“Mama.”
Chapter 48 – Xavier
“Mama!”
The eerie cry had me leaping off the couch and to my feet. I neared the bed. The pillow gripped in tight fists, her lips parted in haunting groans, Mikaela rolled her head from side to side. Sweat glistened on flushed skin, her legs thrashing beneath the covers.
“Mikaela,” I called out, touching a hand to her brow. Her eyes shot open. The look on her face wild, feral, unrecognizable, nothing like the innocent girl who’d lived under my roof for the last few months. “Mic—”
She shoved my hand on her cheek, jumped off the bed in a quick vault, landed on her knees, and crawled to one corner of the room. Cramming her slender body against the perpendicular walls, she tucked her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Rocking her taut body, she dropped her brow to her knees, murmuring incoherent words repeatedly.
My heart in a grinder, I opened the drawer in the nightstand, withdrew her ribbon then lowered my body to the floor, moving toward her. “Mikaela?”
She didn’t acknowledge my voice, didn’t lift her head, just kept swaying. I sighed inwardly, forcing my anger-infused muscles to relax. She didn’t need that right now. I crept closer until I was within arm’s length if she reached out.
“Cinder,” I said softly. Slowly, her head lifted, her eyes red-rimmed and glazed found mine. “It’s Xavier, love. No one is going to hurt you.” On all fours, I inched closer until her exhales became my inhales. Wordlessly, she placed her hand on my chest, closing her eyes. “That’s it. Feel my heartbeat. Listen to my voice. You’re safe. Breathe,” I soothed.
We stayed that way for an eternity until she finally opened her eyes, her expression relaxing in recognition. I held out the ribbon she’d decided was safer in the drawer and easy to reach when she needed it. Her hand on my chest moved to accept the ribbon. She fingered it for a bit, her smile growing in contemplative increments, probably recalling special moments the ribbon had witnessed.
“Would you like to tell me?”
Mismatched eyes full of uncertainty flicked up from the ribbon to me. Sighing, I accepted she’d decline the offer to talk. Surprisingly, she nodded. I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Not sure about her state of fragility just yet, I asked permission. “Can I pick you up?”
“Yes.”
Lifting onto my knees, I scooped her into my arms, straightened, and carried her over to the bed. With my back against the headboard, I sat, spreading my legs a little to accommodate her on my lap. One arm around her back, I let her lean into my body, her knees a pyramid over my other leg. I reached for the blanket and covered her. When I looked up, it was to find Mikaela studying me, her brow creased, her eyes sad, yet a small smile shaded her lips.
“Take it slow,” I ran a gentle finger along her jawline. Taking the ribbon from her hand, I tied it around her wrist.
Once done, she rested her head on my chest and while playing with the buttons on my shirt, she relayed her story. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Sixty Six...”
I listened intently while she spoke. That sick bastard deserved to die for making the child watch. Then again, death was too easy for him. As though she felt my anger, Mikaela caressed my chest, silently asking me to calm down.
“Every time he hurt her mother, Master would bring her a gift...” she continued.
