Chapter Twenty-Two #2
I don’t say anything aloud, but Monster must read the thoughts on my face, because he nods slightly and almost smiles. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Okay, Flower. You can stay.”
The next weeks are hard. Greyson stays in the hospital for three more days before the doctors release him, with the condition that he constantly has a nurse in the apartment, watching over him.
He tells them to go fuck themselves and instead elects to have one of his unit members in the apartment at all times.
Most often, it’s Tobias, though he’s occasionally replaced by Bryan—a tan giant who frightens me—and Elijah, a tatted up ex-military guy who cracks so many shitty jokes, Monster threatens to kill him.
Max only comes around once to check in on Monster. Monster tells Max to fuck off, and Max leaves shortly afterward.
After two weeks of having someone pretty much living at the apartment to look after Monster, he’s given permission to start working himself back into physical activity.
That’s when Max returns, but only for physical therapy.
There’s palpable tension between him and Monster, which makes their interactions extremely uncomfortable.
Fortunately, Max is damn good at what he does, and after a week of working with Monster, Greyson begins walking around on his own, without crutches. Apparently, Cain avoided everything major and debilitating when he stabbed Greyson in the thigh, so his wound should heal up faster than mine did.
His back is another story. The stitches come out, leaving behind angry red scar tissue. I know the wounds still pain Monster because he continues sleeping on his front, though he occasionally rolls over in his sleep.
On the third week of Greyson’s recovery, he startles awake in the middle of the night, while I’m sitting up beside him, reading.
Luci is purring away on my legs, his head resting on my thighs, but the black cat wakes up at the same time that Grey does.
Luci leaps to his feet, fur standing on end, and frantically glances around for an intruder to attack.
“It’s alright,” I tell Luci, petting him. He slowly begins to relax, but turns to give Greyson a glare that’s half-questioning, half-accusing. It’s almost like he’s saying, what the fuck?
While Luci is still by no means a fan of men—or humans in general—he has begun to soften toward Monster.
I think I inadvertently programmed Luci to be an emotional support cat, so there are times when I come out of the shower to find him curled up in a ball right beside Greyson, as if protecting the giant of a man.
He still doesn’t let Monster touch him unless I’m around, and even then, he hisses.
“Bad dream?” I ask Greyson, setting down my book.
He exhales a long breath and nods. “Yeah.”
I feel a slightly sad smile stretch my lips. “I get them, too.”
Monster gazes at me, hesitance and mild curiosity filling his gaze. “Mine are usually about Sam,” he says after a few beats. “I got them every time I closed my eyes for months after he died. They only really subsided when you came into the picture.”
I don’t touch that mine-field, because the first month of my… relationship? Captivity? With Monster consisted of near-constant torture, initially physical and then psychological.
“Mine are usually about my father,” I offer. “Cain gets the occasional cameo, too.” A faint shudder works its way down my spine, and Luci climbs back into my lap, nudging my chest with his head.
“What was he like?” Greyson asks. “Your dad, I mean. You’ve told me some stuff, but not the day-to-day.”
I start stroking Luci’s fur. “The best way to describe it is that I was forced to live in survival mode for years. I got so used to beatings that I would never fully recover from them—not psychologically, anyways. I just learned to dress my wounds and prepare for the next one.” I swallow.
“I’d still be there if it wasn’t for my brother.
Or, more likely, I’d be married to a man as bad as my father. ”
Monster’s silent for several long moments, digesting this.
“Sam and I didn’t have a very clean upbringing, either.
Our parents died when we were toddlers, and we grew up in foster care.
We were all each other ever had—we protected each other at all costs.
” He swallows. “I fell into a bad crowd at high school, got involved with gang shit. Sam pulled me out and nearly lost his life doing so. A few years later, I pulled him out of some shit. It was a constant game of playing savior for us, until Cain recruited us to the Nighthawks a few years ago. We found our place here—we were extremely good at our jobs, and we worked best together.”
My eyebrows lift as Luci crawls out of my lap.
Slowly, hesitantly, he approaches Monster, closing the distance one small step at a time.
When Monster shifts a little, Luci hisses and recoils.
Monster freezes; Luci watches him for several beats.
A full minute passes before Luci resumes his trek, and carefully curls up right against Monster’s arm.
Monster stares at him with pure shock; Luci releases a hiss, but it seems like a cursory “watch yourself and don’t test me” rather than a full-blown threat.
“I think I might be warming up to this little menace,” Monster murmurs.
“He’s the best,” I say with a nod. “Here.” I pick up Monster’s hand in my own, pausing when a jolt of…
something passes through me at the contact.
I push down the strange sensation and carefully set Monster’s hand down on Luci’s fur, guiding him through petting Luci a few times.
After a couple of strokes, Luci relaxes and begins purring; he even nestles closer to Monster.
I release Monster’s hand and let the two of them bond.
If I’m here for the long haul, I might as well let Luci and Monster become friends so they don’t tear each other apart.
“Cute little fucker,” Monster murmurs. “Is this how you helped your mommy when she was hurt? Did you cuddle up with her and act adorable?” His voice climbs in pitch as he talks to my cat, and Luci eats it right up, purring loudly.
“I don’t show up in your nightmares?” Monster asks after a few moments, still gazing at Luci. Almost as if he’s too afraid to hear what I say.
“Not really,” I say, because the dreams he shows up in sometimes start as nightmares before transforming into something else. Something… sensual. That used to feel like a nightmare, but not anymore. Now, I don’t know what it feels like.
“You haven’t been to the greenhouse in a while,” Monster comments, switching topics. “Don’t you want to check on your plants?”
I clear my throat. “When Max stopped by, I passed on instructions. Hopefully, he’s watching over them in my stead. Once you’re… better, I’d like to go back.”
“Why are you staying for me?” Monster asks. “Why are you staying with me? You hate me, Scarlett.”
“I don’t hate you,” I murmur. It’s a startling realization even weeks after I’ve come to terms with it.
“Then… what?” Monster asks. I can feel him staring at me now, but I don’t look at him. I don’t have the strength to.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t hate you, though. I know that much. I can’t hate you after what you did. After you proved that your words about not hurting me were more than just meaningless words.”
“Thank you,” Monster says quietly.
I swallow. “For what?”
“For giving me hope. It’s been…” he trails off, shaking his head. “A long fucking time since anyone did.”