Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Swords were clashing. The sounds of war were nothing like what I had imagined.
Did I expect the sound of sword on sword?
Of course. I never conceived the volume of them doing so and had never, ever stopped to consider the other sounds.
Not only the battle cries, but the screams of the dying, the moans of the wounded.
The sound of warriors mindlessly calling for their mothers in their last moments.
Not any warriors. My warriors. My kinsmen. Oh my gods.
Mine.
They’re mine.
I come to, with a start. I realize that Flint has gently put me down on the couch and is going around the apartment, flooding the room with light.
I guess he didn’t get tired of carrying my ass, after all.
I’m almost sorry to have missed it. Seems a shame that a handsome man carried me all the way home, for me to just fall asleep.
His face is set in angry or concerned lines. I honestly can’t tell at this point. I don’t know if he’s upset because Brett is a crotch blossom, or if he’s mad at me for some reason. The room is still swimming in a very suspicious manner so I’m probably not the best judge at the moment.
‘It's both.’ Calida continues to be very adolescent and totally unhelpful.
‘What did I do?’ I send back.
‘Are you serious?’
This bitch. I feel half hammered and she’s asking asinine questions.
‘Yes, I’m serious. For fuck’s sake. Why is he pissed at me? Hello? I’m the victim here!’ I snark back. My head feels like it is going to explode.
‘Why were you out there alone? Do you know how terrifying it was to have you scream for both of us and then go silent?’
Shit.
I feel like I should get points for calling for help because, hello, a year ago that would have been the type of belief that landed me on an unwanted grippy sock vacation. Besides, after my call for help, I was a little preoccupied.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
Apparently Calida has had no issue picking up the lingo.
‘Rather than wait for Flint or insist Anne wait — and where the fuck was she — you decided to go out, alone and unprotected?’
Wow.
I don’t have time to give Calida’s anger the attention it deserves, however, because Flint’s comes crashing down on me.
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” he snaps out, like a slap across my face.
“N– no.” I somehow manage to stutter.
Apparently he isn’t willing to take my word for it because he squats in front of me and slowly unbuttons my cardigan.
Booksellers and therapists — what is it with the cardigans?
He eases the sweater off my shoulders and I know he doesn’t miss the wince when I move to help him because, somehow, the scowl on his face deepens even further.
I feel more than see his internal wince and look down.
Outlined on my arms, despite my tattoos, are two perfect imprints of that twatwaffle’s hands.
Flint promptly shoves himself up and paces around the room, which is now feeling smaller than ever, his fury taking up physical space.
I can feel the anger radiating off of him and I can swear that his eyes are glowing with rage.
I just can’t tell who he’s angry at — I’m choosing to hope Calida is wrong while knowing she isn’t — and, frankly, I’m rapidly feeling too tired to care.
Fighting off the floaty feeling is getting to be too much.
It feels like waves of heat are rolling through my body.
Flint abruptly comes to a halt and his body stiffens.
Turning his attention back to me, I notice his eyes are indeed simmering with an inner fire, making the already impossible blue deeper, sharper.
Predatory. He seems to come back to himself and shakes his head.
He comes back to me, scooping me up and settling me on his lap.
While the waves of heat seem to be backing off, being pressed against his body is making me warm in other ways.
The heat of his body is soothing. He emits the feeling of safety with every breath.
I can hear the steady thump of his heart from where my head is resting against his chest. He is softly petting my hair, both arms wrapped around me.
The calmness and feeling of being safe is making my eyes burn and my throat tight, while the horror of what could have happened, what almost did happen, hits like a freight train. Delayed reaction. “Oh shit,” I whisper. "Here it comes.”
He doesn’t need any further explanation. His arms tighten around me. “It’s okay, love. Let it go.”
He holds me close as I’m overcome, weeping out my terror, the feeling of helplessness, the anger. The storm of emotions breaks within me, wave after wave racking me. I bury my face against his chest and let it take me.
Flint is sitting next to me, my head on his hard thigh, his finger tips drawing patterns on the exposed skin of my back.
The sun is warm on my skin. The air is heavy with the tang of salt, the sweetness of flowers.
Birdsong surrounds us. I see that we’re in the clearing I’d imagined before; the one with the red willow trees.
Twisting my head, I study Flint. He is reading a book with one hand while the other continues to pet up and down my back.
He looks incredibly relaxed, beams of sunlight playing across his face.
His hair is messy, as though someone has been running their fingers through it.
His chest is bare, showing off the hard lines and planes of his chest, his abs.
Although I can’t see from this angle, he definitely has the hip V that makes girls stupid.
It’s my dream, after all. I wouldn’t dream of a Flint who didn’t have that.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes a moment for me to realize that, although I can hear Flint, his lips aren’t moving.
I’m watching his face and he is continuing to read his book.
As though he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his eyes to me and a smile lights his face.
The hand that was stroking my back, setting little fires up and down my spine, takes mine, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist. His eyes are playful as they meet mine.
I can still hear him speaking, soothing me.
I can feel his hand stroking my hair, which is impossible because I can see both of his. What the fuck?
I open my eyes and I’m still on Flint’s lap.
My couch, my apartment. Calida is watching us from across the room.
Flint’s shirt is damp under my cheek from the onslaught I unleashed on him.
He’s murmuring words of comfort, running his fingers through my hair.
I guess my evening of hallucinations isn’t over quite yet.
Maybe trauma makes for imagination fuel?
Ash is weeping against my chest, the sobs ripping through her body.
It was a hard won battle, but I’ve locked away the rage.
At least, for the time being. After what I walked in on when I returned to the shop, the last thing she needs to face right now is another angry male.
If I can just focus on taking care of her, we might both get through this without any further damage being done.
Seeing the bruises that piece of shit left on her arms…
I back away from that thought. Not the time.
I continue to whisper to her, holding her against me. There’s nothing else to be done until this has passed. I can feel the heat of her tears soaking my shirt and strangle back another wave of fury. It won’t help. Not now.
Her sobs eventually taper off. I ease my hold on her and tip her head back to see her face. What’s left of her makeup is streaked down her face. Her eyes are red and puffy. She is so beautiful.
“Let’s get you changed and in bed, yeah?” I ask.
“I think I want a shower first,” she says, softly.
“Okay. Why don’t you go get in the shower and I’ll leave some clothes for you on the sink?”
She looks around, dully. “Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay?”
I shake my head and swallow, the hold on my own emotions becoming more and more tenuous by the second. “No one expects you to be okay right now, least of all me. You don’t have to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything.”
I don’t bother waiting for her reply. While she’s gotten her initial crying jag out of the way, I don’t expect it will be the last and I think part of her is still in shock after the…
ordeal. I also expect that she won’t want me to go far, but she also needs a moment alone.
Deciding to decide for her, I scoop her up and carry her to the bathroom.
I set her on the lip of the tub and start the water for her.
I step out and return with what I’ve determined, after hours of observation, to be her favorite pajamas and a clean towel.
Depositing those on the sink, I turn to her to find her hugging herself as steam begins to fill the small space. “Do you need anything else?”
She shakes her head.
Biting back an oath, I squat down so our faces are level. Her eyes are bruised, dull. “I’m going to go make you some tea. It’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”
When she nods in acknowledgement, I push to my feet and leave her alone.
I wonder, off-handedly, if she’d notice my absence if I left long enough to skin a certain human male after I break every bone in his body.
‘Flint.’
“Not now, Calida.”
‘But Flint–’
“Really, Calida. Not now.”
‘FLINT! Is she okay?’
“She’ll be fine. She needs some time alone right now, that’s all.”
Calida hangs her head, sadly.
Fuck. Tonight, I have more than one female that needs taking care of.
Lifting my head from my hands, I spread my arms in welcome. Calida wastes no time in scooting onto my lap, and laying her head on my shoulder.