“Trauma has a nasty way of breeding shame. When we feel powerless against our abusers, it is easier to turn that loathing inward instead,” he said. “I told you about my upbringing. Though I tried my hardest to distract my father from my sisters and mother by provoking him to attack me instead, sometimes I failed. Sometimes I wasn’t there. I used to feel responsible for every time I couldn’t stop him, or every time I made things worse. It took a very long time to forgive myself, to understand that I was a child too, and my father was the one who had failed as a man and a human being. That wound followed me into war. I experienced the same guilt for every vampire and mortal lost, each time I was unable to prevent a tragedy. If I didn’t feel responsible, then who would? That was the question that weighed heavily on my heart.”
I stared at his broad hands on my lower thighs, warm and comforting, like he was holding space for me that I didn’t know how to hold for myself. In showing me this parallel with his own life, he was making me feel less achingly alone for the first time since I’d been taken.
“And it still does. These patterns of thinking and feeling don’t ever leave us. We carry them always,” he said, drawing my eyes back to his. “But their weight doesn’t have to be so heavy. They can go from overwhelming to fleeting, rigid to soft. I didn’t push down my trauma to become the man I am today. I integrated it into my whole being. I talked about it with someone I trusted, and I allowed her to help me break free from the tyranny of the past. Punishing myself for what happened to my mother and sisters was a waste of energy. It didn’t help them, and it didn’t help me. I honored them by focusing on how I could aid others, and that started with first getting right with myself.”
I slowly unwound my tightened muscles, and I did something much more difficult than fighting. I stopped fighting.
“I hear you,” I said, and for the first time, I truly did. “But I still want to do more than just heal. Our time under this ceasefire isn’t endless, and judging by the sexy blood splatters on your skin and clothes… ceasefire is also a misnomer. I want to help, and I believe that I have more of an ability to do so than anyone is giving me credit for.”
Rune slowly nodded. “I hear you, too, Scarlett. And I want to gently push you to consider the idea that the deaths of those slaves are stains on born demons’ souls, not yours. Their fates were tenuous no matter your involvement,” Rune said. “You gave me an example of a time you failed. I also want to hear about the times you won. Because you’re wrong. I do believe in your power to help. It’s because I believe in you so vehemently that the prospect of sending you back into the line of fire terrifies me so damn much.”
I felt a light return to my eyes, and as soon as Rune saw it, that light reflected back to me in his. Sadie had been right. Rune had never tried to clip my wings, no matter how much I anticipated it, prepared myself for it. Damn this man, but he really was as perfect as he carried himself to be.
He was downright terrified of losing me, but he was still willing to risk it. Because, to him, I was a woman, not a slave. I was not an object, no matter how aroused I became at the thought of him treating me like one.
“Uriah and I can train you. Sadie can mentor you. We will listen to your ideas and help you formulate a plan of action.” He paused, pulling both my hands into his. “My only condition is that you see a healer, someone who isn’t me or Sadie, whose only aim is to help you process the horrors you’ve endured. I cannot force you to feel better, Scarlett. It’s something you have to choose for yourself. You don’t have to be fully healed in order to fight. Nor do you have to be completely healed in order for me to touch you. But for your safety and the safety of my clan and all of Valentin, you cannot work with us until you are willing to begin the healing process.”
I’d had it all wrong. I stared at Rune, searching his words for evidence that he was holding me back. But he wasn’t. Not at all.
“If I had it my ego’s way, I’d refuse to ever let you even consider making yourself vulnerable again.” He grabbed my chin. “I’d chain you to my bed and never let you out of my fucking sight, and any man who breathed near you in a way I didn’t like I would kill on the spot.”
I giggled, and Rune’s lips quirked up. His eyes softened at the sound.
“I will still do those last two things, on occasion,” he said.
“Big of you to admit.” I rolled my eyes, still toying with a smile.
“But I will not stand in the way of you forging your own destiny. I will not allow you to live with any regret.”
I crawled into his lap, straddling him as I looped my arms around his neck. “And that is why you’re the only man who has ever held my heart in his palms, capable of crushing it with just one squeeze. That’s why I love you so deeply it terrifies me. Our love is vast enough to get lost in. The oceans and the cosmos can’t even compare.”
“Mm,” Rune uttered, long and drawn out. “Look at you and your beautiful sentences, baby. I must truly be a god to have captured a powerful succubus under my spell. To have turned her into such a soft, docile little creature just begging for my love.”
I pulled back, but he held me in place with his hands gripping my hips.
“I’m the one who has ruined you, Little Flame. It’s a good thing you’re mine, in this life and all the next.”
My eyes narrowed, and Rune’s self-satisfied smirk only widened under my glower. I melted, laughing at his ability to burrow this deeply under my skin. It was only fair, as I’d clearly carved a place for myself under his.
“Okay. I’ll tell you about the times that I won,” I said, harkening back to earlier in the conversation. “When we’re ready to talk about a game plan.” I slowly trailed a circle on his chest, finding the strength I needed for my next words in Rune’s rigid muscles. “Is Belise on staff today?”
Rune melted, pulling me down to kiss my forehead. He exhaled slowly, as if in unspeakable relief.
“Yes, baby. He’s ready for you whenever you are.”
42
RUNE
Isat on my personal patio, overlooking the city in solitude as I reflected on the past week.
Over the past six days, Scarlett had slept long hours, had slowly begun to eat normal quantities again, and had seen Belise for two sessions a day, morning and night. I never pried, but from what Scarlett had freely revealed, I knew that he was offering her a blend of talk therapy and somatic healing witchery. His methods aimed to allow Scarlett the opportunity to reconnect with her body and release the trauma stored within it. Sometimes, she seemed better after a session, more herself. Other times, she was quiet and tired, or emotionally volatile. Sometimes she wanted to be alone, and other times I held her as she cried in my arms.
While Scarlett worked with Belise, I worked with Sadie. It had been a long time coming, but I knew that in order to be the man Scarlett needed me to be, I had to heed my own wisdom.
Because while I was careful to hide my horror from Scarlett when she revealed more about her time with Durian, the truth was that each reveal was killing me inside. Even the things she let slip in passing, like they were no big deal, made me want to grind my teeth so hard they fissured.
I hated myself for all of it. I blamed myself for all of it. It was that core wound all over again, the one that led all the way back to the day I found my sisters’ dead bodies in Crescent Haven’s forest in early autumn. And even further back, when I first remembered my father striking my mother.