Page 2 of Reign

I say nothing. Do nothing. Do I blink?

Emma pulls her lips in. “She’s in shock.”

Chase’s presence, as soon as it comes close again, fills my soul and my arms ache to tangle around his neck again. Yet no part of me moves.

His voice carries above my head. “What were you thinking, Callie?” His tone dips and dives with emotion. “I should’ve taken the blade. Not Ivy. Not you. Why did you get in Sabine’s path? Why did you protect me?”

My only answer is motionless lips, soaked in tears.

“It should’ve been me,” he whispers. “It should’ve fucking been me on that floor. I should’ve protected you both.”

Emma cuts in, “Chase. Please. Look at her.”

Chase stills. Gives me the once-over. Something at my middle catches his eye. I curl my fingers, but they’re stiffer than normal, like a new layer of skin has caked over them.

Not skin. Blood. Dried blood. Ivy’s.

I’m lifted in a whoosh of strength and carried into the bathroom where Chase resolutely shuts the door in his sister’s face.

I want to tell him Emma’s seen me in this state before. Naked, shivering, scared. But I can’t.

Chase sets me on my feet, running his hands up my arms as he straightens, so gentle, so barely there. He searches my eyes for a moment.

His stare hardens, coming to a decision. Delicately, he unbuttons my blouse and strips it off my form. My skirt is next, my bra, my underwear.

When I’m naked in front of him, his expression doesn’t waver or flush with need. He doesn’t grit his jaw or indent my skin with his hard grip before he can’t contain himself anymore and he covers me with his body.

He does none of that, and I wish he would. I wish for normalcy, for a regular day, for a rewind.

Chase turns on the shower, then strips off his shirt and pants.

Bared, beautiful, he steps up to me, trailing a finger down my cheek. “We’ll get through this.”

I’m lifted into the shower the same way he swept me off my feet in the main room, the warm spray covering my shoulders and splashing his chest as he steps in.

In silence, Chase lathers my body, his sweeping strokes as effective as sweet, whispered shushes against my ear. He soothes as well as he commands, and I wonder if Chase knows that.

He cleans my hair, rubs the blood from my fingernails, and massages the tender spots of my body with athletic expertise. He doesn’t stop until he hears a relieved, long sigh leave my lips.

When he’s toweling me off, he asks, “Can I carry you to bed?”

It takes effort, will, my every fiber, but I meet his eyes and give him the barest of nods.

His chin lowers. “Okay.”

Chase settles me against his chest, his heartbeat falling into my ear.

It’s fast, hard, and relentless in its pulse, but it’s soothing compared to my erratic rhythm.

I’m laid on top of my covers, my pajama shirt and shorts slipped on with the same ease he peeled my clothes off.

“I’m staying with her,” Chase says above me.

“I wasn’t about to question it,” Emma responds. Somewhere during our trip from the bathroom to my room, she reappeared. “Sleep, if you can. We’ll talk more in the morning. Is there any chance the police will knock on our door tonight?”

Chase sighs. “Likely. Callie was Ivy’s best friend.”

“I still can’t believe it. Sabine’s out of control.” Emma pauses. Then she asks, in a much softer tone, “Did you leave her body there?”

---