He laughs softly, but it’s strained, like we all are. He pushes off the door frame, crossing the distance to the bathroom. I can hear his boots hitting the floor, his keys and phone dropping onto the side table. He climbs on the mattress, his hand dropping on my hip. “Good point. I’m not moving from your fucking sight. I need to see you. In the morning, I want answers, Tristan, and you will give them to me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sass back. But it’s weak, and we both ignore the small hiccup I make. As soon as he sits, I roll over to face him, hooking my arm around his waist.
“Never been so fucking scared, killer,” he admits, clasping my hand and squeezing it hard.
I press my head against his leg, unable to answer, desperately not wanting to cry. I just want to sleep.
King doesn’t speak, his touches full of everything neither of us can say out loud. The shower cuts off, but neither of us move, or pull apart. And like with King before I know Tyson is waiting at the door to the bathroom.
“Come on, Ty, I’m tired. Stay on top though, if that’s okay,” I say, twisting around and finding him dressed exactly where I thought he would be. He’s shaved, slicked his hair back, trying to look as normal as I am, but like all of us his eyes betray the lie, we’re all fucked up and exhausted.
Flopping down on the pillow again I wait for him to lie behind me before I hold my arm up waiting for a cuddle from the back. I don’t let him pull away. “Sleeping on top might change though.”
It does change.
Within a few minutes, I ask them to undress and get under the blankets with me. I need their skin on mine, their scent inmy lungs, their hands on my hand. The two of them hold me all night long.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
KING
Tristan barely sleeps, and as the hours tick over she gets more frustrated and pissed off that she can’t sleep, until she snaps and yells for Maverick and Steel to join us.
I brush her hair off her face, my thumb trailing softly over the puffy bags under her eyes. And she tries to smile but it’s not like her usual one, or even her working one. With a resigned sigh, she rolls to her side, scooting backwards and pressing her back against my chest. Not nearly close enough though, she criss-crosses my arm over her chest like a seatbelt.
I have to use every inch of strength I have to swallow the rage at how scared she still is. Despite her being sandwiched between Steel and me.
We all knew we’d have moments like this but nothing can prepare you. Seeing someone you’ve obsessed and adored for so long, be so small and quiet absolutely guts you.
But Tris is still herself in a lot of ways too. She’s not shying away from how messed up she is because that’s not her style, instead she is openly, almost loudly showing us how vulnerable she is.
And I’ve never felt so much fucking pride for her.
Of course, she pushes herself into facing off with a large demon from the whole ordeal. Her breathing hitches and her hand shakes as she reaches out to touch Steel’s face.
“Tristan, I’m okay,” he says, trying to allay her fears.
And he knows she’s got conflicting emotions where he’s concerned, it would be impossible not too. I’m sure there’s a part of her that thought Steel was actually dead for a while, considering how long she was alone for she might have thought we were all dead.
She shakes her head, shutting him down while also probably stopping the dark memories holding her back.“I feel like I’m going to puke,” she growls at herself.
I drop my weight onto her, letting her know I’m right behind her, just in case those voices of hers get too bitchy. And Steel reinforces in his own way that he’s real too by letting his hair down, like she loves before gently putting her hand in his hair. Tristan’s fingers bury in his hair, and she starts combing it back.
He makes a deep, satisfied purr and she responds in an instant, her sweet bubble-gum scent slowly but surely overriding the bitterness of her stress and dark thoughts.
Tristan has never hidden her struggles. She’s never hidden much from me period. I’d put money on the voices in her head getting mighty fucking loud about now. Especially in light of us all being alive and as okay as we can be. Because whenever Tristan gets stressed or is deeply affected by something she starts to think she’s forgotten something or isn’t seeing things clearly. It’s difficult to watch, made worse because she knows she does it, but she’s powerless to stop it.
Steel continues to melt under her touch, and I know it’s hard for the both of them. His head would be a mess, guilty after having to force himself on her and force their bonding. We’re all freaking out because she hasn’t said a word about it yet.
“What’s got you most worried, Tristan?” I push, holding her tighter. And yeah, my designation comes into play, taking her freewill not to talk about this but that’s my role in this woman’s life to push her past her fears.
It takes her a while to answer, and in the silence I scent her up. Steel does similar, not as obvious as me rubbing my face on her neck but his scent leaks into the space they share. A couple of seconds later, Tyson and Maverick add their own reminders, the bedroom smells of pack. Her breathing gets a little shaky and Steel, thinking it’s him, backs off but she makes a small noise, hurt by him pulling away. He nabs her hand, marks it up.
There is nothing sexual about how the five of us reconnect with touches and caresses, scents and looks. This is based on rebuilding our fraying pack but I also know in time she will turn it into reclaiming her intimacy because that is who Tristan is. She is a fighter and is stubbornly determined to have whatever her heart desires, in whatever way works best for her too. I have no doubt, we’re going to throw out the recovery rule book when it comes to her.
I bite the back of her neck, rolling her onto her stomach, shrouding her in my own love, until I push her to where she wants to be, which is informed and aware.
