46. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
VERONICA
Gareth sits beside me, his fingers intertwined with my own. I know he isn’t comfortable in the old wooden chair, but he doesn’t complain. It’s been a fight for him to even be allowed in here with me when the twins need to eat. How he continues to slip in is beyond me, I don’t question it.
Without him, I’d be more mental than I am right now.
He’s aggravated, I can tell by the way his knee bounces every few seconds, making the chair creek. The motion rocks the bed slightly.
“Gare,” I murmur, and the shaking stops.
His chin tilts until our eyes meet, a tight apologetic smile rests on Gareth’s lips.
It’s only be a matter of time before he explodes on someone, probably Mary.
Even though he is two years younger, Gareth has taken the role of protective big brother.
I appreciate it, he knows I do, without needing to say it out loud.
Gareth gives my hand a squeeze while he turns toward me, knees touching the side of the bed.
His blue eyes assess me silently, the usual snark kept to a scary minimum.
At first, I was grateful he was being so caring and understanding.
He isn’t the same boy back in the village, instead one too scared to break me further.
Now, all I want is for him to start talking back.
Maybe that would snap me out of the funk I’m drowning in.
“Maybe after this we can go outside? It’s nice out.” He muses, distracting me from the familiar tug on my breasts.
I tighten my hold on his hand so I don’t try to reach out.
The last time I did that, my wrists were strapped down to the bed.
Gareth’s eyes dart to my free hand, my arm draped above my head, letting my wrist rest on my temple.
No matter how many times I do this, it doesn’t get easier. If anything, it’s getting harder.
Just like when I had the twins, there is a curtain draped between me and them. Now, instead of being laid over my abdomen it comes to my clavicle.
The coos of Lilith vibrate against my breast as she suckles gently.
I know it’s her because she doesn’t attack my nipple like Jameson does.
His lips are harsh against my left breast, trying to intake as much milk as he possibly can from the tiny pores.
I want to touch them, to hold them as they nurse.
There is no warmth against me, the two housemaids on either side hold them off my skin. I imagine they are cocooned in a silk cloth to keep their small hands from reaching out. This is all I can do for them. They will never know me, only take what they need until I’m discarded.
My chest tightens, dark thoughts swirl, clouding any chance of positivity that lingered underneath. The soft touch of Gareth’s thumb against my cheek is the only thing grounding me. I lift my gaze to his, registering that I’m crying. All I do is cry, break.
I’ve known pain, endured it many times. I watched my mother lowered into the ground, held my uncle’s hand as he took his last breath. The pain I felt then was nothing compared to this.
This pain... is excruciating.
It’s all consuming, taking the happiness, I clung to desperately, and drowning it in the deepest lake.
A broken sob bubbles out of my throat. I tilt my head back, allowing my eyes to close in attempt to calm myself. When will this get easier? It’s been three months, every day harder than the last. I’ve always considered myself as a strong person, but I’m crumbling quickly into nothing.
Cool air rushes against my bare chest, the sensation has me sucking in a sharp breath. They just got here, it hasn’t been long enough. The twins will still be hungry, they will—
Blinding light leaks from the open windows, and I flinch instantly, my eyes squeezing tightly shut.
The clatter of metal hitting marble rings throughout the room.
Frenzied footsteps and the wail from each twin has my stomach twisting into knots.
Gareth’s fingers tug free, the chair he was sitting on flies backward until it crashes with a loud thud.
The loss of his touch is overwhelming, I open my eyes, only to freeze completely.
Sebastian is standing at the side of my bed, his hazel eyes dark with an anger that pierces through me.
His jaw is tense, flexing every few seconds as if he is trying to get control over the rage building inside him.
Every bit of air drains from my lungs; I can’t breathe properly.
It’s as if I am staring at a different person, one I’ve never met.
A faint scar rests across Sebastian’s tanned cheek, his eyes heavy with the sights he can’t unsee. War hardened him. The broad shoulders he carried are somehow broader, stronger. The collared shirt he wears, fits tightly against his chest, showing his pectorals. Even his arms look larger.
What I come to focus on is his hair.
It no longer curls under his ears, there is no wave to it, no life.
The sides are cut short, while the top is longer and slicked back, out of his face. No stray strands fall into his honey eyes. No perfectly parted placement to the left.
His eyes hold mine. It’s only as Gareth clears his throat, Sebastian rips his gaze away, wincing as if it physically hurts to do so.
Confusion licks between his brows and he looks at Gareth like he wants to kill him.
The fire behind those hazel eyes grows, Sebastian’s chest puffs in a display of raw dominance.
If Gareth is fazed, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t back down, blue eyes narrowing in on Sebastian. I’ve seen Gareth in many forms, but never like this.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sebastian snarls out, his voice lethal.
Gareth steps closer to the bed until he’s practically sitting beside me. “The one who has been here, that’s fucking who.” His voice stays sharp, unwavering as he clashes with Sebastian.
For a moment, I watch Sebastian’s face falter.
No one speaks to him the way Gareth just has.
It startles him, showing a flash of vulnerability, before Sebastian resumes his glare.
My pulse quickens as silence fills the space between them.
The hatred building is instantly suffocating, it wafts in the air, combining both of their distinct scents together.
Teakwood and ebony musk for Sebastian. Bergamot and blueberries for Gareth. They clash, making my nostrils burn.
“Do you have any—”
“Enough,” I find my voice, it’s shaky, a borderline rasped whisper, but it’s enough to cut Sebastian off.
Both of their head’s snap toward me, their eyes equally wide, and filled with fury. If they stay in the same room, one might kill the other.
Or die trying.