“We can’t let them see us here,” I said, grabbing Saint’s hand and running out from under the boathouse roof. “We need to get back up to the house and tell Fennick and Lucas that they’re coming.”
“Wait!” Saint shouted, alarm ringing from him as we dashed out into the driving rain. “They might not be coming.”
I ran a few more yards, making it about halfway up to the house, before turning to see what Saint was looking at over his shoulder. Sure enough, the boat wasn’t actually getting closer. It was bobbing like it was made of cork on the rough seas. If I had to guess, I’d’ve said it was a fairly big boat and it was easily half a mile away from the shore. I knew in my gut that it was the Dumfries gang trying to do the handoff before the storm got too bad.
Except they must have miscalculated. The storm had rolled in before they could accomplish their mission. The boat wasn’t actually getting closer, and the longer Saint and I stood there, being punished by the rain, the more certain I was that the boat was turning around and motoring away. We’d definitely just been handed an amazing reprieve from?—
Before I could finish my thoughts, lightning split the sky, crashing into the boathouse and lighting the whole roof up for a second. The strike was so close that it took my breath away and left every hair on my body standing on end. Dad had made sure the boathouse had lightning rods and was grounded years ago,but that didn’t stop the flash or the ungodly loud sound of the metal roof stressing with the jolt of electricity.
That sound was bad, but the scream that ripped from Saint’s lungs, combined with the abject horror I felt radiating from him, was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Saint clutched his face, specifically his forehead where the scar sliced across it, and sank to his knees.
“No! No! Papa! Daddy! No!” he shouted hunching in on himself on the wet grass.
He gripped his head tighter and started rocking and wailing. The fear that slammed me through him was nearly enough to buckle my knees. My alpha was in so much pain, and I didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Saint
Iwas right back there, hurling through the sky in darkness punctuated only by flashes of lightning and sickly sparks as the plane’s electrical system tore apart. The sudden cold and the screams of terror were all around me, the lashing rain and ripping metal. My small body was tossed around like a branch whipping in the wind. The only thing holding me to my seat was the tight belt around my waist.
Not everyone wore a belt. Bodies and small bags were flung everywhere as the dying drone of the plane’s engine whined louder, then softer, then louder again. “Papa!” I shouted as my Papa flung out an arm in a vain attempt to protect me.
I saw his pale, determined face in a flash of light, and then everything went dark on impact.
I thought I could still hear the moan of the single engine that hadn’t been smashed to pieces when we hit the field a quarter of a mile from the airport, but with a start, I realized that was me. The sounds swelling up from my lungs were harsh and pitiful.The rain that beat down on my naked back wasn’t the same from the storm that had brought down the plane. I wasn’t a terrified child strapped in an airplane seat, his papa’s arm across his chest like he had the power to stop death from taking his boy.
“It’s okay,” a gentle voice said right next to me on the ground. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
That voice was inside me as well as next to me. It was calm and warm. The arms that embraced me, albeit awkwardly, weren’t my papa’s, but they were just as comforting.
“You’re okay, Saint,” Linus murmured again, resting his cheek against my shaking shoulder. “I’m right here. It’s just a storm. It can’t hurt you. I’m not going to let it hurt you.”
There were no words for the emotion that welled up in my heart and spread like liquid gold through the rest of my body, all the way out to my fingers and toes. I’d never known such quiet affection, such gentle surety. I twisted slightly to lean into Linus’s body, clutching him in a desperate embrace. As clumsy and potentially overwhelming as my gesture was, Linus still felt steady and caring through our bond, like he’d been waiting his whole life to show me the comfort I needed.
Another flash of lightning lit the sky, and a few seconds later, thunder rolled. I tightened my grip on my omega, but he didn’t shrink away or leave me. The compassion coming through our bond only grew, imbuing me with the belief that I really would be okay.
“We need to get back into the house,” Linus said, nudging me so I would stand. “This storm is nowhere near over.”
I nodded and pulled myself together enough to stand. More than that, without thinking about it, I picked Linus up, cradling him in my arms and carrying him toward the back porch like he was the one who had needed rescuing and not me. It seemed backwards, but carrying him felt like carrying the wounded child that I’d once been.
The house was quiet once we stepped through the back porch door into the den, dripping wet. I could only assume that Fenn was upstairs with Lucas, who must have been in the midst of another heat wave. I didn’t like being downstairs in the open rooms, so I carried Linus straight up to his bedroom, so glad to shut the door behind us.
“Are you okay?” Linus asked once I set him on his feet again.
I blinked at him as my thoughts coalesced again. “Haven’t you been telling me I’m okay this whole time?” I asked, my voice rough with emotion still.
Linus smiled, but it wasn’t mocking or unkind. “You’re okay,” he said, relief and affection radiating from him. “Stay right here while I fetch some towels from the hall closet.”
He turned and dashed back out to the hall. A sick feeling of loss pulled at my stomach as I watched his lithe body disappear around the corner, but I could still feel him. I stopped myself from going after him and forced a few deep breaths while waiting for his return.
I’d had flashbacks before, but none that strong for years. There were no words to describe how terrifying it was to find myself back in that place of death and pain. After all these years, that part of my brain still remembered it all vividly and tormented me with the whole thing. It wasn’t fair, it infuriated me, but there was not a damn thing I could do about it.
I drew in another breath and forced myself to focus on my body and the present, like I often counselled patients to do. It didn’t really help, though. I was safe and whole and a grown man, not a child, but I stood naked and dripping on Linus’s carpet, my heart still beating fast, shame and embarrassment starting to rush in as the adrenaline of the moment left. What kind of alpha and protector was I if I fell apart over something as ordinary as a thunderstorm?
“Hey, hey, now,” Linus said, coming back into the room with an armful of fluffy towels in pastel shades. He shut the door behind him with his foot, then rushed to the bed, dumping the towels there. “None of that,” he said as he grabbed one from the top and came over to wrap it around my shoulders. “Fear and sadness I can accept from you,” he said. “Shame and guilt aren’t allowed.”
My brow shot up. How did he know?—
