34. Lincoln
34
Lincoln
Hard pressure on my back brings me back to consciousness while the soft snores breathed against my neck give me clarity as to where I am: cocooned in Seraphina’s bed with the little thorn wrapped around me like a life preserver.
More accurately, she’s attempting to big-spoon me.
“So much for staying on your side, cierń,” I whisper as I move from her hold, turning to my back so that I can see her better. Early morning light streams in from the window across from the bed, giving me an unobstructed view of Seraphina’s smooth, olive skin and dark lashes. Remnants of smeared makeup are on her cheeks and beneath her eyes, but I have no doubt that the rest of her paint is on the back of my shirt, where she apparently snuggled against me all night.
I can think in the silence. Like a reel, the words she whispered last night about Mitch come crashing back, and my anger starts to form again, surging to the surface like a vile, tangible thing. How fucking dare he approach her and force her to relive the worst moments of her life. I know there’s more she isn’t telling me, and while part of me wants to respect her privacy and let her keep her secrets—
Okay, who the fuck am I kidding? No part of me wants to respect her privacy on this. I want to protect her and make sure that nothing harms her again.
Lifting my hand, I let my fingers play over the strands covering her cheek before pushing them back. She’s so damn beautiful it hurts.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Seraphina mumbles, turning her face into the pillow as she speaks. “What time is it?”
I snort at her display. “Early. Probably six, six thirty.”
“Ugh. Go back to sleep.”
I roll my eyes at her whining and rip the covers from her body, reveling in the goosebumps that break out along her bare legs. There was a pillow barrier between us, but somehow, Seraphina tossed all the lush fabric onto the floor, and now, nothing separates her body from mine.
“No, don’t do that,” she complains, reaching down for the blanket I moved just out of reach. “Lincoln!”
“How do you feel, cierń?”
“Cold and annoyed to be awake.”
“You know what I mean.”
She huffs and sits up, pushing aside my arm to reach for the comforter. Bringing it over her legs, she stares down at me with the cutest damn scowl. “I’m fine. I didn’t drink much, but it hit me all at once.” She shrugs, looking at her hands before she continues, “I was upset last night.”
“I know. And how do you feel now?” I repeat. If she were to ask me the question, I’d tell her I’m just as angry about Mitch’s confrontation as I was last night. But it’s not about me. It’s about her.
“Frustrated, upset. Like I can’t breathe if I think about it for too long. But mostly, I’m nervous about Olivia. I have to tell her, but I-I don’t know how.”
Reaching over, I grab one of the hands she’s staring at and squeeze. “What happened to Olivia, Seraphina?”
She bites down on her lip, presumably considering how best to respond to my question or if she even should. Long minutes stretch, and I almost retract my question to tell her that I understand if she can’t or won’t talk about it, but then she opens her mouth. “Do you remember that camp I was supposed to go to? The one that’s some science camp for rich kids?”
I nod my head because how could I fucking forget? “Yeah.”
“I didn’t go. Mitch was in my past by that point. But Olivia went. It’s funny because I would have met Liv that summer instead of at school, and I wonder what she would have been like. Hurt changes you, you know? You transfer, become more guarded. I only know Olivia after, not before. The Liv I know is strong and resilient, a perfectionist, and so damn smart. It doesn’t make sense why she’s wasting away slinging drinks behind a bar instead of doing what she loves. Anyway.” She shakes her head and takes a breath. “Mitch and Chris were there that summer, and th-th-they hurt Liv. She didn’t—I don’t—that’s to say,” she stutters, clearing her throat. “They took from her that summer, hurt her beyond comprehension, and now when she seems to be open to really living life, they barge back in. I don’t care about myself, not with this. It’s Olivia who concerns me.”
I can’t help the growl that releases from my throat or the way my hand squeezes hers in a tight grip. “Let’s get one thing absolutely clear, cierń. If anyone hurts the woman I love—Mitch or some other asshole—I will show them that my knife skills aren’t just for show. Do you understand that?”
Releasing her hand, I push the blankets off my body and stand, rounding the bed until I’m right in front of Seraphina and grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to stand up. Spinning us around so that her back is to my front, I meet her eyes in the mirror on the opposite side of the bed. “This face, cierń.” I grip her jaw, squeezing lightly. “This face, this body, this heart, and your soul are important to me. So stop pretending like your safety doesn’t matter just as much as your friend’s because I won’t tolerate that shit again.”
Her eyes are wide as they meet mine in the mirror. “Love?”