Chapter 16
Amara
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Agentle knock at thedoor has me startling out of the bed I’ve been tossing and turning in for hours.
“Coming, one sec.”
My leg is nothing worse than a twinge of tight skin and sore muscles as I shove the dresser away from the door. When I finally pull it open, Raiden’s standing there completely at ease, not commenting on the fact that I barricaded myself inside in a failed attempt to get some sleep. He simply offers me a can of soda, his stormy gaze unreadable.
“I figured I’d err on the side of caution and skip the coffee, but you’re welcome to a mug if you’d prefer. Unfortunately, this is the only thing Kodi has to drink in the house that’s fully sealed.” He passes over the peace offering with a grimace.
“This is perfect, thanks. Anything outside of a french vanilla cappuccino is a cup of disappointing bean water in my book, anyway.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “Noted.”
Cracking open the can, I down half of it before coming up for air. “Where are the others?”
“Sleeping,” he declares easily, taking a sip of his coffee. “But for the life of me I couldn’t, and was about to head out to the patio. I heard you tossing and turning, so assumed you might be suffering the same predicament. Care to join me?”
Capitalizing on the chance to explore, I nod, rolling my borrowed sweatpants a few more times. Once I’m fairly confident I’m not going to trip, I follow him down the hall, through the kitchen, and out into the crisp, early morning air. It’s still dark, but waning, the faint light of the impending sunrise beginning to lighten the sky. The wooden deck holds a hot tub, a few chairs, and a small table, but he bypasses them to sit on the steps leading out to the fenced-in backyard. Flicking another glance at the chairs, debating on dragging one over, I shove the impulse away with a wave of determination.
Keeping what little distance between us that I can, I take a seat beside him on the top step. He doesn’t attempt to strike up a conversation, and within minutes, the calm sense of peace settles my erratic thoughts. We simply sit in companionable silence, sipping our drinks until the sun finally crests the horizon.
Once mine’s gone, I set the empty can aside, fiddling with my way-too-long sleeves. “Any particular reason you couldn’t sleep? You know, besides getting blown up and everything.”
Mentally slapping myself before I can fall down the anxious-rambling rabbit hole, I take a deep breath to settle my racing heart. I’m not sure what exactly it is about Raiden, but of all of them, he makes me the most nervous to be around.
He hums a non-committal sound. “Several, actually.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, taking another sip of coffee and staring out at the sunrise, I start to squirm. “Are we playing twenty questions, or do you plan on clueing me in?”
As if bracing himself to deliver terrible news, he draws in a deep breath, setting his mug aside and rising to his feet. Before I can panic at him looming over me, he takes the few steps down into the grass. If it wasn’t for seeing his wings myself, I’d think he was actually a wolf, listening to every spike in my heart rate. Only once it’s settled to a normal rhythm does he tuck a thumb in the waistband of his pajama pants, tugging them down enough to show the mark haunting me at every turn emblazoned on his skin, covering one half of the V of his lower abdominal muscles.
Adjusting his clothes to conceal it once more, he slowly returns to his seat, attention laser focused on my face the entire time. “Would you like me to check yours to confirm our theory, or are we still avoiding discussing the subject?”
Tucking my knees closer, I shrink in on myself. “Already checked.”
“And?” His voice is so soft I can’t tell if he’s disappointed by my reaction, or if I’m projecting my own insecurities and reading too much into it. Chances are higher that he’s just trying not to send me into another panic attack like last time.
I almost don’t answer. If I refuse to admit it, I can have a few more minutes of denial, pretend that I don’t hear the faint sound of another wall slamming into place as they box me in. But I know better than most that wishing your problems away is futile. Nobody cares enough to listen, much less grant the wishes of someone the world’s marked as disposable.
