34. Honey
Honey
I did what Lazarus asked. I didn’t think it would hurt so bad, but it does. I didn’t think I could ever be more humiliated than when I was with the House of Apostles. I’m just as helpless as I’ve ever been.
Zephyr carries me the whole way back to the apartment. His shadow is so dark around me that I can hardly see as he walks. Not that I need to. I know these halls from the trips through them. But the closeness is nice. It’s much warmer than it was down in the basement.
Phoenix opens the door for us, and once he’s inside, he orders with a firm, thick command, “Go get dressed, put on pants and a long-sleeve shirt. Then put your hair in a braid or a bun.”
It’s a command. It’s meant for me. But it’s cold and unlike how he’s ever treated me before.
Zephyr carries me across the threshold, and when the door is closed behind us, he sets me on my feet.
My body is stiff, and my heart beats fast. I’m wearing nothing but the well-worn hooded sweatshirt and the tears that fell down my face. Why are they being like this? Are they mad at me? I shiver against the coldness of his actions, or maybe it’s just how few clothes I’m wearing.
Backing away from him, I make my way to my room. Opening the door, entering, and finally closing it all while never giving him my back. The door between us feels like a piece of paper, barely strong enough to really do more than imply safety and security.
I’m stuck standing there, staring at the little protection it provides, when a knock so faint I’m not even sure it’s on my door raps against the faux wood.
“Honey, it’s me,” Zephyr whispers.
My hand hesitates over the knob while my brain battles with the decision to open it or leave it closed.
“It’s okay, I promise. I’m here to help.”
He has hands. He could open the knob. It’s not like the door locks. But he’s giving me the choice.
I want to feel safe. Something changed, and Phoenix didn’t seem safe. Lazarus isn’t safe. But Zephyr hasn’t hurt me.
I twist the doorknob and pull the door open just a fraction of the way before stepping back.
Zephyr pushes it open with the flat of his hand, controlling how steadily it opens. When it’s halfway, he slips in and closes it behind him.
Nothing about me is strong anymore. The apostles would send me to sequestering if I cried, but it’s too hard not to.
Tears stream down my face, and Zephyr pulls me into his arms. I’m struggling to breathe, and Zephyr just lets me silently sob into his shoulder.
Every partial breath I’m able to pull in is filled with his tart apple smell.
I quietly cry for at least five minutes before I’m able to draw a breath without gasping. Zephyr’s careful comfort brings me the most relief from my tears. He separates us just a bit so that I can see his face and he can see mine.
“He didn’t mean to upset you. He’s . . .
upset. He’s upset with what happened to you.
He just wants to go out on the bikes and simultaneously wants to make sure you’re safe.
” Zephyr wipes tears off my face with the pads of his thumbs.
“We don’t understand why you don’t want to be with us. Why don’t you want us to keep you?”
The tip of my tongue burns to tell him why this all happened.
A tiny part of me wants to point the blame and scream at the top of my lungs that it’s not me.
That I want to stay, but I’m afraid. It’s not fear of Lazarus’s anger toward me but of the twins’ reaction to him.
They seem to have so much faith and trust in him. What if what I tell them shatters it?
“I’ll stay.” I nod against his hand and look him in the eyes, which are wet, rimmed with moisture and unshed tears.
How beautiful it is to see an alpha expressing emotion catches me off guard.
Zephyr blinks away tears but then pulls me close. He kisses me, his tongue pushing into my mouth, and it’s not like a kiss that leads to something dirty, it’s full of . . . love?
“Come on, I know the bikes are loud and kind of scary, but we’ll keep you safe. We won’t let anything hurt you.” Zephyr slides his hand down my neck, trails it down my arm, until our fingers are interlaced. “Let’s get you into some of my clothes so you don’t have to get yours all dirty.”