Chapter Eighteen
It seemed that, later in the evening, they weren’t doing anything, because the twins had been called to their uncle’s house. Evelyn spoke vaguely of some problems with the wires, and since the twins knew their way around electricity...
Freya was alone, in her yard, looking up at the sky.
Coming this far, this late in the evening was another win for her.
When the moon started to get fuller, she’d be taunted with the incoming hunt, as Lewis called it.
She’d feel the fear grow inside her. But tonight ...
it was just another night. Yes, the moon was growing in the night sky, but now it meant nothing.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She doubted that after everything she’d ever feel free at night, but for now ... she was contented.
That’s how the twins found her, late at night. Sound asleep in a sun lounger that Evelyn lent to her.
****
“She’s going to freeze out here.”
“Take her. I’ll open the door for you.”
Not that she’d given them a key, but the twins were proficient in several arts. Martial Arts, lock picking...
Careful not to wake her up, Declan took her in his arms, while Ciaran adjusted the blanket he’d found on the arm of the sofa around her.
The house was dark, but it smelled strongly of apples, cinnamon, and the air freshener she kept around.
They took her to her room, carefully lying her down.
Ciaran snuggled her, noticing how her face was frowned, even in sleep.
Gently, with the tips of his fingers, he smoothed the wrinkles on her forehead, but she shook her head, as if trying to move away.
“It’s okay, little one. You’re okay,” Declan soothed, but she woke up with a gasp. They tried not to take it personally when she seemed to recoil from them, even after recognizing them.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“You fell asleep outside. We brought you to your room.”
She frowned.
“The door was locked.”
“No, it wasn’t. We didn’t enter through the keyhole, little one.” Slightly amused, Declan smiled. Now probably wasn’t the best time in the world to brag about Ciaran’s abilities with locks.
“What time is it?”
“Late. Go back to sleep, angel.”
She snuggled back, but her eyes were wide open. She even seemed to be trembling.
“Are you cold, little one?”
“I was ... dreaming...”
“Oh? About what? Two dazzlingly handsome young lads?”
“No ... wolves.” She shuddered. Exchanging a quick look with Ciaran, Declan said, “Do you like wolves, little one?”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted in a small voice. “When night comes, I’m always afraid.”
“We’ll stay with you. No mutt will enter this room with your handsomely dashing lovers here.”
“Gee, self-esteem is everything,” she joked. Relieved that she seemed more relaxed, Declan allowed a small smile to spread.
“I’m realistic. Do you want us to help you sleep?”
“Uh... yes...?”
With a satisfied smile, Declan turned her around so her back was to him, taking care to wrap her in the duvet.
He faced Ciaran, who gazed at her with burning eyes.
His hands moved to her shoulders, massaging them.
She was wide eyed, but when he took his fingers to her neck and started massaging the knots, she moaned.
Because she tilted her head back, her torso jutted out slightly.
The duvet slipped, and Ciaran saw a nipple peek through the thin fabric of her blouse.
He immediately took possession of it, licking and biting slightly, while Declan kept her entranced with his fingers.
When she leaned in even further and rested her head on Declan's shoulder, he stopped massaging her to take possession of her mouth.
Her senses were assaulted everywhere, their tongues working in tandem to provide her pleasure. The duvet slipped off, and Ciaran reached down to slide his hands along the shirt. Freya was slow to realize she was shirtless and froze instantly.
“No... please...”
“Let us, little one. Let us love you.”
“No... You don’t understand...”
Declan took possession of her mouth again and Ciaran resumed the caressing of her breasts. She was trying to cover herself up and Declan leaned forward in bed so that she was practically lying on his chest.
“So good, taking my brother so well,” he praised approvingly, his voice a soft whisper. “Open, little one. Let Ciaran taste you.”
“Wh-what?”
“Close your eyes and enjoy.”
“No... you don’t understand, if I close them ... they’ll come back. The ghosts, the ... they’ll come back. I’ll never be free.”
“You are free, and you have a choice,” said Declan, fiercely.
“You’ll always have a choice with us.”
“Say the word and we’ll stop. Say the word, and we’re out of here. Say the word, and we’ll continue. The choice is yours, little one.”
They waited. For Freya, the silence was deafening.
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, but deep down, she knew they’d keep their word.
They’d wait. For her. They’d stop. For her.
But they could also help her crawl back from the place she was, and right now, she was in a bottomless pit of misery and pain.
Gathering all her courage, she managed to whisper, “I have scars. They’re ugly and... and...”
“And they’re part of you. They tell a tale of horror and survival. They tell us that you’re beautiful and brave.”
“You haven’t seen them.”
“But we will. As soon as you’re ready to show us.”
They waited. Freya was still nervous, but their calm reassurance was working wonders for her anxiety. She leaned back again, unconsciously allowing Declan to resume the caresses.
“Well, angel? What’s your decision?”
“Words, little one. We’re not inside your head.”
“I want ... I want you to show me how to make love.”