My body went solid, and despite every fiber of my being demanding I force her to take comfort from me, I managed to take a step back. “He can’t hurt you anymore,” I swore, slowly lifting my hands in surrender.
“He can always hurt me!” Her voice broke as she drew her knees to her chest. “He won’t stop.” Her hands trembled as she swung her unfocused gaze around the room. “He’ll come for her. He’ll kill me, and then he’ll take her.”
“Babe, look at me,” I pushed, careful to keep my voice even. “He won’t. I won’t let him.”
“He will, and he’ll kill you too. He won’t stop until everyone I care about is gone. He’ll kill Roman, he’ll kill Elisabeth, he’ll kill you, and then he’ll kill me and take her.”
After this shit, I wished like hell Walter Noir would come for me so I could end this for her once and for all. I should have killed him that day on his driveway. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. The next time I saw that coward, he would leave in a body bag—my bullet in his head.
“Breathe, Clare.”
“This is not happening,” she choked out, covering her mouth with her hand. “Please, God, tell me this is not happening.”
“What do you need, Clare?” I asked for no other reason than I knew her answer and I needed her to let me in before my arms tore free of my body in order to get to her.
“He’s going to take you both from me.”
“He won’t. I swear to God. Nothing. No one, not ever, will take me from you. Or her from us,” I swore, dropping into a squat to bring our eyes level.
Her wild gaze bounced to mine, but she didn’t see me. Hollow orbs so far from the woman I knew stared back at me. I couldn’t even be sure my Clare was still in there. But I would forage through the pits of Hell to bring her back.
“Clare!” I barked, slamming my palms down on the hardwood floor, desperation overriding my patience.
And, finally, fucking finally, Clare reappeared in the depths of her blue eyes.
But it was Clare the frightened and tortured woman I’d met all those months ago.
It shattered me.
“Get. Over. Here,” I ordered, hating myself for being so rough, but nothing else was getting through to her.
A flash of recognition hit her face for only a second before she tore off the floor, flew across the room, and dove into my arms.
She collided with my chest, knocking me back onto my heels before I was able to right myself.
Sobs shook her chest as she buried her face in my neck, her nails digging into my back.
And, even still, I breathed a ragged sigh of relief.
“I’ve got you,” I swore, rising to my feet.
Her legs encircled my hips the way she had just over a week ago when I’d carried her out of Walter’s gate. Only, this time, I couldn’t carry her out of the darkness.
The best I could do was carry her upstairs, get Tessa, and then shut the door on the entire fucking world.
It wasn’t enough.
She deserved so much fucking more.
But it was all I could do.
That and rip Noir’s head from his spineless body the first chance I got.
That “giving” bullshit was becoming impossible.
Clare had been curled into my side, blankly staring into space, for over an hour. I wanted to force her to talk to me so I could get into her head. I’d told myself to be patient, to let her open up when she was ready, but it was breaking me.
“Say something,” I urged when the silence had become too much.
“Something,” she whispered.
“I’m serious, Clare.”
“I’m fine,” she replied with absolutely zero conviction.
“Do you want me to get Tessa?”
“Is she with Elisabeth?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
I groaned.
“You want to eat?”
“No.”
“You want—”
“Please stop.”
I closed my eyes and sighed.
For seven days, I’d watched her bruises fade and a completely different woman emerge.
For seven days, I’d listened to her laugh with abandon and watched her smile as if her mouth had never known anything else.
For seven days, I watched her rise up stronger and more confident than ever before.
Or so I’d hoped.
It had taken one sentence to crush her.
Maybe I was delusional thinking I could fix her so easily.
But that fucking cloud of denial we’d been living on was the sweetest thing I’d ever experienced.
I hadn’t laughed as much in my entire life as I did when I was with her. And, every night as I watched her fall asleep, her lips curled in a serene smile, it filled me in unimaginable ways.
The first time I’d kissed her forehead as she’d slept, I had known it was wrong. It was taking at its finest. But I couldn’t stop myself. My body ached to touch her and not just when she needed me. Sometimes, I needed her. And, as the days passed, the ache became agonizing. It sure as fuck didn’t help when she stared at my mouth as though the ache had found her too.
No lines had been crossed. Yet.
But they would be eventually. A fact that taunted my dreams on a nightly basis.
I was fucked.
And not in a good way.
I’d managed to keep my hands off her for a full seven days.