Page 31 of Gift from the Stone

“You’ve been trying to hide from me since your gift emerged, boy. It’ll take you a few more centuries. Maybe then you’ll outsmart me.” The old fucker shoots me a mischievous wink, walking into her bathroom.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I hesitate for a moment, battling my demons, but the need for her wins, and I grab her hand in mine, bring it to my lips, and kiss each of her knuckles.

Wake up, Primary.

The twelve-hour mark came and left at an agonizingly slow pace. No change, no update, and all the scientist said to do was wait, continue to be close to her. The next twelve hours were even worse. Followed by the next, and now the next.

For forty-eight hours, we’ve barely left her side. Well, I haven’t left her room, resorting to using her bathroom and bringing myself whatever I need from the shadows. The other three rotate their needs, one going, two staying, but no one’s gone longer than a few minutes.

They slept in the bed with her the last two nights, cocooning her in their arms. I stand watch, sleep evading me as my darkness closes in.

Draken’s told her countless stories of our teen years, rubbed her feet, brushed her hair. He even got in the bath with her, hoping to rouse her, but nothing, not a single eye flutter. Now he’s entered the angry phase.

Tillman’s repaired her rug three times because of the flames falling from his fingertips and scorch marks from his feet. He told him if he kept it up, he’d tie him to the walls with his vines, but he’s fairing no better. Refusing to leave the room to even train, he’s resorted to pushups, burpees, and jogging in place right here. Ry’s having to take over his E.F. class because he’s refusing to go to the academy. He’s made her enough clothes, shoes, and sexy as fuck lingerie that she could wear a different outfit every day for a year and still have more choices to pick from.

Corentin. My poor brother is out of his mind. He’s only stopped pacing long enough to shower, and I’m sure he was even doing it in there. He’s slipped his emotionless mask on and has been barking down the throats of anyone who dares call him. Every five minutes, he walks to her side, checks her breathing, adjusts her covers, then continues his pacing. This is the routine he’s developed since we’ve locked ourselves in here. It’s the only thing he has control over at the moment.

In the last twenty-four hours, conversation has become nothing but snippy remarks and jumping down each other’s throats. If we can’t find something to discuss, we’re going to end up going to blows with one another. They all need a break from this room.

“You were interrupted once again, brother, when you tried to tell her the news,” I say to break the tension-filled silence.

Not that it’s funny, but I can’t help the smirk that slips thinking about how she shoved the shit out of Draken when he tried to touch her when she was preparing to shift. I doubt she realizes the strength it takes to move him off his feet and she sent his ass straight back to his chair.

“And you think it’s funny?” Corentin’s eyes draw down, sending me a scathing look.

“No, not that. I was thinking about how the Primary knocked Draken off his big ass when he tried to touch her. The look of both shock and pride on his face was fucking hilarious.” Maybe I’m delirious or maybe just the thought brightens my mood, maybe both, but I fall into a fit of laughter at Draken’s expense.

The room is still, everyone freezing to watch me fall apart in hysterics. Finally, Draken throws his head back, laughing as well. It’s so contagious, I laugh harder, and the others can no longer contain themselves. Together, the four of us create a symphony of laughter, just like old times, filling the gloomy space. After a few moments, the laughter tapers off and we all wipe the stray tears from our temporary reprieve of arguing and melancholy.

“I need her to wake up. I need to tell her that she shoved a thousand-pound dragon to his ass. I need her,” Draken chokes out, his tears turning from ones of comic relief to ones of sorrow.

“She will, Draken. She will,” I tell him seriously.

“I’m afraid of how she’ll react to the news. I’m afraid she’ll think I’ve been hiding this from her when I haven’t. Well, not since she came back. Before yes, I didn’t want her to know, but since then, I’ve just been trying to find a way to drop a bomb of this magnitude on her gracefully,” Corentin admits as he gazes down at her, running his fingers through her hair.

“She’s the most understanding woman I’ve ever met in my life. She won’t hold you at fault, Corentin. I worry more that she isn’t going to want the responsibilities that’ll come one day,” Tillman states, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and squeezes.

“And we’ll accept that. We’ll give it all up for her. The academy, the E.F., and everything that comes after. We’ll give it up if she doesn’t want it.” There’s no argument from any of us at Corentin’s declaration, definitely not me. I don’t want the shit now. It’d make my life easier if the Primary said fuck no.

The room falls back into silence as we all stare at her, praying our will alone will wake her. After a moment and nothing, I step into her bathroom and turn on the shower.

Standing under the stream of water, surrounded by her smell, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs to the brim with her scent. The fruity shampoo she uses can’t cover the true scent of her. The smell of coffee on a chilly fall morning. Falling into the imagination that her scent invokes, I let the images flood my mind.

It’s a crisp morning. She’s sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the back porch of our childhood home, in her robe and slippers. Her head’s thrown back, her hair cascading down in soft curls as she laughs at Draken’s animation of the story he’s telling her. Corentin walks past her, a mug in each hand, giving her one that’s made of a far too sugary cup of coffee, and he leans down, kissing her forehead.

Tillman’s sitting beside her, running his fingers up and down the back of her neck, massaging lightly as he goes. I’m sitting there watching it all unfold, pretending to have my nose stuck in a book, when really, she’s stolen every ounce of my attention.

Leaning my forehead against the wall of the shower as the images fade, I bathe in the glow for a moment before my darkness closes in, consuming the feelings and turning them to horror.

She’s chained to an exam table. Her father and that fucking rapist scum are leering over her, laughing as the mad scientists of the Mastery draw her blood, cutting, slicing her skin, never letting her shift to heal.

She’s lying in her bed, her prone form cold to the touch, lips pale, thinned. No music of her laughter fills the space, just wailing from my brothers as we mourn her. There are no snarky remarks or smart-ass comments falling from her mouth, arguing about the overly bossy, protective command one of us just gave her. Draken’s lying beside her, fading away to nothingness before he takes his last breath. He’ll perish right along with her.

“Get out, get out, get out.” I rage, bashing my fist against my head. The nightmares try their best to claw their way as far into my soul as they can. Trying to snuff out the light she’s put there.

Slamming the water off, then drying myself the moment the water stops flowing, I pull some clothes from my shadows and dress quickly.

She has to wake up.

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