by J. J. Dean
"Wouldn't you like clothes that fit you instead of having to wear ours?" he asks, although there's something in his gaze that tells me he might not be completely opposed to me wearing his clothes. That, or I'm delusional.
I was more lenient to allow things onto the ever-growing pile of clothes Spencer and Zayn bought me after Ezra’s comment.
After another hour passes - and Nix has created a fashion show out of the clothes - my belly grumbles loud enough for all four of them to hear. I slap my hands over my stomach, and I can feel my cheeks growing warm. "Sorry. I forgot I need to eat regularly. I'd gotten used to waiting on someone to bring me what little food they'd give us."
I couldn't have possibly said a worse thing because the playful atmosphere completely evaporates, replaced once again with guilt, anger, and sympathy. Spencer avoids making eye contact. Nix shuffles awkwardly on his feet, and Ezra's features pull into a tight scowl. Zayn is the only one who seems unaffected aside from the clenching of his fists. I didn't mean to ruin the mood by speaking my mind, but perhaps I should tread more carefully with my words before blurting them out.
"We'd rather you tell us what you're thinking. You shouldn't have to edit your thoughts in order to keep us happy." Zayn follows his words with a small smile, easing some of the tension that had built in my body. I give him a nod, and then my belly growls again as though it's suddenly turned into an angry beast.
"I'll go cook something up while you guys finish up in here," Ezra says with the smallest smirk as he clears away some of the bags before shuffling out of the room.
Deciding that I should help with putting bags away or putting some of the boxes in the trash, I try to heave myself out of the giant bean bag to no avail. It's as though the thing has sucked me in and refuses to release me.
Spencer notices my struggle after my third attempt to roll from the bag ending with me toppling back into it with an aggravated huff. "Need some help?"
I drop my head back in defeat and sigh. "That would be great."
He holds his hands out for me to take, and I slide my palms onto his, twining my fingers around his hands tightly. The moment my skin connects with his, a warm sensation trails up my arms, comforting yet unusual. Spencer and I pause. I look at our entwined hands before flicking my gaze up to check if Spencer can feel the same thing I can. When my eyes dart up, it's to find him already watching me closely. My lips part, and my small inhale of air is the only thing to be heard in the room.
Suddenly, I'm being hauled out of the vacuum-like bean bag and steadied by a firm set of hands. Spencer's eyes don't leave mine when he pulls me onto my feet or when his hands go to my waist to keep my balance steady. Did he feel it? Or is insanity finally catching up to me?
The mage shakes his head and moves back a little, hesitantly removing his hands from my sides. He looks towards Zayn before muttering, "I'll go help Ez with food."
He's gone the next second.
"Well, I'm going to go for a run before they get done cooking," Nix says. He stretches his arms up in the air, cracking his knuckles as he does so. His shirt rides up a little, exposing his lower abdomen. I spy a trail of hair leading from his navel that disappears under his jeans, and I flick my gaze away quickly when I realise my eyes have wandered to a well-endowed bulge that's straining against the zipper of his pants. I don’t need dirty thoughts about the shifter rattling in my head right now after already feeling a little flushed at the contact I just had with Spencer.
My cheeks heat up, but I avoid looking in Nix's direction. Instead, my eyes catch onto Zayn's. The mind reading vampire. I can only hope he isn't intruding on my brain right now. He doesn't make any outward appearance indicating that he's been eavesdropping, so I relax a little even while my cheeks remain heated.
Nix's leaves the room, and it's just Zayn and me. I walk over to the bed and start piling bags into more bags, clearing away the mess left over. I feel more than hear Zayn walk closer to me, so I stop what I'm doing and turn to face him.
He looks suddenly shy, his hand in his pocket and looking down at the floor. "Zayn? Are you okay?"
His green eyes meet mine, and it's as though the air has suddenly been suctioned out of the room. With him standing as close as he is, I can see the deeper green flecks smattered in his irises. They're stunning and intense, and it takes a lot for me to catch my breath again without making an idiot of myself.
"I, uh, bought you something. I thought you'd like it as a little reminder," he tells me, still a little shy, but gaining confidence the more he talks. "I heard you say your sister's name was Dahlia. As in the flower?"
I give him a nod because that's all I can manage with the way my throat closes up at the mere mention of my big sister. Zayn saves me from attempting to speak.
"Well, I came across this while we were shopping, and I thought it would be a nice token to remind you of your sister." He then pulls out a small square box from the pocket his hand had been encased in and holds it out for me to take. I look at him, then back at the box, tears already forming in my eyes.
Slowly, as though the box is glass and not a velvet-covered casing, I take it from his hand and pull it closer. I open the lid carefully, and inside sits a beautiful silver ring. It's a band with dahlia flowers and vines engraved all around it. The details are remarkable, every petal or leaf outlined perfectly. Where did he even get something so beautiful?
"I hope I haven't overstepped," Zayn speaks up, worry tainting his words. It's then I realise that I've capped my thoughts, and a lone tear works its way down my cheeks. I shake my head vigorously enough to make another teardrop fall from my lashes, and my eyesight to become blurry.
With a voice only just above a whisper, I say, "It's beautiful. Really beautiful. I love it."
His smile is warm when he directs it back to me. He takes a step closer, motioning to the box. "May I?"
I nod and hand him the box. When it's in his grasp, he pulls the ring out of the case and tilts it so the light hits the inside of the band. The light hits it the way Zayn wants, and he motions me closer, his pinky finger pointing as something that's engraved into the metal. I move closer and tilt my head to see what it is.
Beauty is that of a bond between sisters.
It’s like those words alone hold the key to my emotions and unlock the flood. My cheeks are coated in salty tears, but a smile pulls at my lips. Dahlia would have adored this ring. She’d never take it off if it were given to her as a gift. She certainly wouldn’t let me borrow something so beautiful.
I chuckle through my sniffles, and a comforting hand runs soothing motions up and down my back. I lift my head to wipe away my tears, facing Zayn as I do so. “Thank you so much. I’ll treasure it always.”
Zayn’s smile grows, and he picks my hand up, a warm tingle emanating from where our skin connects. He pays it no mind, quite possibly ignoring the feeling or not experiencing it at all. Gently, he slides the band on the middle finger of my right hand and gives my hand a squeeze before letting go and taking away the warm fuzzy feeling with him.
“I’m pleased that you like it,” he says, turning shy again. He shoves both hands in his pockets and gives me a small smile.
An overwhelming sense of gratitude overtakes me, set off by the shy smile he gives me after offering me something so precious that I’ll never take it off my finger. Without warning, I move towards him and loop my arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He freezes briefly before his arms slowly surround me, curling around my back and hugging me to his body securely.
With my head lying under his chin, I tell him, “I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love it. It’s perfect.”
Zayn rubs a hand over the expanse of my back, comforting me further and simply holding me until the overwhelming feelings subside, and I don’t feel as though I’m seconds away from another impending breakdown over an incredibly sweet gesture.
I slowly pull away from the vampire, look down to my new ring, and smile. It sits comfortably on
my finger, and the feeling of knowing that it’s something I’ll miss if lost settles deep in my heart. How he had it sized perfectly to my finger is a mystery to me, but I’m forever grateful that he thought to buy me something that already means a great deal to me.
"I'm going to clean up this mess. Why don't you go to the living room? I'm sure dinner is almost done," Zayn offers, making a move to clear the bags on the bed. I ignore his suggestion and help with clearing the mess away. I pack bags into other bags and break down boxes while Zayn folds the clothes that made their way into a pile at the end of the bed.
By the time we're done, Ezra announces dinner is ready, and I'm feeling more at home here than I probably should. I mean, I don't expect to stay with the guys. I've already been here for two days. I'm sure they're all expecting me to start making a plan on where to go, where I'm going to live now. They saved me, sure, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stay with them from here on out. That's not what they signed up for. Their mission is complete, so I'll have to leave them soon.
Those thoughts suddenly make my mood plummet. My chest aches at the thought of leaving them, which doesn't make sense at all. I don't know them, not really. They rescued me, but I don't know who they are beyond that. Well, I know they're good guys because they've taken care of me since finding me on the river bank. Sadly, that still doesn't mean I know them. So why does my chest hurt, my eyes sting with unshed tears, and a hollow ache grow in the pit of my stomach until it's almost all-consuming? Why does the thought of leaving and never seeing them again constrict my heart and leave me feeling like I've already lost a part of myself? It doesn't make sense.
If Zayn senses the change in me, he doesn't show it. He doesn't comment on the whirlwind thoughts cascading through my head, so I'm hoping I managed to cap it before he could have any insight to where my thoughts had wandered.
We tidy up everything side by side, silence settling over us while my mind runs a mile a minute. Everything is cleared away in no time, and once the last box has been broken, and Zayn folds the last pair of leggings, I excuse myself to the bathroom.
I close the door with a soft click of the latch and sink to the floor. Before my ass hits the tiles, tears are filling my eyes and overflowing, gliding down my cheeks in tiny rivers of confusion and apprehension. I don't understand why I'm reacting this way. I never would have expected to stay here, with four strangers no less, but it's suddenly dawned on me that once I leave here, I'll be alone. Truly, irrevocably alone. And what's worse is that I have nowhere else to go, no money to go anywhere. Where am I supposed to go from here? How do I figure out my next step? How do I even make a plan when everything and everyone I knew is gone, and I'm left to figure this all out on my own?
Before I was taken, I'd only ever left the reservation with Dahlia. It was the only way I could learn about everything beyond fae and other Naturals. But even those trips weren't enough to prepare me for the outside world, the real world. I wouldn't know where the hell to start.
For five long, gruelling years I wished for nothing other than to be free, to feel the fresh air blow through my hair. To smell the fresh flowers in bloom and feel the sun on my face while I lay in the grass. Thing is, I always thought I'd still have my family when that day came. I thought I'd never be alone, never be left to fend for myself and figure out the world without my father and sister beside me. I thought, when the day we escaped finally came, we'd be together to start our lives over.
But that's not what Fate had in mind for me or my family. Instead, they were torn from me, their lives snatched away from them while I'd been abandoned to live this life in loneliness.
But how can I? How do I do this alone?
Chapter 10
Novia
After gathering myself together again, I put on a brave face and leave the bathroom despite the thoughts plaguing my mind. I head to the front room, finding Ezra dishing an amazing smelling dinner, while Spencer gathers the cutlery and drinking glasses. I spot Zayn sitting in an armchair with an open book resting on his lap. Nix is missing, so I assume he's still doing whatever it is shifters do.
Just as I step closer, Ezra glances behind himself quickly before turning back to his task, commenting, "Good timing. I've just plated your dinner. I made spaghetti and meatballs with homemade garlic bread. There's enough for seconds if you want more."
"Thanks," I reply, a slight rasp to my voice from my emotional breakdown.
Spencer's head lifts from pouring Dr Pepper in one of the glasses at the sound of my voice. His eyes narrow, and his head tilts as his intense gaze takes in my face. "What's wrong? You've been crying."
Shit. He caught me.
"Nothing. I'm fine." I offer him a smile, though it feels too strained to look genuine. The same thoughts I had in the bathroom slither into my mind, but I ignore them with the mage's eyes trained on me.
Spencer's eyebrows furrow as he puts the cap back on the bottle he was pouring from. He steps around the island, walking close to where I'm awkwardly standing. He lowers his voice and tells me, "Your eyes are red-rimmed, your nose is pink, and I didn't miss the slight roughness to your voice when you spoke. You're not fine. Why have you been crying?"
My mouth falls open in shock at his observations. I was sure I'd left enough time for the redness to fade from my face before leaving. With an audible swallow, I shake my head and smile a little more genuinely even though it's a struggle to do so. "I really am fine. It's nothing."
I step away from Spencer and his penetrating gaze, moving towards the island. My eyes flick to Zayn briefly, catching him watching me with a troubled frown. I look back to Spencer, who's wearing a matching frown, but decide not to question it. I get to the island where a plate piled with spaghetti and meatballs sits alongside a smaller plate with slices of garlic bread.
Just as I lift my head to thank Ezra again, his back tenses, and his head snaps up. He doesn't turn around, but his rigid stature is enough to tell me something isn't right. The atmosphere turns strained for reasons I'm unaware of.
Deciding not to make it a big deal, I sit at the island and pull the plate towards me after gathering my cutlery. Ignoring the prickly feel of the room, I give Ezra my thanks and tuck into the beautifully-cooked meal before me.
I fork a mouthful of food into my mouth the moment Nix walks through the door, shirtless and covered in sweat. My mouth suddenly dries, and swallowing my food becomes a difficult task when I spy well-defined abs and an Adonis belt that disappears underneath the pair of jeans that hang low on his hips. He's all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him, and he's nothing short of gorgeous. A fluttering in my belly begins, and I'm pretty certain that isn't down to hunger.
I drag my eyes away when I feel a blush rising to my cheeks, painfully swallowing the mouthful of spaghetti, and focus my thoughts on something other than the beads of sweat that trailed over his chest and over every ridge of muscle.
With my back turned, I hear Nix ask, "Why's it so quiet in here? And why does everyone seem so, I don't know, tense?"
I don't answer, given that I don't understand it myself, so I focus on eating my food and keeping my eyes away from Nix's naked chest. The others don't answer him either, going about their business in awkward silence. The atmosphere in the room has me shuffling on my seat in discomfort. My stomach sours, making the rest of the food in front of me less appetising than it was before.
The room grows silent until Nix loudly blurts, "What the fuck?!"
The anger in his voice startles me enough that I flinch in my seat, dropping the fork I’d held in one hand while my other arm shoots out and knocks the glass beside my plate off the countertop. The glass falls and shatters against the floor, shards scattering over the floor in crystalline fragments. In my panicked state, I jump off the bar stool, knocking it to the floor and catching my feet on the broken pieces of glass.
White noise begins to cloud my hearing, and my eyesight grows fuzzy with my sudden spurt of fear and anxiety - something I'm overly familiar wit
h, yet still unable to stave off. With my heart racing and panic overcrowding my mind, I fall to the floor, cutting my hands while I do so. I look around wide-eyed, not seeing anything which sends me falling further into my frenzy. I shuffle backwards until my back meets a hard surface, and my brain explodes with all of the memories of every other time I'd been in this situation where terror overrode all of my senses. I’d cling to the bars of my cage, wishing and praying that it wasn’t real and that I wouldn’t feel pain that day. Visions fill my head of the guards jabbing tasers into my ribs while I cower into my bars, of them tearing me away from my cage only to strap me down to a gurney and continue prodding me with the electrical device. It's as though I've been thrown back into that hell place, and I'm forced to relive all of the torture they inflicted.
Just as my memories begin to repeat themselves, sounds begin to penetrate my ears. Male voices calling over one another. A velvety voice calling my name, luring me from my panicked state. A deep baritone muttering an apology over and over again. Another male's voice, calm and soothing, tries to tell the others to stop talking, or to quiet down, while another voice, closer than the others, talks directly to me.
"You're safe, sweetheart. You're okay. Come back to us, come back. No one will hurt you. We're here, we'll keep you safe." The more the voice quietly soothes me, the more aware of my surroundings I become. Sounds grow louder, and my vision finally begins to clear, leaving behind the horrors of my prison to be replaced by four concerned faces and a floor covered in broken glass. "There you go. You're alright, Novia. You're safe here, safe with us."
Spencer's voice coaxes me further away from my memories until I'm fully back in the present, staring wide-eyed at a set of hazel coloured eyes that border on a dark gold. My gaze darts to the others, noting the worry on their faces. Nix looks particularly distraught, his deep blue eyes pained.
