Page 58 of Out for Blood
I pull her against me before she can sink back into her own head again. Her body is rigid before the tension loosens, her fingers knotting the front of my vest.
“There is nothing wrong with wanting monsters to suffer,” I tell her grimly. “After what we saw in that house? After what they did?” I let out a bitter scoff in disbelief, “You are not what they made you become in that room.”
The steady cadence of her breathing splinters apart. “But I lost control.”
“You lost yourself in it,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
I press my mouth against the top of her head.
“Cassidy, listen to me.”
I lower my forehead to hers, letting it rest there for a flash of time, like I’m trying to hold together the pieces she thinks became something monstrous tonight.
“You came back to me. You don’t get to disappear on me,” I murmur. “Not into that darkness. Not alone.”
I lean back enough to look at her again; blood coated on our skin now from where she anchors herself to me.
That finally breaks something open inside her.
Tears spill down her face, silent and devastating.
Relief hits me so hard my legs nearly give out.
Tears mean she’s feeling again.
I gather her back against my chest, supporting her while the weight of everything crashes into us both.
We stay tangled together, grounding ourselves in each other.
The room feels suffocating now. Thick with death. With rage. With everything that transpired tonight.
Her lungs finally stop fighting for air as her breathing regulates.
I bury my face against the side of her neck and close my eyes, attempting to stabilize both of us.
“Cass.” My voice comes out controlled.
She doesn’t answer.
I reposition my hands around her waist instead.
“You need to get out of those clothes.”
She’s slipping away somewhere I might not be able to guide her back from if I wait too long.
She wets her lips and swallows.
“I can still feel it,” she whispers, sounding hollow. “That room. Them.”
Shudders roll over me hearing her say that.
She meets my eyes and her stare is vacant again.
I cup her jaw possessively.
“Go into the bedroom and let me take care of you for a minute.”
For a heartbeat, I see past the steel and sharp edges. I see the woman underneath, bruised by memories, exhausted by the weight of them, and still somehow standing. Then she tucks it all away again.
