My hands that I’ve been keeping to myself take residence on Luc’s chest.
“Rory.” This time his tone’s different. The desperation is still there but it has heat sparking up in me. I wet my lips, arching up, towards those hooded half-lidded eyes.
Suddenly Luc stiffens. His features grow dark, something primal emerging.
“Don’t move.” I barely hear the words Luc murmurs.
‘What?’ I mouth.
“Is he hurting you?” A small voice pipes up behind Luc.
I lean over Luc’s shoulder and lay eyes on the cutest little boy poking a gun into Luc’s back. My heart lurches. I start to panic, fearing he might accidentally pull the trigger but then I get a better look at it.
It’s a toy,I realise. Like a nerf gun or something.
He’s in his pyjamas, clutching a stuffed bunny as he peers up at me.
I remember that Luc can’t see that it’s a toy and probably thinks there’s a very real gun being shoved into his back.
“Luc, it’s just a toy,” I tell him. Darkness flickers into the dangerous, half wild glint in his eyes.
I cup his face in my hands. “Luci, baby, it’s not real. It’s a toy. He’s just a kid,” I murmur softly.
I stroke his cheek with the back of my fingers. He blinks and his confused green eyes lose the sinister edge.
“Miss?” The boy prompts, snapping Luc out of it completely.
I tap Luc’s shoulder and he slowly turns around, placing me on the ground. Luc’s eyes bug out of his head when he sees the little boy.
Sensing Luc needs a moment to deal with the fact that he was being threatened with a fake gun, I take the reins.
I kneel down so I’m the same height as the little boy. He has black glasses with brown, owlish eyes. He must be four or five.
“Hey, sweetie. No, he wasn’t hurting me,” I tell him.
“It looked like he was hurting you,” the boy says warily.
I look around and see there’s no adults around so he must have wandered off.
“Him?” I say playfully, pointing at Luc. “He’s a bit softie,” I stage whisper to the little boy who giggles.
“What’s your name, honey?” I ask him after I reassure him that Luc was most definitely not hurting me.
“Benjamin Faulkner but Mummy calls me Benji,” the little boy picks up my hand and shakes it.
Awww. He’s so cute.
“Well, is it okay if I call you Benji?”
He nods.
“Okay, Benji. My name’s Rory,” I tell him, “and that big teddy bear over there, his name’s Luc.”
Luc kneels down beside me. “Hi, Benji,” he rumbles, shaking Benji’s little hand.
Suddenly there’s fingers on my forehead. “What’s that from?” Benji asks, pointing at my stitches.
“Ummm.” I look across at Luc who shrugs unhelpfully.
