Page 18 of Body and Soul

“Thank you,” I mumbled, my eyelids suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. The stress of the day, the lack of sleep and food, it was all catching up to me at once.

Life's expression softened. “Why don't you rest for a bit? I'll wake you when Shepherd gets here.”

I wanted to protest, to insist I was fine, but she got up and pulled a blanket down from a shelf, gently draping it over me. She smiled and patted my cheek. The move reminded me so much of how my mom used to be before I came out, before everything went wrong. I started to tear up, but closed my eyes before I could cry and drifted off to sleep.

I lingered in thedoorway, watching Eli where he was curled up on the worn leather couch in my office. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, jaw clenched tight. His platinum hair was mussed against the cushion. Tattoos stark on too-pale skin stretched over sharp bones. He looked small—fragile. Not at all like the young man I’d met downstairs a few nights ago.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest as I watched the steady rise and fall of his breathing. I had planned to use him, to shape him into a weapon against the cult that had stolen my sister from me. He had inside knowledge that could be invaluable to taking them down. And clearly the boy had been through hell, making him a perfect candidate to mold to my purposes.

But seeing him like this—so broken and vulnerable—triggered an unfamiliar instinct, threatening to derail my ruthless plotting. I wanted to... protect him. Shield him from further harm. Help put back together the shattered pieces of his psyche.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. Sentiment was a weakness I couldn’t afford—not with Daniella’s life on the line. I needed to stay focused on the mission.

“He’s been like that ever since he got here,” Life said next to me, keeping her voice low. “He didn’t say what was wrong, but he looked pretty shaken when he arrived, Shepherd.”

I nodded once in acknowledgement, my eyes never leaving Eli's troubled face. “I'll handle it from here. Thank you, Life.”

She squeezed my shoulder and left, closing the door with a soft click behind her. I stood there a long moment, warring with myself. What was I doing? This wasn't part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for the boy. He was a means to an end.

With grim determination, I pushed aside the unwanted emotions and strode over to the couch. Crouching down, I brushed a lock of hair from Eli's forehead, noting the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks. He'd been through so much already. More than anyone should have to endure. I could use that—channel his pain and anger into a drive for vengeance against those who had wronged him.

My fingers lingered on his cool skin a beat too long before I pulled back. Standing, I went to the closet and retrieved a pillow. Careful not to wake him, I gently lifted Eli's head and slid the pillow beneath it. He sighed in his sleep, nuzzling into the softness. Something tugged in my chest at the sight.

I studied him, my thoughts churning. I tried to convince myself that these small acts of kindness were just another way to manipulate him. To make him feel indebted to me, so that he would be more likely to go along with my plans. The boy seemed starved for affection, for any scrap of human decency. It would be all too easy to exploit that.

But even as I rationalized it to myself, I knew there was more to it than mere strategy. Some deep-buried part of me longed to soothe his suffering any way I could.

I knelt beside the couch, bringing myself to Eli's eye level. He blinked up at me blearily, momentary confusion clouding his gaze before wariness shuttered his expression. I could practically see the walls slamming into place, a defense mechanism he'd no doubt honed over countless hurts and betrayals.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

Eli pushed himself up into a sitting position, instinctively creating space between us. He rubbed at his face, then shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”

The single syllable spoke volumes. He was anything but fine, yet admitting to weakness wasn't an option. Vulnerability led to exploitation and pain.

I shifted to sit on the edge of the couch, turned to face him, careful not to crowd. Eli eyed me like a caged animal debating fight or flight.

“You're safe here, Eli,” I said, keeping my tone calm as I held his skittish gaze. “No one will harm you under my protection.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he swallowed hard. Conflict played across his angular features—the desperate want to believe warring with the inability to trust. He'd been burned too many times.

I slowly reached out, telegraphing the movement, and laid my hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn't pull away. I let my hand linger on Eli's shoulder, the contact grounding me amidst the tension. His eyes flicked to mine, then away, eyelashes casting shadows on sharp cheekbones.

“You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready,” I said quietly. “But I'm here to listen, if you want. No judgment.”

Eli's throat bobbed as he swallowed. Fingers twisted anxiously in the hem of his shirt. “I...” His voice cracked, the hesitation hanging in the air. He blew out a shaky breath. “I don't know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?” I suggested gently. “What made you come here?”

Eli drew in a ragged breath, eyes darting around the room as if seeking escape. But there was none to be found. Only the steady weight of my gaze, patiently waiting.

He licked his chapped lips. “I got fired from McHappy’s,” he said finally, the words clipped. “I was late, but it wasn’t my fault. The manager, Brett, he’s had it out for me for a while. He’s been looking for a reason ever since he found out I was gay.”

I made a noncommittal noise, encouraging him to continue. Eli's hands clenched into fists, tendons stark beneath inked skin.

“That job was my only real income. Sure, I get some cash from apprenticing at the tattoo shop, but it's not enough. Not even close.” His voice rose, frayed edges of desperation creeping in. “I'm already behind on rent and they’re about to shut off the water. Fuck, I don't know how I'm going to pay that, let alone eat.”

Eli's breaths came faster, shallow and erratic. On the verge of hyperventilating.

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