Chapter 56 The Artist And The Bird Talk It Through
The Artist And The Bird Talk It Through
RAFE
Sighing, I ignore the shallow furrows on my chest from my tear through as I sink onto the bed. My shoulders slump and I rub my hands over my face. “Fuck me.”
Taurus sinks into a chair of his own, catching blood off his chest and sucking it off his finger. “Can’t say I’m in the mood right now, thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant. Don’t be a dipshit.”
He arches his brow. “Ratchet it back, Rafe.”
I stare at the ceiling, unwilling to argue with him about my right to be angry after what he pulled with my wife earlier. “Sorry.”
“Can we just stop?” He holds his hand up while rubbing his temple with his free hand.
“Whatever.” I throw an arm over my eyes, wishing I could blink us all somewhere away from this bullshit before it destroys everything. If I thought the woman would allow it, I would ask Simba to do it for me.
The people in this place are going to fuck up any chance we have of making this work—I guarantee it.
“Fun times at the Pridelands—another day, another trauma,” Taurus mutters.
I growl low because it happens often enough for us to be bitterly sarcastic about it. “I want to tan her hide. I hate when she flies off in a tizzy and leaves me to pick up the pieces. It gives me a bloody headache.”
That’s true, but I’m still more pissed at him and can’t really articulate it yet.
“Try it from this end. The cat’s so much a part of me now that the smallest ripple brushes across the surface of her pond and it rockets up my spine.”
“No bloody thanks,” I snort. “It’s bad enough getting a bleed when she siphons off of me.”
“As a bonus, your wife can rip open my skull on a whim. Face it, Sampson, you got off lucky if all you get is a bleed every now and again.”
He really doesn’t know, does he? Damn, he’s oblivious.
I give him a pointed expression. “You have no idea how much of Talia’s emotions I feel, do you? Shields or not, it’s not a bloody picnic. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it hits pretty bloody hard.”
“I hope you wouldn’t trade it,” he grumbles as he slumps in his chair more.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t trade any of you, despite how much trouble you are in.”
That earns me a tiny smile, and I consider it a victory. “Me neither. I love my wife in ways I can’t wrap my mind around. The goddess is something entirely different and enormous in her own right. You are, too, when you’re not annoying me to death because you didn’t give me the smackdown I wanted.”
This topic is off-limits if I want to remain sane, so I shrug as if it doesn’t matter. “I know from experience it won’t fix anything, nor will it make you feel better.”
“Figures it would be a lesson that you won’t let me learn for myself.”
My brows furrow, and I shake my head, my expression haunted.
“It’s not a lesson I would wish on anyone.
And I will not force someone to learn it by my hand because that shitty lesson changes everything.
” I look away, struggling to get myself under control as the bile rises.
When I do, I murmur, “You didn’t want it badly enough.
You didn’t push me far enough to force my hand.
You could have, but it would have—it would have changed everything. ”
I’m being more vulnerable than I’d like, but now that he triggered that pain, I can’t help it.
Taurus jumps out of the chair, and I shrink back, unsure what’s coming. “Fuck! Do you know how much it rips me up inside when you talk like that?”
“If you had pushed me to where I beat the shit out of you, it would have changed things forever. That’s the flat truth. What else do you want me to say?”
Looking at me for a long minute, Taurus stays quiet.
Finally, he turns to head for the French doors and swings them open, crossing the yard in bare feet.
I didn’t expect that, but of course, he has very different reactions than my wife or primary.
I guess distance is what he needs to process my admission.
Unfortunately for him, that activates something else in me, and I do not like distance when I’m hurting.
I stride after him, grabbing his arm. My expression is earnest, but my voice is rough. “You would have had to say things about—you would have had to reopen wounds to get me to do it. Maybe I’m a fool, but I don’t think you’d do that.”
His eyes fall on my hand, and I feel the heat of that gaze, but don’t let go. “You know I wouldn’t.”
He needs to hear this, though.
“To get me to beat on you, you would have had to cross that line. I’ve felt the need you were feeling. I knew what you were doing, and I didn’t let you.” I squeeze his arm, hoping it helps him realize that I’m trusting him with something important.
He sighs, looking out into the garden. “I want my family to work, Sampson. Right now, we don’t, and I want us to work.”
“I do, too. I want us all to be together and happy.”
Taurus turns back to head inside, forcing me to let go. Once he’s free, he goes in and drops into the armchair again. I follow him, flopping out on the bed since he definitely refuses to touch me.
“You and I earlier—not a pleasant scene.”
I nod, scratching my chin as if it’s no big deal. “Definitely not.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. Pain and fear were running high, and I used you—or tried to—to make myself feel better. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Gee, I never would have known that without you saying it.
I shrug, familiar with this end of the cycle. “No, but luckily, I didn’t let you. There’s no reason for us to have a problem. You stayed away from the nasty stuff. It pissed me off, but once I realized what you were doing, I stopped it. I can’t fault you; I’ve done it before. No worries.”
He growls in frustration. “I don’t feel the ‘no worries’ part.”
“Are you going to brood about it? Really, I’m okay.”
I am, but only because I knew how to mitigate the harm.
“I’m not, for fuck’s sake!” he snarls. “I’m furious that I went that far with you to begin with. To top it all off, it rips at my gut to hear you talk about what happened before us. Added to that, my wife went ape shit, Talia stormed off, and all of us are not where we should be—which is together!”
I run my hand over my eyes, propping myself up to look at him. “I don’t know how to help. I’m not mad or holding a grudge. I shouldn’t have brought up the past, but it was necessary. We’re not all together, but it will get better. I have faith in that.”
“I hate what you did to yourself, and I hate you for keeping the scars from it. It’s not that it hurts like hearing about past relationships.
That hurts differently.” He turns and throws his legs over the arm of the chair arm.
“It’s like you haven’t healed and you won’t ever heal.
That’s wrong, I think. To go on in life, to be whole…
you have to heal. I felt like I kidded myself into thinking that I was helping with your healing.
I thought Talia and I were enough to help you be whole. ”
I look at my hands. “You have. There are things I can’t forget. I have been healing—more than I can say—and you’d feel it if I wasn’t.”
“Today I found out no one’s healed from anything.
Sandwich’s got gaping wounds—not the ones she won’t let me see—but ones on the surface.
You’ve got scars on your back and in other places.
Talia’s got a fair issue or a thousand with guilt.
Satan knows if I could push you like I did today, if I wanted a beating that badly, something is off in me, too. ”
I stay quiet as I listen to him, understanding that he needs this rant to process.
“How would I know if you weren’t healing, Sampson? I’m not an empath. Even if I was, I wouldn’t delve into people without their permission.”
“We’ve connected inside a time or two. Maybe not like you and the cat do, but I think you’d feel it like you did the first time.
I don’t think the woman knew how much this community defection was eating at her.
The way they’re objectifying her paired with any other trauma of the past?
It’s not surprising that it set her off.
I don’t know what you’re carrying, but—”
Snorting, he leans his head back. “That ‘but’ almost destroyed us forever. That’s no big deal, though, right? Pairs like us are a dime a dozen, yeah?”
Damn it, he’s determined to make this about him, and it’s so damn familiar.
“That’s not what I said! I don’t believe that you’d do what it would have taken to get me to hit you. I didn’t rise to your bait. I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t hurt Blade, and I was damned sure you wouldn’t kill me. You destroyed nothing.”
His voice is a low, painful whisper. “I almost flat-out decked you. I almost took your sodding head off.”
I chuckle. “My head would have stayed on my shoulders. I might have been bruised and battered, but not destroyed. Just because I don’t fight much doesn’t mean I couldn’t have taken it.”
“Christ, you’re a stubborn stoat.” He grins a tiny bit.
“I’ve been told that once or twice. The only thing that punch would have done was swell my pretty face. I would have gotten over it because you would have apologized. Apologizing is all anyone can ask when something bad happens.”
He chuckles again. “And people say I have a sodding ego… your pretty face, huh?”
I had to say something to bring him out of his self-imposed K-hole, didn’t I?
Blinking, I bat my lashes at him, looking pouty on purpose. “Are you saying it’s not? I’m hurt, Simba.”
“Please. Anyone with eyes in their head knows that I’m much prettier than you.”
Sticking my finger in my mouth, I pretend to gag. Of course, I know he’s hot as fuck and I’m no slouch. We’re cloned to be that way, so it’s not like it’s really ego as much as a biological fact.
“Says the clone who needs glasses for detailed work.”
Looking peeved, I grumble at him. “You wear a pair occasionally. I hate the bloody things, but they make me look very studious, I’ve been told.” I reach under the nightstand and pull out a sketchpad to toss at him. “Four pages in.”
Taurus flips through and his eyes widen. “Who sodding spilled that?” I watch him eyeball the picture of him working on the couch, bespectacled and intent, with a folder of reports. “My wife! I knew it.”
I grin. “You will never get it out of me.”
“I haven’t worn those in a long time. Whose head did you pull this from?”
“Not a bloody chance, mate. You won’t get it from me. You look hot, though, so quit your bellyaching.”
“When the subject is as perfect as me, the object of your art can’t help but shine.”
I roll my eyes and snort, standing as I pretend to gag again. “I’m going to choke on that ego one day.”
“Doubtful. You’ve been living with it so far.”
“True,” I say, giving him a smile. “You never know, though. I could go along fine, and one day, bam.” I double over and clutch my throat, making choking sounds.
“You’d be heartbroken,” he winks. “There might even be a tear.”
“Hm. A tear? I don’t know; that might be stretching it.”
He shakes his head and stands. “Don’t even try it, Sampson. It’d break your heart and you know it. Just like losing you would churn my stomach and bleed my soul.”
I smile and walk over to him. “Why don’t you come over here and tell me about it? I could use some comfort.”
I’m letting the pain go for now because I’m serious about that—we need a little comfort to keep on going.