Chapter 30
Lynn
Itrapped my tongue between my teeth and reined in the violent, detailed threat but it was a close call.
The therapist Cobra arranged to visit the compound once a week was called Delight, and she lived up to her name with every session.
She was the most patient, kind, and understanding woman I’d met—and I’d met Mercedes so that was really saying something.
Her lack of judgement and steady understanding made it both easier and harder to drag up everything that happened in my past. My natural instinct to her patient smile was to find her weakness and use it to destroy her, but she was trying to help me.
I told myself that over and over, curling my hands into fists, even if my stomach clenched.
“You’ve made good progress already in such a short time,” she praised, her deep brown eyes moving from me to Cobra, light catching on the gold eyeshadow she wore.
Bangles on her brown arms matched the metallic shadow, as did her chunky necklace and earrings, and the belt she wore around a navy blue dress.
She’s being genuine, not patronising, I reminded myself, swallowing down words.
“Both of you,” Delight added. “I know this isn’t easy, but you’re already speaking about it much easier than our first session.”
Yeah, the first day was a special kind of hell. I’d barely been able to force the words out. Cobra had stormed out with a wild panic in his eyes, even if it was his idea to start therapy. I’d found him curled up in the shower with the water on scalding and his knees to his chest, head in his hands.
“Thanks,” Cobra rasped now, avoiding eye contact from both of us, his body tensed.
As if he needed to run again, to put distance between him and the words he’d spoken today—graphic, violent descriptions of the first time he’d woken up cuffed to a bed with a man standing over him.
The first client, he said, until Delight gently told him the word client implied consent, and since he didn’t consent he should call a spade a spade.
Nicer than that, obviously, because she was a total delight. “See you next week. I need some air.”
I watched Cobra stand. “Do you want me to come with?”
He shook his head abruptly. “I’ll find you in a few minutes.”
I caught his hand as he turned away, squeezed it once before I let go and gave Delight a wincing smile. “I’d say thank you for today, but I’m not feeling so grateful.”
“I appreciate the sentiment anyway,” she replied, unbothered by my tone, because she was a damned angel.
We’d been having joint sessions for two months now, and she’d yet to lose her temper even once.
That was probably a therapist thing, but I didn’t know how she did it.
The new shrink Knight had the same demeanor, too.
“Call me if you need to book an extra session.”
I jerked my head in a nod and let myself out of the living room we used in the east wing. Delight could let herself out; she was well used to us walking out by now.
I wanted to go to Cobra, but we’d done this enough times by now that I knew giving him some time alone was the best choice.
So I dragged myself away from the back door and aimed my rough, angry steps towards the gym.
Of course, I wasn’t angry, not really. I was on edge and shaky and I wanted to scream with the memories breathing down my back.
When I closed my eyes, it was a constant reel of barn nightmares and basement nightmares.
But Delight said I’d done well today, and I was desperate enough for signs that this was getting better that I’d take anything.
“Ugh, not you,” I groaned when I strolled through the door and saw Devil at the bench press.
“I was literally here first,” he quipped, giving me a quick once-over to judge whether I was in attack mode. “You doing alright?”
“I’d be doing a whole lot fucking better without having to rake everything up once a week,” I muttered, which wasn’t strictly true but therapy was an obvious target when it made me feel like this.
“Want to rant about it?” Devil leaned across to pat my arm when I sank onto the bench beside him, his hand as slick as a fucking puddle.
“Jesus fucking—” I snarled, ripping away and wiping my arm. “Keep your sweaty hands to yourself.”
“My sweaty, reassuring hands,” he corrected with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Keep going and they’ll be dismembered hands,” I threatened, changing the weight of the equipment and laying my hands on the pads. “What’s up?”
“With me? Nothing. I’m fine.”
I scoffed. “Oh yeah, sure, you always have that dead look in your eyes.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, the clang of his reps falling silent as she sighed and slumped. “Jess wants nothing to do with me.”
Now it was my turn to sigh. “What did you do?”
Devil raked both hands through his messy blonde hair. “I told her.”
“And she gave you hell for keeping it secret all this time?” I guessed.
“She hates me,” he confirmed miserably, his blue eyes full of hurt.
“There’s nothing about you to hate,” I dismissed. “She’s just angry. You know Jessia, she’ll come around. She’s the forgiving sort.”
“She pointed a knife at me.”
I laughed, the sound echoing around the gym. “Nice.”
He threw a betrayed look my way. “Who’s side are you on?”
I relaxed my body, gritting my teeth at the burn in my shoulder blades. “Mine.”
“Harsh.”
“That’s why you like me.”
He huffed, sliding a look my way. “You’re sure she’ll forgive me?”
“Give her a week, then I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“What a saint you are.”
I grinned, a little forced with the darkness still filling my head. “Can I get that in writing?”
“It was sarcasm.”
“But still very sweet.”
He rolled his eyes hard, pushed on the pad and grunted at the strain on his arms. “How are you and Cobra?”
“Fine.” Well, we were both mentally fucked and still dealing with nightmares on a daily basis, and he was completely paranoid about losing me, but our relationship was more solid than ever.
“Fine?”
“Fine,” I confirmed. His eyes lasered to the side of my face. “Really fucking great, actually.”
“Good.” There was a smile in his voice; I snuck a glance over at him and found him watching me fondly. Ugh. “I’ve never known two people better suited for each other. You’re like clones of each other.”
“Oh, fuck you. My hair wants an apology. Right now.”
Devil barked a laugh. “My gravest, sincerest apologies to your hair.”
I nodded. “Good.” I saw the exact moment he sobered and said, “Don’t.”
“Fine, I won’t.” Another hand dragged through his hair. “But do you need anything? Anything at all. Just say the word. Those fuckers are all dead now, but if you want to talk, or spar, or—shit I don’t know, start a group knitting project? Tell me, yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about crocheting little dolls. I think they’d really help me recover.”
“I know you’re bullshitting me, but I am so fucking down. You can crochet a black cat, and I’ll make a golden retriever.”
I gave him a blank look.
“It’s us,” he insisted.
I snorted. “You’re definitely not a golden retriever. More like a ferret. A rabid one.”
His stare flattened, mouth in a hard line. “I’m a rabid ferret?”
“Yup.”
“I fucking hate you.”
I snickered.
He stood from the bench in a rush. “Do you want a hotdog? I want a hotdog.”
“That better not be a euphemism.”
“I’ll bring you one,” he offered, a little manic.
I saw why a moment later when ChaCha strode into the room.
Apparently he expected her to be more stabby with him over upsetting Jessia than me.
She didn’t even glance his way though, fixing her attention on me, a pinch to her brow that made my chest tighten.
“Something’s off with Cobra.”
I was on my feet in an instant, my muscles protesting the sudden movement. I’d deal with any soreness later; now I ran out the door with ChaCha and Devil trailing me.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“Not a clue. I caught him burning shit, and that’s never a good sign.”
I never should have left him alone.