Iclimb in behind Willow, wrapping my arms around her sleeping form and pull her close, inhaling her familiar scent and let the feel of her wash away the evening. I’ve showered, got the blood out from under my fingernails and erased the evidence of the death I caused tonight and now I’m right where I belong.
“You left,” Willow whispers sleepily, wiggling her body against mine to get comfortable as a sigh leaves her.
“I had business to sort,” I tell her, “I’m here now.”
“Is everything okay?” Her voice is raw and croaky, sleep clinging to her.
“It is now.” I don’t elaborate and tell her it’s all okay because of her, because of what she makes me feel, “Sleep, baby, I’ll still be here in the morning.”
A sigh slips from her lips, and I keep hold of her, feeling her body relax as sleep takes hold of her once more and drags her under. I don’t sleep though, too focused on the feel of her body on mine, how right it feels when she’s in my arms.
I hate that she knew I left in the first place, I had hoped I’d be gone and back before she even realized I wasn’t here but the way she has instantly settled and gone back to sleep with my promise of tomorrow tells me it’s okay. These nights, where I crawl back to those fighting pits will likely never change, that I’ll always have demons to fight but she provides this light. A way out in a very dark room.
All thoughts of before empty out as I settle into the bed, with her back to my chest, I don’t think about the man I killed or the conversation with River, it’s just her and the promise of better days to come.
“Where’s Willow?” Killian asks the following day, his elbows resting on his knees and dark shadows under his eyes.
He was in the drawing room when I arrived a few minutes ago, leaving Malakai to say goodbye to his wife as she’s meeting Willow to go shopping.
“Meeting Olivia,” I explain, observing the fatigue lined over his entire face, the way his shoulders areslumped as if he’s just fought a battle and lost. “What’s up man? You look like shit.”
“Charming as always, Bast,” Killian rolls his neck and then glances at me. There’s something there, something I don’t fucking like. Turmoil. Regret. Fucking guilt. What the fuck has he done!? “But nothing, I’m fine. Just not sleeping great.”
I don’t believe him one damn bit, I open my mouth to say as much but Malakai strolls into the room, Dean not far behind.
As Malakai begins to explain what we have to do today, I tune out and glance back to Kill. This guy has been one of my best friends for years, I know when something is fucking with him and that look on his face tells me something big is happening. But with all of us, we bottle it up until it explodes, and I know pushing him to tell me will only close him up.
“You listening, Bast?” Malakai snaps his fingers.
I snap my attention back to him, “No,” I answer honestly.
He grunts his annoyance, “We’re meeting Richard Taylor at a restaurant in two hours.”
“A fucking restaurant?” I sneer.
“He wants eyes and witnesses,” Dean says, “Guys a fucking coward.”
“What does he think we will do?” I roll my eyes.
“Shoot him,” Malakai shrugs, “After that shit with Christian, he thinks we hold him accountable.”
“I do.” I pace the room, “That fucker should have been ended weeks ago.”
Malakai stares at me but I stare right back, making my resentment of that decision known. And even though my friend, my fucking brother in everything but blood, doesn’t back down, he does tilt his head in an understanding nod. It’s not a ‘I was wrong,’ nod, more a‘You’ll have the chance soon.’Kind of gesture.
I hope he’s fucking right.
“He wants to discuss Christian,” Malakai continues, “Since he still hasn’t been found after leaving the hospital.”
“What about him?”
With a shrug, Malakai gets up from his desk, “I guess we will find out.”
All four of us sit around a table in an almost empty restaurant, drinks left untouched. The table is the furthest one at the back, in a somewhat secluded corner but there are tables close by that if they weren’t vacant, would hear the conversation. Not something I miss. Richard really does want an audience and a way to keep voices and conversation on the down low.
I see Richard enter first, followed by a big man at hisside that I guess is some kind of personal bodyguard. He walks over casually but I see the tension in his shoulders and grin. This guy is scared, as he damn well should be.
“Mr. Farrow,” Richard nods to Malakai, “Gentlemen.”
