Chapter 26 #2
“Why don’t you go out for a flight?” I suggest, petting her and wrapping her in a soothing spell to calm her nerves. “The fresh air will make you feel better and by the time you get back, she’ll be done in the shower and we’ll all be ready to settle in. I’ll order something for dinner.”
‘If you’re sure…’
"I am. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Calida takes me at my word, making her way to the window and taking off into the night. Thankfully, it’s dark enough that no one should notice her easily. I have enough problems right now.
I go to the kitchen and put the pot on the stove for Ash’s tea. I hear the shower kick on and hope it means that she’s actually getting in it. Water has always soothed her in a way very few things do.
Knowing she is otherwise engaged, I step out of the apartment and into the hallway. I run down the stairs and out the front of the building. Despite the relatively early hour, there’s no one on the street. Closing my eyes, I allow a fraction of my rage to flow out of me and into the world.
Cracks appear in the sidewalk at my feet, spider webbing the concrete.
The streetlights flare, some of the bulbs bursting in a shower of sparks.
Calling on the bit of wind that’s mine to draw on, I make a bubble around myself.
Once I feel the circle lock in place, I roar.
I roar out the absolute, soul searing rage.
The terror of seeing my female, mine, hurt.
The disgust that there are men like him, in every world, thinking they can take what they want and damn the consequences.
The guilt for not being there when she needed me.
The possibility of all he could have cost us — her, me, our people…
I roar until I feel my vocal cords rupture.
The look of terror on her face and then blankness. The restraint it took to not dismember him on the spot for causing her even an ounce of fear.
Walking into the bookstore, I sensed something was wrong even before I made it to the kitchen.
Seeing the look on her face… I wanted to tear him, limb from limb with my bare hands.
In this place, at this time, it would have caused more problems than it solved.
Especially for her. So I settled for tying his balls in a knot and humiliating him while my female, my one, my everything sat on the floor, like a broken doll.
Part of me wanted, so badly, in that moment to allow my baser instincts to guide me and burn him to ash with the fire that’s mine.
That limp dick, rapist piece of shit almost cost both of us everything.
I brushed against her mind in the few seconds it took me to cross the room and throw him off of her. A few moments, nothing more. But those few moments were enough to look and, more, to know.
That was all I needed. I could see the images of Goira playing in her mind. Of our spot by the river. Of battle.
He could have cost us everything.
I continue to roar. I feel my Fae healing kick in, repairing the damage, as my throat continues to rupture. The cycle continuing while I unleash as much of the wrath as I’m able.
It feels like hours pass as I settle for this purge of my own feelings.
It’s not enough. I want flesh and bone under my fists.
I want to feel the pieces of him breaking.
I want the scent of his blood staining the air.
It’s not enough, but it has to be, for now.
I need to get back to Ash. I need to be there.
I spit blood on the sidewalk, the only evidence of the damage I’ve self inflicted.
I let the air fall away and survey the damage I’ve wrought in the neighborhood.
I drag my hands through my hair and sigh.
I call on what I have of earth and persuade it to mend the sidewalk.
Unfortunately, I can do nothing about the lights, so hopefully the city people will chalk it up to a power surge.
With one last deep breath, I head back to the apartment.
The kettle is screaming when I enter. I hurry through making the tea and, just as I place a mug on the table, the bathroom door opens. Steam billows out and the love of all my lives appears.
She’s wearing the warm flannel sleep pants I know she prefers, her long hair wrapped in a towel.
Rather than the worn band tee I left her, she’s wearing one of the shirts Betsy purchased on my behalf.
The sight causes a lump to form in my throat.
She used to do this. The woman had enough clothes to clothe the continent, but she preferred to sleep in my clothes, claiming that they were roomier and made her feel safe.
I guess tonight that makes sense.
She comes and sits next to me on the couch. I gesture to her tea, encouraging her to drink.
Shit. I never ordered food.
“Are you hungry?”
She shakes her head, clasping the mug in both hands, as though she’s seeking warmth.
“I think you should eat something. What about soup?”
She makes a non-committal sound in her throat.
I take that as consent and grab my phone.
I was skeptical when she first showed me how to use this thing, but it’s proven to be invaluable.
Scrolling through the options for feeding us, I decide to make all the girls happy and order with abandon.
Since Betsy isn’t charging me rent (not that I’m living in the space she offered), saving my pay hasn’t been an issue.
I place my order and toss my phone onto the table.
Ash is finally sipping her tea. Taking that as a good sign, I find her remote and turn on one of her shows. If nothing else, the comfort of the background noise should soothe her. I watch from the corner of my eye as she unwinds her hair and begins to towel dry it.
“Do you want help?” I blurt.
Smooth. You fucking idiot. The last thing she probably wants right now is to be touched by anything male.
It didn’t occur to me when I carried her home.
My only thought then was to get her home, to get her to safety, to take care of her.
Right now though, it’s obvious, and I’m kicking myself for not considering it earlier.
She looks at me, surprised and if I had to guess, a little wary. She holds my gaze and I struggle not to look away. She is clearly looking for something and, I feel, is coming to some decision about me. She nods, shyly and I take the towel from her hands.
She picks up her tea and rearranges herself on the couch so her back is to me. I gather the long length of her rainbow and begin to work the water out. She has so much hair. I would say I’d forgotten, but I’ve forgotten nothing.
Placing the towel aside and picking up her pick, I begin to slowly comb through her hair. The smell of her shampoo fills the air and surrounds us. I gently untangle the ends, working my way up to her scalp, hesitant to cause her even a moment’s more discomfort tonight.
I can see her physically relaxing and a cursory glance in her mind shows that the adrenaline crash, shower and now this, is doing its job. She is slowly relaxing, although I worry about the rest of the evening. One problem at a time.
As I finish combing her hair, there’s a knock at the door. She starts.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “It’s just the food.”
I accept the delivery and take it to the kitchen. I note that she’s curling up on the couch, pulling the heavy throw over her lap. Good. She’s getting comfortable. She’s in her safe space. And she’s telling me, in every way but verbally, that I’m still her safe space.
My heart soars and I work to keep my expression sober. The odd range of emotions is battering against my restraint, in every way.
I dish up the soup, leaving the rest of the food in bags.
I serve Ash her dinner, chicken and noodle, which my mother always swore would fix anything that ails you.
I sit next to her and slowly eat my own dinner, acutely aware of Ash sipping on the broth in her bowl. I’m going to consider that a win. At least she’s eating something.
As I’m about to ask how she’s feeling, there’s a loud slam at the door.
I am immediately on my feet, as Ash starts again and draws into herself in the corner of the couch, shrinking into the cushions and making herself as small as possible.
Fuck.
Another slam rocks the apartment door.
What the actual fuck?!
I’m at the door in an instant and throwing it open.
Taking in the sight before me, I am completely dumbfounded.
After the mental kick, I get out of the way.
Calida comes across the threshold, backwards. Of course, she was using her tail to “knock” at the door. In her jaws, she is dragging a huge rose bush.
I stare.
Ash stares.
Calida struggles. The bush is more than four times her size.
She finally drags it to the middle of the living room, dragging plant roots and dirt with her. She deposits her prize in the middle of the floor.
She looks ridiculously proud of herself.
‘When humans are sick or sad, they get flowers. So I brought you flowers.’ She pauses. ‘Flint does it!’
And for the first time in hours, Ash cracks a smile.