Page 203 of Redeemed

Xander shakes his head. “I’ve got homework.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, but then he sighs. “Fine. But you’re only studying for a half hour, and then you’re joining us. You shouldn’t have set an alarm.”

“Wake me up next time, and I won’t have to,” Xander says with a wink.

Glowering, Lucas crosses the kitchen. “Come with me, Haven.”

“Where are we going?”

He pulls me to my feet and guides me through the house without a word. Once we’re in his and Xander’s room, he closes the door. “On the bed.”

Oh, no. No no no.

“Lucas—”

“Now,” he says impatiently.

I knew it. I knew they didn’t really care.

Chest aching, I climb onto the bed and turn to face him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get under the covers.”

I blink, startled. That’s the last thing I was expecting to come out of his mouth.

With an irritated sigh, Lucas yanks the comforter back, along with the sheets. “Do I have to force you?”

Warily, I get under the blankets. “What’s going on?”

“You need to sleep.”

“Here?”

“Where else?”

“I… I guess my cage?”

“There’s not enough padding in there. You need to be comfortable.”

“I’d like to be comfortableallthe time,” I mutter under my breath.

Lucas freezes halfway through tucking the blankets up to my chin. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an unreadable expression.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” I say, unable to help how scared I sound. He’s freaking me out. They all are. This morning is so abnormal that it feels like a fever dream. Colton’s hot-and-cold attitude, them letting me sit at the table, and nowthis.

Lucas finishes tucking me in and then flips the light off. I expect him to leave, but then I hear him at his desk, and a moment later, the glow of his laptop screen fills the room.

“Shit,” he mumbles before turning the brightness down.

“You’re staying?” I ask.

“I need to study, and I concentrate best in here.”

Even though I’m tired and would honestly love to take a nap, I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him. Lucas exists differently than others. He avoids open areas and almost always has his back to a wall. If he doesn’t, he’s facing the most likely spot a threat could come at him from.

It’s probably unnoticeable to most people, but I recognized it immediately. That’s what I did at Cornerstone. It’s a little piece of me in him, or a piece of him in me. A shared trauma, I think, although I don’t know much about his.

“Because it’s where you feel safest?” I ask, knowing there’s a high likelihood the question will set him off.

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