Chapter 43 Indie
Indie
Indigo (feat. Avery Anna) - Sam Barber
I feel as though I’m watching life outside my body.
My surroundings are blurred, the music and chatter muffled, Saint’s voice is gone.
I’m moving, but it’s a struggle. I completely froze when I saw him.
I thought I’d be okay, the fortress around my mind strong enough to deal with the one that caused my life to flip upside its head.
The one responsible for the root of my pain, for losing years with the man I love, the one that made me into a fucking killer.
When he had that woman viciously in his grip, her staggering form trying to fight against his advances, losing to him.
Every single dark and weakening thought came flooding through my defences, washing away the barricades like a tsunami had hit it, and I felt like I’d been catapulted back years in time, witnessing my own assault.
Saint drags me into a bathroom, pulling me inside and turning to lock the door.
My body won’t move; it’s like I can’t get out of my head, the chunks of what remained of my assault flashing behind my eyes, the need to claw at my skin strong.
I’m screaming at myself to snap out of it, for someone to get me out of the hole I’ve fallen into, but I can’t.
My breathing becomes laboured, each breath feeling like a knife puncturing my lung.
The clank of ceramic catches my attention, and I manage to dart my gaze over to Saint.
“Come over to me, baby.”
He ends up pulling me into his lap as he sits down on the seat. Every single layer of my skin’s tissue vibrates, and I’m fighting against getting lost in the grasps of a panic attack.
It’s been a while since I got an unwelcome flashback.
When I take out a mark, I only think of my aftermath. My mind is prepped for that; I’m able to check the foundations before I step back into it.
I know it isn’t happening again. I survived it.
I worked on myself to turn my life around.
But this?
This is a trigger I thought I’d be strong enough to face.
Saint’s hands cup my face. “Indie, talk to me?”
It isn’t until his wet thumbs caress under my eyes that I realise I’m crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I rush out. The words come out scratchy and croaked, as if I took a lifetime vow of silence, the oxygen my lungs are starved of swooshing back in as they eventually expand.
The fear is threatening to consume me whole, fragments of that night still stabbing at my mind, preparing to swallow me back into its time warp like it did the first time I had one.
Saint snatches the earpiece out of my ear, and then his.
He takes the pin off his jacket and stuffs the devices deep into his pocket.
“I don’t want your apologies, Indie. I want you here with me.
Listen to my voice. I’ve got you. You’re not in the Archives.
You will never experience that again, do you hear me?
I’d give my life if it meant you’d never come to harm again. ”
I hang on to each and every one of Saint’s words with desperate hands, his voice lulling my personal demons.
He holds me tight, hands drawing circles on my forearms, riding out the flashback with me, until it subsides.
I don’t know how much time has passed, the heaviness of the cloak easing as my mind stumbles out of the storm, worn and battered, shaken up, but not completely destroyed.
My heart is still thundering in my chest, the glaze over my eyes has subdued, and I look up to find those intense grey eyes assessing me, searching for my clarity.
The same pair of eyes that holds every one of my dreams, and my nightmares.
The ones I’ve craved to look into when times got hard, and they’re here with me, in the now.
Saint’s voice drops dangerously low. The air in the room takes a drastic turn. “They don’t cause your fear, Indie. I do.”
My breathing stutters, but it’s nothing to do with the aftermath I’m still bathing in.
“I’m not scared of you,” I whisper.
“No?”
I silently shake my head, my eyes locked onto his. “Never.”
His dark laugh rumbles against my chest, raising the hairs along the back of my exposed neck. “That, baby, might be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”
My mouth opens, but he cuts through my words, placing his forehead against mine and forcefully cupping the back of my neck.
“The things I would do for you? To anyone who ever caused you harm? Made you cry? If you knew the thoughts that run through my head on how each of them will meet their end, you’d never look at me the same way again.”
I close my eyes at his devotion, my pulse drumming through my ears. Even though his words are corroded in evil methods, they also bring me a sombre feeling.
“Tell me,” I whisper, truly wanting to know.
Needing to know.
I want to know if this man’s as deranged as I am when it comes to our love.
“You really want to know?”
“Every detail,” I breathe, hanging on to everything he says, his voice pulling me back to the real word.
The new world both of us have been forced into.
I can feel his smile when he says, “Are you going to get pissed if I tell you I’ve already killed someone for you?”
“No,” I answer without a hint of hesitation. If he’d asked me this same question years ago, I’d have likely run the other way.
A deep part of me hopes that he’d chase me.
I always glimpsed into the unknown evil within Saint, edging closer and closer to it as it called to me.
Intrigued to know what caused it, too damned in love to ever question it.
The warmth of his calloused palm wraps atop of my hand, slipping it beneath the split of my skirt, guiding us in leisurely strokes against my thigh.
“The time on your roof, when you told me about the guy who upset you?”
My eyes spring open, and I lean back in his lap to look at him. “Yes…” I remember the moment like it was yesterday.
Despite the reason for me seeking sanctuary on the roof, that night was one of my most treasured.
Saint smirks at me, leaning back against the counter.
All of his tattoos are hidden beneath the make-up, and my heart clutches like its valves are being knotted together.
He looks exactly like the boy I wanted but thought I could never have.
“He met an unfortunate end.”
“Saint.” My words tumble off into a gasp, him moving our hands so my thumb is strumming my clit against the material of my panties.
He holds my stare, continuing our movements as he leads me into a slow burn, the fear from earlier long extinguished from my system, and the feelings for him rising in its place.
“Unluckily for him, he happened to cross my path not long after we separated. The first person I killed that wasn’t linked to Ultio’s reasons.”
I should be horrified.
Disgusted that he took an innocent life for merely upsetting me, nothing compared to what’s been done to me.
It doesn’t.
A sick, deranged feeling courses through my veins, lacing itself around the high he’s soaring me to. My vision blurs as he brings me to the only ecstasy he holds.
He removes his hand from mine whilst I continue, slipping his finger past my panty line, sliding it inside me through slow, tormenting thrusts that cause me to moan.
“Why?” I breathe, staring at him through hooded eyes.
He grips my neck tighter, my free hand reaching to hold onto his broad shoulder. His words cut through my pants, spinning the entire universe as I know it.
“Because no one. Upsets my fucking woman.”
My pussy grips around his fingers, the orgasm obliterating any lingering feelings threatening to take away this moment.
He slides them out, guiding them between his lips, and sucks on them.
I no longer feel the fear from earlier, stuck in a daze from the man before me. How he can make me feel so much, in such little time and effort.
If only I had him in all my weakest moments.
I don’t know how long I sit in a trance after witnessing his wicked ways—long enough for me to come crashing back down to earth after visiting his stars—but this time I land firmly on my feet, Saint waiting there to catch me.
A devilish and smug look etches his features. “Feeling better?” he asks.
I try to paw at his chest, but he captures my wrist, pressing a chaste kiss against my palm.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and it earns me another.
That gratitude is plural.
For saving me that night.
For loving me this entire time.
For grounding me in a way that only feels safe with you.
He helps me to my feet. “We need to go, darling. The event’s about to begin.”
Saint waits until I freshen up, and I’m thankful for whatever Shona placed on my eyes, no black ropes inking down my cheeks from my blip earlier.
When I turn to face him, he’s got his pin back on and puts our earpieces back in place. His hand reaches out for me, like an offering, providing me with his unwavering safety the moment our fingers interlink, lurking back within a sea of serpents.
We slip back into the crowd unnoticed, rows of people flowing upwards towards the grand staircase.
Following the crowd, we’re led into the west wing, which seems to be reserved for the main event. Security lines the doors of the dimmed corridor, and we head over to Ross as they assign people booths upon reaching the threshold.
The space opens up to what could only be described as a massive theatre, the entire room dipped in darkness as a stairway cuts right down the centre, small golden spotlights illuminating the floor, leading to a stage that dominates the back wall.
Bile rises in my throat, like the place has been kitted purely for the entertainment of sick-minded individuals.
A light pressure pulses on my hand, and I glance up to see Saint’s shadowed face looking at me. His aviators are back on, much like many of the men in this manor.
I’m beginning to think it’s a mask for them. You can’t see their eyes?
You don’t know the darkness that hunts beneath the depths of their souls.
At least with Saint’s, I know it wouldn’t cause me harm.
It glooms to protect me.