Page 9 of Tears of Ruin

“No,” he muttered. “No allergies.”

“Good,” I nodded. “Then I'll make sure you get something warm in the morning.”

He didn’t respond, only curled his arms around his legs again, his body folding inward, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. Fuck. His timidity was heart-wrenching. Noam was still on edge, still waiting for the trap to spring. But he had eaten. He had taken something from my hand and put it into his body.

That was progress.

I would take progress.

“I am allergic to lies.” He slowly stood but remained by the nightstand.

I turned, raising my eyebrow. Had he just made a joke? “As am I.”

Noam twisted his hands together and glanced away, but slowly, he turned back to look at me, and damn, I loved how he visibly shored his shoulders. “Good, then we agree on one thing.”

Something told me there was more to this human than met the eye. Someone who desperately wanted to simply be himself but too afraid to allow even a glance at his depths.

He’d just shown me a peek, and I took that trust seriously. I knew the struggle he was going through, the fight inside of him, because I had been him at one point in my life. If the true Noam wanted to shine, then by damn, I would hand him the polish.

I knew that all it took was one person to show they cared, to make you feel as if you mattered. There had been two people in my life who’d believed in me, in my worth, and if I could be that one person for Noam, I would love to see anyone stand in my way.

“Can I…” Noam glanced around the room. He was easy to read. I saw the way he pulled at his clothes, the way he fidgeted from one foot to the other.

“The shower is through that door.” I jerked my chin toward the door on the other side of the room. He was about Kyson’s size, so I would see if he had a few clothes to spare.

Noam’s eyes rounded. “Do you have mind-reading powers?”

I suppressed a chuckle. Oh, he was going to be such a delightful addition to Winterhaven. We already had too many apex predators living under one roof. Malachi and Giovanni were enough to give one a headache with their testosterone levels. Which was why I thoroughly enjoyed Dane’s and Kyson’s company. Noam would fit in perfectly with them.

Stop. You’re acting if the decision for him to stay has already been settled. He isn’t you. Noam isn’t a means to change your past.

No. He wasn’t. What had been done to me could never be undone. But if I could save him from the path he was currently on, by damn, I would. No one should be molded into something they weren’t, to be beaten into submission.

My nostrils flared as images of my past surfaced, but the memories quickly died when I saw Noam’s reaction to my anger. He took a step back, worry creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Mind reader?” I pretended to contemplate his words. “Right now, you are thinking of a hot fudge sundae.”

It was sad that he assumed I had such a gift. I’d only noticed his needs, which told me no one in his life ever had. No one had paid him any attention in a way that wasn’t cruel.

I was determined to give him what he desired, without guilt, without permission needed, simply because he deserved it. I was fully aware I was being over the top, and if I was, I didn’t care. Just like Dane and Kyson, Noam had come to Winterhaven broken, but not defeated. If those two could flourish under this roof, then so would Noam.

He frowned, but I saw the spark in his hazel eyes. “No, but that sounds amazing.” His brows hiked, the worry returning.

I took a single step toward him, softening my features. “Then we’re about to gorge on ice cream, chaton.”

Not my favorite dessert, but if Noam wanted one, we would eat them until we were so sugared we bounced off the walls. The man had been denied so much, had lived in fear for so long, that I was determined to show him that life was more than hunger and pain.

Noam wasn’t going to shower until he was alone, so I took the tray to the kitchen where Kyson and Dane were lying in wait for me. What I loved was the fact Kyson had finally reclaimed the room as his own. For nearly a year he’d refused to step inside the room. No one could blame him after a demon had killed him in the very corner Dane stood by.

And honestly, I’d missed my friend, even though I knew he secretly called me Dick. Brat.

“What did you find out?” Dane didn’t waste time.

“That certain people under this roof are extremely nosy.” I set the tray of dishes on the counter, wondering if Noam was already in the shower or still debating on if he was allowed to be in his own bathroom.

“I told you not to ask,” Kyson said to Dane. “Would you have wanted Di—chard to tell your business when I kidnapped you and brought you here?”

I wasn’t sure if I liked Kyson’s attempt at correcting himself by calling me Di-chard or simply calling me Dick. I didn’t prefer either, but at least Di-chard had a humorous ring to it.

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