Page 20 of Equilibrium
We stepped outside of the bathroom, with her in my arms, once again clinging to my neck. Her naked body should’ve made me needy, but the only thing I wanted to do right now after seeing all the marks on her skin was to hold her. I placed her gently on the bed, followed by the protest from her lips, and the wide blue eyes searching for mine.
“I can’t exactly sleep in wet clothes.”
I pulled the shirt off my body, followed by my pants and my underwear. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her, and it made something inside my chest flutter with pride. She liked what she saw. She liked it a lot.
I walked toward the dresser opposite of the bed and pulled out a fresh pair of underwear. She didn’t move an inch from where I put her, and as soon as I started walking back toward her, with my underwear on, she moved back, all the way to the headboard.
“Easy there.” I sat next to her and pulled her into my lap. “You’re still hurt.”
“I hate this,” she mumbled. “I hate being weak.”
I frowned at her words, but I understood. I would hate feeling weak as well, even if there was nothing wrong with it.
“Sometimes our bodies need to take a break, Ophelia. This isn’t you being weak, this is you being strong for way too long.”
She didn’t reply, but instead she wrapped herself around me, nestling as if this wasn’t the first time for her to be in my bed, in my arms. I should’ve felt cold after that shower, but my skin sizzled from her nearness, from her body.
This was what I was looking for all these years. This was what I’d been missing, what always should’ve been with me. She didn’t seem to want to talk, and I was fine with it.
I was fine with holding her for as long as she would allow me. Even if it were just for a minute, I would be happy—for now.
She wanted to find her sister, and I was going to help her, but not before she finally started healing. Not before she finally started talking to me and accepting this thing between us. All these years I thought I imagined the connection I shared with her. All these years I thought that my mind came up with this idea of her until I saw her in that church.
This thing between us, it was a living, breathing thing, and I wasn’t going to let go. Time was all I had these days, and if she needed years to understand that she was never going to be without me, so be it, I could wait.
I would’ve waited centuries for her to come to me.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled against my skin. “But I just woke up.”
“Then let’s sleep.”
I moved my body lower until my back hit the mattress, taking her with me. The comforter was hunched underneath my legs, and I kicked it higher until I could reach it with my hand. With one, I held her close to me, holding her neck and threading my fingers through her wet hair, and with the other one, I pulled the comforter over our bodies, shutting the outside world completely from us.
Gradually, she relaxed against my hold, her body going slack from exhaustion. I hummed again, creating my own version of a lullaby for her. It seemed to relax her even further, and the next thing I knew, her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed down.
My own body seemed to take note from her and decided to shut down. I was wired to stay up for days on end, but all I needed now was to hold her close and sleep with her.
No one was going to take her away from me. That I could promise.
I felt ridiculous today.
I was not exactly known for my happy, frilly feelings or breaking apart like I did last night, but there I was, twenty-four years in my ass, and I bawled like a little baby on the chest of a man that technically kidnapped me. I couldn’t shake off the memories of him washing my hair, my body, taking care of me when all I wanted to do was to crumble into a pathetic ball and disappear.
That’s it, I was most definitely losing my mind. There was no other explanation for the fuckery that had happened last night.
Or maybe you don’t want to admit that his soft side calmed you down.
Oh, fuck off. No, I wasn’t going to admit that his soft touch and the way he looked at me unraveled the part of my soul I kept hidden inside. He fucking touched me like he cared for me, and when he washed my hair, when he touched my skin in such a slow manner, I almost crumbled to my feet.
I cried for the seventeen-year-old Ophelia that was thrown into this vicious world, and I cried for twenty-four-year-old Ophelia that never knew how it felt to have somebody really care for her. I was pathetic, wasn’t I? I was tired. That’s it.
I was tired and that’s why I dropped all my defenses last night. That’s why I sought him, why I needed him to keep the darkness at bay. That was why his touch meant much more than I wanted it to.
Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted him with me last night. Ever since I woke up yesterday, ever since Atlas brought me outside to see the rest of the club, the only person I wanted to see was Storm. I thought about the butterflies in one’s stomach Ava mentioned so many times, and this thing inside of me, those weren’t butterflies. No, it felt like a stampede of elephants running through me whenever I thought about him.
He wanted answers I couldn’t give him right now. I was still too angry, too wound up to even start that conversation. If he wanted to pretend like he didn’t know that I came back here to search for him, then so be it. But stampede or not, I wasn’t going to fall for his antics this time. No, there were more important things I had to focus on, and Storm couldn’t be one of them.
My mind was already split between what I needed to do and what I wanted to do. Mixing him with all the other things I had to think about wasn’t good.
