Page 55 of Toxic

"Those two rapists ended up in jail for a long time, but… they somehow found us."

I blinked, noticing Skye’s frown. "What happened?"

"I was eight then. My brother Storm was about ten and a half. He was already pretty big for a kid, being a purple alpha and all."

Wow, another shocker. His family seemed pretty interesting.

"My brothers were at school, and since Storm and I had a cold, we were at home with our dad. Storm told me he saw a man in the small grove behind our lot. I believed him—he has even better eyesight and hearing than normal alphas. He said we should check it out. I wanted to tell Dad, but Storm was stubborn as always. So, we went there. The grove was maybe fifty yards behind our yard. We went there cautiously, but of course, they noticed us. Before we could react, they grabbed us—"

"Fuck…" I muttered, feeling an uneasy wave, as if I was experiencing it with Skye.

"They were older alphas, big and dirty-looking. They introduced themselves, surprised we didn’t recognize their names. Our dad had this rule that he wouldn’t tell us about his past until we turned eighteen, so we had no idea who they were. One of them called us ‘pretty boys’ and said we had our dad’s turquoise eyes, but not his platinum hair, which was a pity."

"Don’t tell me they—"

Skye snorted. "They tried, that’s for sure. One of them grabbed Storm, which was a big mistake. Storm, being a purplealpha, can extend those spiky thorn things, they can stand up from his body. He’s got these purple lines made of alien tissue along his spine and limbs, and he can push out long bony spikes through it… and he did. The thorns shot through the line on his spine and pierced the guy’s chest, stomach, and neck. He screamed, and I screamed—so loud, my dad had to hear it. The other alpha tried to pull his buddy off Storm, but the spikes weren’t straight." Skye raised his hand, showing slightly crossed fingers. "They jammed together, ripping the living flesh from his body, and he screamed like a slaughtered animal. But by then, our dad was already on his way. He had a gun—" Skye trailed off and let out a huff. I could sense that this event still had some influence on him. "And you should know, my dad’s the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever known. But when he saw them, he raised the gun and shot them. One, then the other—the guy stuck on Storm’s spikes too. No hesitation, nothing. Then he called my father, who showed up more shocked and nervous than our dad. They wrapped the bodies in carpets and… drove away. We never knew what they did with them. Yeah, so… Years later, when I turned eighteen, I found out who those guys were. Back then, Dad just told me they were very bad people who hurt him in the past and would abuse and kill us. I trusted him, and that was enough for me. My dad wouldn’t kill anyone without a massive reason."

"God… Skye, but that’s actually a great story!"

Skye’s eyes widened, and he chuckled slightly. "Seriously? I didn’t expect you to say that!"

I snorted impatiently. "Of course! They deserved it and got what was coming to them. They could’ve left you alone after getting out of jail. Life is all about choices—stupid, destructive choices. Some people just make one too many. Trust me, I know all about stupid choices."

A pang of pain shot through my abdomen, and I scowled, whimpering. Skye pulled me closer, tighter, and the cramps eased a little right away.

"This one wasn’t your choice…"

"But the others were."

His hand slowly moved to my wrist, where the scar was most prominent, hidden under the tattoo. His eyes traced the thick line, then… his lips made a trail of soft kisses, almost like soothing stitches.

Almost, but not quite.

In some way, they were opening the wound again.

Skye leaned in closer to my ear. "Show me all your scars, Soren. Tell me the story behind them…"

But I just pressed my lips tighter. "There are too many. And I just don’t wanna add another to the collection. Do you understand?"

His gaze shifted to my face, some confusion visible in his eyes. I didn’t want to explain it, but I knew I was on my way to yet another horrible scar—on my heart. Skye would make the cut.

I clenched my jaw as a strong jolt of pain shot through my abdomen. I knew the worst was coming. In every meaning of the word.

SKYE

Soren was writhing in pain, even though I held him close, stroking his hair. I could see this was the most difficult, most dreadful part. He whimpered quietly, his fingers clutching my chest.

"It hurts so much, Skye," he whispered.

What could I do but kiss his temple and hold him tighter, stroking his head? I closed my eyes, wishing I could take some of his pain. It was strange, but I felt a slight tugging in my own stomach, almost like I could feel what Soren was going through. The more the tugging intensified in me, the less tense Soren’s body became, so I continued this odd act of 'taking away' his pain, even though it seemed so absurd and impossible, but bizarrely, it somewhat worked.

We stayed like that for a considerable time. Occasionally, I instinctively leaned down and kissed his temple, like we were boyfriends, not just fuckbuddies.

I had no idea how long it lasted. Maybe an hour. Eventually, he pulled his face away from my chest and said quietly, "The worst is over. I don’t want to look."

I knew what he meant. I didn’t want to look either, but I couldn’t expect him to be strong in this situation. I wanted to bestrong for both of us. I promised I’d stay and support him, and I couldn’t back out now.

So, I sat up, pulled off the blanket, and briefly looked down, but just as quickly looked away. In a few hurried moves, I wrapped it up and went straight to the bathroom. There, I disposed of the bloody pad, grabbed a fresh one, some paper towels, and warm water, then returned to the room.

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