After a brief debate, I shove the poisonous thoughts into the pit of despair. While it’s a valid concern, ultimately, I’m not turning a blind eye to anything these men are doing. If they start brushing me off or making empty promises? Tossing around red flags? Of course I’ll take that into consideration. Just because I’m choosing to stay now doesn’t mean I can’t walk away later, mark be damned. They might follow me, but running is all I’ve ever known; I’ll adapt. If there’s a chance to stop, though? Settle down with a few hot as fuck dragons that go out of their way to be considerate of my needs and encourage me to explore what the world has to offer instead of locking me away from it, why should I pass up that golden opportunity?
Raiden envelops me in his embrace, the circle of his arms a comfort rather than a cage. Heat radiates off of him in spades, and I sink closer with a contented sigh. He rests his chin on top of my head, slowly stroking my back with a heated palm to chase away the frigid chill from my skin. A pillar of support when everything else is a chaotic whirlwind trying to rip my feet out from under me.
My voice is a broken, desperate croak. “Does it ever get easier?”
I don’t need to clarify; not with him. “In my experience? It comes in waves. Easy on occasion, debilitating at others. More often than not, I find exploring various coping mechanisms to be beneficial to stop a downward spiral before it gains momentum.”
Twice I swallow, but I’m still choking. “If you have your shit together, why do you never seem to sleep?”
“Dreams aren’t a gift when you have as much blood on your hands as I do,mo chuisle.”
Glancing up at his stoic face, I sigh. “How the hell do you do this for so long without going mad? I’m not even thirty, and I’m already so fucking exhausted.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Are you looking for a patch job, or long-term solutions?”
“Either? Both?” I groan. “I’m fraying at the edges, and will take whatever I can get my hands on to hold myself together at this point.”
“The secret is that thereisno secret, Amara. We do whatever’s necessary in order to survive, and what works today may not work tomorrow. Would talking about it help?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Maybe the fact that both times I’ve found you near the pantry, you’ve been on the verge of hyperventilating?” he asks calmly.
Biting back my mortification, I whisper, “That’s where my room was growing up.”
He keeps his tone perfectly neutral. “They kept you in a closet?”
“No.” All of my remaining breath escapes in a rush of defeat. “Beneath it.”
He doesn’t comment; doesn’t have to. What’s there to even say? ‘Sorry’ means nothing from someone that never played a part in what haunts me, and commiserating would only bring up more unsavory memories for both of us. There’s nothing left to do but acknowledge that it sucked, find a way to make my peace with it, and finally move on.
The scent of smoke envelops me, and it’s actually a comfort to know his control slipped a little for once before he could conceal it. Tightening his hold, he asks, “Would it help to remove the door? Leave it an open addition to the kitchen? Or if you’d like, we can remove it entirely.”
Some of the pressure in my chest lessens. “No need to remodel on my account. It’s pretty stupid to be scared of a closet at my age, I need to get over it.”
“I beg to differ. Being afraid of the dark means you’re smart enough to appreciate the dangers that lurk within it. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, but something to be praised.” Unclasping his hands, he tilts my chin up to face him, holding me captive far more effectively. “Fear is a good thing, Amara. It reminds us that we have something to lose. You should be more afraid of the day that nothing scares you at all.”
“You turn into a fire breathing dragon, Raiden. What couldyoupossibly be afraid of?”
Soft lips ghost over my cheek in the illusion of a kiss. “You.”
