Bianca will give you your shit tomorrow. Or whenever.” Lincoln throws it closed, leaving Kev confused and Bianca and me stunned.
“Avoid your neighbors for a few days. They’re probably scarred from his pale ass.” Lincoln huffs as he flips the lock, turning around to face us again. He leans back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at Bianca with a hard look on his face. “You want to tell us what’s going on?”
Bianca’s eyes flit from Lincoln to me and then back to Lincoln. “Oh no. Does anyone want to tell me why Simmons is acting like a second big brother, or do I need to fill in the blanks?”
I’m sober now. Absolutely sober. And also annoyed.
“Go to bed, B. We’ll talk in the morning.” I sigh, my voice as resigned as I feel. Bianca opens her mouth, no doubt tempted to argue with me, but something on my face must indicate that I’m not in the mood for whatever verbal sparring she’s gearing up for. With a nod and a hitch of her shoulders to adjust the blanket, she turns and disappears into her bedroom and shuts the door quietly behind her.
Lincoln and I stand quiet for a moment, listening to the banging happening just behind her door. It takes a few minutes for Bianca to settle, and once there’s no sound emitting from her room, I turn to Lincoln.
“Are you staying?”
“Yes.” One word, that’s all that’s needed for me to bite down on my lip and walk to my room, leaving the door open for him to follow me inside.
I make it to my bed when I hear the soft shutting of the door, followed by the click of a lock. When I turn around, Lincoln is in the same position he was in at the front door, except this time, his green eyes blaze. With a silent challenge, I unbutton my top button and work my fingers down my collared shirt, moving slowly as I stare at him.
I’m on the final button when his words still my fingers. “I’m not touching you tonight.”
Swallowing at the rush of disappointment, I finish my final button and shrug the shirt off, leaving me in a bra and ivory pants. “Okay.”
“You’ve been drinking,” he supplies, though I didn’t ask for it. “And if I put my hands on you, I won’t stop. I’ll tear down every goddamn wall you’ve built and sink into you. But I won’t do that when you’re drunk or even tipsy.”
“I’m not; I didn’t drink much.” It’s a lame explanation, and I know it’ll do nothing to change his mind. Though, truthfully, his morals are a turn-on.
“Good. That means you won’t be miserable and hungover in the morning. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I laugh at his statement. “It’s a queen. We can share.”
His head shakes before I finish my sentence. “Give me a pillow and a blanket, and I’ll be fine.”
Huffing, I reach behind me and pull the first pillow I find and offer it to him, along with a throw at the foot of my bed. It may be the beginning of a humid summer in New Jersey, but in my apartment, it’s a balmy sixty-eight. There’s no way that Lincoln will be comfortable with a thin throw on the hardwood floor.
I don’t argue with him though. Instead, I finish undressing, stripping down until I’m in my bra and boy shorts, and walk to my dresser to grab an oversized T-shirt.
“Fuck,” I hear Lincoln mutter while his eyes burn into my skin, overheating me with their perusal. Turning back around, I find Lincoln still standing by the door with a clenched jaw and even tighter fists at his side. Like a magnet, I let my gaze fall to his pants and bite down on my lip at the bulge inside his jeans.
“Stop looking at me like that, cierń. Put on the shirt and get under the goddamn covers.”
His deep voice startles me, and I jump to action, catching the shirt he tosses at me and pulling it over my head before diving under the blankets. My bra pinches me and I stall, debating the merit of removing my underwear and bra for comfort, or preserving the shred of modesty I have. I shift again, and the underwire bites into me, making my decision for me. Lowering my eyes, I reach beneath the shirt and unhook my bra, pulling the straps through the sleeves of the shirt before kicking off my boy shorts and shoving them toward the foot of the bed.
I try to be as inconspicuous as possible, but based on his smirk and raised brow, he knows exactly what I just did. I stop fidgeting, and my stillness and covered position seem to give him permission to move, and he stands from the door, slowly moving to my desk where pictures of me, Liv, and my family are on display, along with books, my laptop, and a collection of rose-themed stationery.
“You writing a lot of letters, cierń?” he muses, fingering the thick paper.
“No, but I like how it looks.”
“Why black roses?”
I shrug, blushing under his scrutiny. “I started growing Black Magic roses after I took an intro to botany class, and part of the course was the language of flowers. CeCe was always into it, and she would talk nonstop about the meaning of this flower and that, but I never paid attention until I had to.”
“What does a Black Magic rose mean?”
I look away from him as I answer. “Strength and to stop living in darkness. New beginnings and…” I pause, clearing my throat before I continue, “Revenge.”
“Good. You deserve vengeance.”
I nod, leaning back against my pillows as I do. “I’m not the only one.”
Most people would press, ask me what I mean and seek more information. But Lincoln’s not most people. Instead, he sets my stationery down, turns to face me, and offers me a tight smile. “No, you’re not. But you’re not alone, cierń. And remember, you’re a fucking thorn, not a rose.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel good about myself?” I raise a brow, snorting at his words.
“Fuck yes, it is. You’re beauty and strength and fucking perfection. You’re not a delicate, wilting flower. You’re stronger than that, tougher. Never fucking forget it.” He stops to pick up a stuffed rabbit at the end of my bed. “Cute,” he muses before tossing it back down. “Go to bed, Seraphina. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Lincoln grabs the pillow and blanket on the floor, spreading it out before lying on top. He must be uncomfortable, and my guilt takes over.
“Please lie in bed, Lincoln.”
“No.”
Exhaling heavily, I sit up in bed and look down at him. “I’m not going to be able to sleep with you on the floor.”
“Close your eyes and try.”
“No.”
“Seraphina,” he growls, the exasperation evident in his voice. “Go to sleep.”
“Look.” I turn my body and start gathering pillows. “I’ll make a pillow wall. You won’t even have to touch me. Please?”
For a minute, he remains silent, and I’m convinced that he’s thinking of another way to deny me. But instead, he concedes. “Fine, but stay on your damn side, Seraphina.” Lincoln stands from his place on the floor and walks around my bed, careful to leave a wide berth between us as he climbs into the other side of the bed. “I’m serious, cierń. Stay on your side because I’m not touching you tonight.”
I nod against my pillow, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “Okay.”
“Sleep, Seraphina. We’ll talk in the morning.”