by Kat Kenyon
Her skin’s mottled, the bone deep bruising taking a long time to heal. Her ribs are still cracked, the cuts on her back from the alley’s broken glass are still mending, and the finger he broke won’t heal for several more weeks.
She’s so fucking strong.
She’s running and dancing even though it brings tears to her eyes and she can’t laugh without pain. Technically, she shouldn’t be doing any of it. Not dancing, not running, but she won’t listen. Every follow-up doctor appointment, and every shot they give her to make sure she doesn’t get sick from what that fuck did, sends her right back to physical absolution. She welcomes the pain as if she relishes abusing herself.
It pisses me off.
So, I’m celebrating even tiny smiles. Every brief ray of sunshine that touches her, I try to magnify.
“Baby, whatever you want.” I lean back in the dining room chair and grin at her, encouraging the almost positive attitude she’s had since we woke up. “After class I have some game film I have to watch. Coach has a stack of stuff for me to review, I just need to pick it up.”
“Sounds good. Who’s with us?” She grabs the assignment we’ve been messing with, staring at hers for a moment before she shoves it in a folder.
“Neil’s on point today.”
She gives me a quick nod and breathes out, “Okay.” Her voice is stronger than it’s been in a while. “As long as a Shadow is with me when you go to Dixon.”
“Always.” I give the back of her hand a soft stroke.
She flips her hand over and squeezes mine. I’m glad she’s calm because I don’t know how she’ll take what I have to say next. “But, baby, we’re going to need to add a team member to the group. Neil wants to make sure you have round the clock coverage and his team needs more breaks.”
New men, dangerous ones at that. The rise of her chest quickens, and a slight hiss slipping from her lips, are the only outward signs of struggle she shows before she sighs. “I know.”
She’s accepted the team we have, but after we went back to class last week, Vindex realized the job would take more manpower than expected. With them running her security, mine, and a manhunt, Neil and Sam need more people.
“Neil said you can review them,” I say.
“I like the team I have.” Her nose scrunching.
Shit’s still adorable, even in the middle of hell.
“But you need more.”
She finally lets go and rolls her eyes as she shoves her homework in her backpack, wordlessly saying all the things an annoyed girlfriend thinks. So much so, that I find myself chuckling at the silent cussing out she’s giving me, expecting to get smacked with her homework or mine.
Not that it’d change much. In most things, I’ll give her whatever she wants, but this one thing isn’t up for debate. The paparazzi have gotten out of control since the beach. They’ve chased us in the car, followed me on campus, and one actually took pictures of me in class. Not to mention the students who’ve harassed me for information and the online bullshit. She’s getting the best protection I can buy. Especially with him still out there.
I don’t know what he’d do right now if he got his hands on her and I don’t want to find out. Weeks and that fucker is still on the run. We know his dad has to be helping him because there’s no way he’s been evading the cops for a full month on his own. He knows he’s in deep shit and that makes him even more dangerous. Which means no one gets close to her.
She reads my face and sticks her tongue out. “Get me a new Shadow,” she mutters.
“I love you,” I tell her, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand. Her skin’s soft and warm; her pulsing heartbeat is the center of my life. I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect her.
“I love you too.” Her chest rises and falls with a wave of pain from her ribs. “I’m sorry, Tyler, I just…” Her eyelashes close, shuttering like a camera lens.
It hurts when she closes her eyes to me.
“You never need to be sorry.” Cupping her cheek, I try to send the truth through the invisible threads that bind us. “I have one job. Love you. And loving you right, includes making sure you’re safe.” Her eyes get glassy as her body slumps. Unconsciously, my thumb finds the lips I get to kiss, yet miss desperately. “Just focus on finding your feet, okay?”
Pressing gently against my thumb, she subtly pulls it between her teeth, then releases, and for a brief moment we’re in another time. Before. Her hands find my belt loops, trying to tug me from my chair, and the subtle jerk on my hips makes me smile. A real one, complete with a cocking of the eyebrow.
Turning it around on her, I pull her onto my lap, resting my hands at the small of her back when she buries her face in my chest, curling into me.
“I don’t know why you’re still here,” she whispers into my shirt.
Tilting her head back, there are tears even as she tries to smile. When her hands slip around my neck and her mouth finds mine, my heart cracks again, my jagged edges lining up with hers.
Her tongue grazes along the seam of my mouth. It’s tentative, gentle and I don’t open at first. She hasn’t done this in weeks and I’m terrified…terrified she’ll get scared. I want her to be sure. To actually want me. Not for her to feel like she has to do anything to make me happy, so I hold still until she pulls my hair. Then I give her what she wants, letting her take the kiss where she’s demanding, the air sawing in and out of my chest.
It’s a kiss. Our first real kiss in a month, and it. Means. Everything.
I die a dozen small deaths as she kisses away weeks of aching for her. Of watching her fold in on herself. Of wrapping myself around her to keep her together. Because we’re still there beneath it all. I’ll wait forever if she needs me to. I’ll wait even if this is all I ever get—if this is as far as it goes ever again.
It only lasts seconds, not even a minute, but it’s enough. She’s enough, and when she rocks back, I want to hold on, but I don’t. Right now, everything that can be up to her, has to be up to her.
“I’ll always be here.”
“I know.” She buries her face in my neck and squeezes hard, even as she winces from the pressure on her ribs. “I don’t know why you’re willing to live through this with me, but I don’t care. I’m selfish, and you make things better.”
She exhales and I press my lips to her hair, trying to will what I feel into her. She thinks of me as home, her safe space, and I am exactly what she thinks I am, only much more dangerous.
I played nice last time.
For months Gabe stalked her and the school did nothing. I did nothing. He assaulted her multiple times, and the school did nothing, and I didn’t do what I should have. When we got back together, and he threatened her, I stood back like they demanded.
I didn’t beat him into submission the way I wanted to, like he deserved. No, I let the school “talk” to him. I let them call campus security. I listened to Coach Mills, to Kinnerk, to the therapist. I listened to Dean Lister when he talked to Rayne and promised they’d handle things.
Fuck. That.
Fuck them.
I want the bastard dead, not captured. I don’t want her having to think about him ever again. I don’t want her having to testify. If I get my hands on Gabe Stevens, I will kill him.
I don’t say that to her. I don’t tell her that all my violence has returned, plus interest. She doesn’t need to deal with it. But it’s there. In the meantime, I’m the storm circling, creating an eye of calm around her and I’ll rain hell on anyone who comes for her.
Chapter Three
Rayne Mathews
I didn’t know I could kiss him until I did, and I cling to his vibrating intensity until I can’t breathe. I press my forehead to his and take in the flaring gold in his hazel eyes, the telltale sign that he’s turned on. He’s so gentle with me, making these feelings safe for me to remember. Making me safe.
His hands slowly rise, passing a whisper of a touch across my face as he drops a soft peck on the
corner of my mouth, his fingers gently threading through my hair as he looks at me. Heartbreaking adoration fills his face and the pure masculinity of his bone structure can’t compete with the softness of his eyes.
I don’t deserve him. I’m a mess and I don’t know when I won’t be.
Almost as if he can hear my thoughts, his face changes and he breaks up my pity party by rattling my head gently with his hands. “Getchya shit, baby. We’ve got class.” Flashing me his signature megawatt smile, I’m stunned stupid for a moment.
I forgot. Class.
Laughing to myself, I nod and stand when he pats my ass. He’s given me something amazing twice already and the day’s just beginning. He’s managed to make the last week better than every day of last month put together. My days are bearable because of him. He’s the best part of me right now. He’s the part that’s not afraid. The part that believes in tomorrow. That believes it’ll get better. That I’ll get better.
He shoots me a set of duck lips, making me laugh as I go into our room and pull my stuff together for dance class. When we leave, two guards stand silently on either side of the door. They each smile and nod at us as Tyler engages four different types of locks. When he’s done, he slings both his bags over his shoulder and takes my backpack, still grabbing my free hand before we head down the hall. It’s an odd sensation to have two men trailing behind us as we walk hand in hand toward two more by the elevator, although one of them has become a reassuring sight.
Neil Dean’s full beard is carefully groomed, and with his longish dark brown hair, he might be mistaken for fashionable, until those heavy brows pull down and you recognize that those eyes are there to judge the world, not be judged. The scar that runs through his left brow and across his nose, show he’s earned the right to be critical, but he hasn’t been critical of us, of me.
“Morning,” he says as we reach him, the elevator opening as if by magic.
Neil and the guard with him slip in ahead of us with the other two guards following behind. Once the doors close, the smoky mirrored walls allow me to see all four standing quietly on guard for the moment the doors open. They feel imposing but not dangerous, and it was one of the things that made it easier for me to accept them.
The other thing I see is Tyler was right. They’ve been working overtime, because I notice Neil’s beard is longer than it was when we met. Keeping it short has moved behind other priorities, like making me safe.
A conversation with Bay flashes in my head. He warned me once upon a time that I’d have the same kind of protection as the Pope. Too bad it was too late.
Nope, shut the hell up.
It’s not too late. They’ve taken care of things since the beach house when the other security team allowed a photographer to get a pictures of me and he sold the images to everyone.
Tyler thinks I don’t know how much attention it got, but I do. Deep down he must know it was just wishful thinking. He never said much about it, just that he’d handle it. And for the most part he has. He doesn’t think I know how he threatened legal retaliation against everyone and God, and for his sake, I pretend I don’t. Just like I know the Shadows have far more men protecting us than I see. There are more than the men at every entrance or the ones who drive us everywhere. Tyler has men out there doing things to protect me that I don’t want to know about, so I don’t ask. I know they don’t want to upset me, and I work hard to let all the men in my life feel like they’ve insulated me.
But they can’t. Not really. All the horrible things said online are still there. The media reaches every digital device to mess with my head, and if I want to go out, there will be eyes on us. The best I can do when we get to school is let them watch for threats and leave their hands free to take care of anything that comes our way.
And be grateful.
Vindex is as visible or invisible as they choose to be, and when we get to campus they choose to fade into the background, but Tyler stays by my side as long as he can, a sentinel on a hair trigger even as he smiles and cracks jokes.
When I split off to dance class, Neil is with me, along with a full complement of guards, blending into strange spaces, appearing next to me as we walk the paths, giving me the confidence to get through the few classes I have this afternoon.
My dance professors are all aware of what happened and assure me I don’t need to be here. Each time I walk into a class, my teachers smile with warmth and no small amount of concern at every wince and bruise that shows. They don’t understand I’m here for me. That the feel of the hardwood is good for me. The pain…necessary. Pain is cleansing and I need it to purge the ugliness.
When I’m done for the day, Neil and his team take me home, making sure I’m inside the apartment and okay while Tyler is still in class. When they leave, I grab a glass of water and some veggies with hummus and sink into a chair at the table, pulling out the homework from the classes I still haven’t gone back to. Putting the assignments in order of deadline, I flip open my laptop and begin. For the first time in weeks, the letters on the screen make sense on the first read through. It feels like such a big step to have this kind of focus again. Letters make words, words make sentences, and it feels good that the pressure in my chest isn’t just pain, but power. Fluttering with knowledge that I can do this, each paragraph adds new information, and in no time the first assignment is done, and tears come down, laughter pouring out. Wiping my eyes, I grab the next assignment and go again, feeling amazing.
When Tyler walks through the door, I get up and wrap my arms around him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His bags drop to the floor, hugging me gently. “You have a good day?”
“I did.” I smile against his chest. “You hungry?”
I look up and his answering smirk and wink are followed by a pinch on my ass. “Yes, woman, make me dinner.”
A mini snarl escapes, ruined by my laughter. “You should just order pizza if you gonna do that.”
“Thin crust, garlic aioli, spinach, mushroom, feta.”
Shaking my head, I press my fingers to his lips and pull away. “I’ll make dinner while you work.”
The gentle brush of his lips on the top of my head even as he pinches me again is my thank you. He settles in with a monster stack of work across from mine and gets started. Later, when dinner is over, he cleans up and we both study for a while longer. When we give up, I read while he watches ESPN. It’s an almost completely normal day.
• • • •
Sleep still doesn’t come easy, but it does come. The nightmares come too, but Tyler’s there to rescue me when I wake up choking on fear, his body a reminder I’m not there. Not waiting for another punch, another kick. I’m not pressed to saturated concrete with a puddle under my face that fill my lungs every other breath as the sky beats an ocean down on me. His heartbeat and quiet words, his gentle rocking, puts me back to sleep where my body can continue to heal.
When we wake up, there’s a softness about how we move around each other as we get ready. He showers while I clean myself in a tub with barely-there water that doesn’t make me feel like I’m dying.
Our breakfast is quick, and when I go to get ready for the drive, he gives me a soft pat on my ass and chuckles as I swat at him. Giggling to myself as I walk into the bedroom, the noise is strange to my own ears. Unwilling to give up the feeling, I find myself humming, while dragging my dance bag to the foot of the bed. Grabbing socks and the rest of what I need, I start throwing my shoes on when I hear the door.
I didn’t know anyone was coming today.
No one can just walk up to our door—Neil makes sure of it. We always know who’s coming, so it has to be one of the Shadows, because while we’re not running late yet, we will be soon. Even as I struggle to tie my shoe, I yell to reassure them I’m almost ready. When no one answers, I freeze. There’s mumbling coming from the living room, followed by Tyler’s angry voice.
“No! You can’t fucking come in!”
My body flares red hot, tight with
tension.
That isn’t a Shadow at the door.
I try to tamp down on my chattering teeth, because they won’t let anything happen to me.
Why do I have a headache?
“No, I’m calling our attorney. You have no fucking right. Stay outside.” Tyler’s wrath is breathable through the air.
I don’t want to know. It’ll be fine.
Other voices rise in contest and I can hear Tyler’s voice rise to shouting. “Neil, keep them the fuck outside, what the fuck do I pay you for?”
“Sir, we have a court order. You need to step aside or be arrested.” It’s the first time a new voice creeps through, and they’re not at the front door.
“How the fuck do you have a court order?”
“Sir, her mother has the right to see to her mental health. You have withheld her from—” He’s closer.
My hands drop like they are made of lead. What’s Emily got to do with anything?
“Her mother doesn’t have any rights; I have her power of attorney. There’s no way your court order is legal.” Tyler’s closer now too, but I can’t seem to move.
“Take it up with a judge.”
There’s a scuffle and I hear Neil telling them they need to wait, but the sound of footsteps keep coming as I hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and the threat of arrest from another strange voice.
They’re coming.
The bedroom door opens and all the good from the last couple of days drains away, blackness filling the space.
“You guys are going to retraumatize her. Just wait until we make a call,” Neil says.
I can’t see, and they don’t care what he says, when a voice that’s too close says, “We’re taking her in on a fifty-one fifty. You’ll be able to see her in three days.”
