Page 49 of Possession

I throw him down onto the couch and go storming across the room. I yank open the door. There’s a guard outside it.

Automatically, I clock him as a threat. He turns toward me and starts to say something, but I grab him by the throat and body slam him to the ground before he can finish.

I go stalking down the hallway to a staircase. There’s a hum in the back of my mind because, on a certain level, I know where I am and why I’m here. The thing is, it doesn’t fucking matter.

I get down to the black and white checkered foyer. When I hear voices, I angle toward them. I walk into the sitting room. There’s another guard, a tough-looking woman, inside the door. My eyes cut straight past her to Vitali—who has his hands planted on the arms of a chair, trapping Lucas there.

Vitali straightens. His eyes widen. “Roman. Jesus.”

I feel my lip curl back as I growl. As I stalk toward Vitali, his expression grows wary.

“Roman—”

I shove him so hard that he flies a good ten feet and crashes into an end table. A lamp smashes to the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I see him get up. At the edge of my awareness, I hear him and the female guard shouting. But Lucas is throwing himself into my arms, and that’s the only thing that fucking matters.

Lucas wraps his arms and legs around me as I carry him across the room. Vitali calls my name, but I ignore him. I carry Lucas through the foyer and up the stairs. I carry him down the hallway.

The man who was in my room is talking to the male guard that I body slammed. I growl at both of them. The man who was in my room jumps back, colliding with the guard.

Neither of them interferes with me as I carry Lucas into the bedroom. I shut and lock the door then take him to the bed, where I sit down on the edge and hold him against me. He’s shaking. I might be too.

I hear more voices outside the door. I hear myself growl. They better not try to come in.

They don’t.

They leave.

I want to ask Lucas if he’s okay, but I can’t. I’m too locked up. I just keep my face buried against him. He’s doing the same. For a second, nothing exists but the tiny space we make together.

Fuck, it scared me to wake up without him.

Never, ever again.

He recovers before I do. He starts stroking the back of my head and my neck. He starts to relax. After a while, I’m able to time my breathing with his.

I calm down.

“I want to shower,” he says quietly.

I nod against him, but it takes me a minute to get up. Lucas doesn’t rush me. When I’m ready, we rise from the bed. I want to carry him again, but he puts his feet on the ground. We walk to the bathroom.

It’s surreal to me to turn on the light of this unfamiliar-familiar space. It’s surreal to be in this house instead of my cell. I almost can’t deal with it. There’s too much shit everywhere. There’s too much fucking space.

“Hey,” Lucas says softly, touching my hand. It brings me back to the present. To him.

Seeing him in the light for the first time, I notice the bruise on his face. I lay my hand on his cheek and sweep my thumb over it, trying to ask with my eyes what happened. I’m having trouble with words again. I don’t know why.

“It’s okay,” Lucas says.

It’s not, but I leave it alone for now. I take hold of the hem of his sweatshirt. He lifts his arms. When I pull it off him, he shudders.

“I never want to see that thing again.”

When I put it in the trash, he lets out a small chuckle. I pet his hair.

He bends to remove his shoes and socks then shuck off his pants. He hands everything to me. “These too.”

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