Page 40 of Ethereally Redeemed

A look of regret crosses his face. “I promised I would never leave you. I made it home, didn’t I?”

I sigh, looking at him before gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You did. Now rest. We’ll figure it all out tomorrow,” I demand.

“Okay, ma’am.” He playfully smirks, despite the exhaustion littering his face. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

This beautifully broken man before me—protecting me in the only way he knows how. At that moment, as I hold him close to me, minutes turning to what must be hours as his laboredbreathing finally steadies, I silently vow to protect him no matter what.

Chapter 15

Naya

We’d been living inour perfect little bubble for the past few weeks since I found his lifeless body on the tracks. Weeks spent worried about his well-being, both mentally and physically, even when I pretended everything was fine. He distanced himself the first few days, his demeanor cold and brushing me off whenever I asked if something was wrong. We both worked hard to keep that bubble intact, and to some extent, it was.

The tension in the living room is now thick as we sit and talk, doing little else. I look into his eyes as they stare unseeing out the window to the sun filtering through the cracks of the blinds—how dull they seem today, like a heaviness that’s meant to suffocate. Some days, he wakes up in the best mood with an intense energy radiating off him that seems to border on manic, always wanting to do something—taking a walk, playing some old board games he found in the basement along with an old radio. While other days are downright hell, to the point where he can’t even get out of bed, energy deflating. Not even my attempts to cheer him up help on those days, and it’s making me worried sick.

I try my best to be there for him, giving him space and offering comfort whenever he needs that. This is tearing both of us apart, shredding our souls into pieces that we fight to keep glued.

I follow Grey’s line of sight—the summer months have transformed into autumn, with the cooler sun making this house less lethal with its oppressive heat.

He’s finally healed after the fight that both doomed and saved us; we have more money than I thought we could ever have.

His fingers drum against the armrest, his shoulders slumped as he lets out a deep sigh. I know where his thoughts are; overtaken by his inner demons. I need to do something to distract him before he ventures deeper into that hole I cannot save him from.

“Can you teach me?” I blurt.

He cocks an eyebrow. The gaze he gives me is all predatory, and had I been anyone else, I would have been utterly terrified. Instead, it heats my core as he drags his eyes over my frame, and I squirm uneasily on the couch.

“Teach me how to fight, Grey.”

He continues staring at me for seconds. What he shows me now is the monster inside him—the part of him he’s talked about before. He’s sizing me up like I’m a contestant he’s determined to win. I hold my ground, locking eyes with his sharp sapphire gaze, projecting a confidence I’m not really feeling—but I don’t let him see that.

“Are you sure?” Even his voice is darker than before—deadlier.

“I’m not asking you to teach me to fight like you—for the pleasure of it. I just never want to be helpless again, so teach me, Grey.”

He seems to absorb my words, dragging a hand over his face, and the stubble that’s grown from days without shaving, not since he helped me cut my once extremely worn-out long hair. Now, it’s a little jagged, barely reaching my shoulders, and those awful navy blue ends are finally gone. All traces of Grimhill Manor’s appearance on me have disappeared.

My gaze drifts to his forearms, veins protruding in a way that’s mouthwatering, making me crave the feel of them upon my ownright now. I quickly shake myself from the thoughts.

Yes, we’ve stayed in our perfect little bubble, alright. Sneaking in sessions of pleasure whenever we could while still fighting forour survival outside these suffocating walls.

He stands from the couch, moving with ease now that he’s healed. He towers above me, feeling like a goddamn giant as he moves toward the front door. I take that as my cue to follow him, observing how stealthily he moves.

Sunshine feels foreign on my skin as I step outside into the warm embrace of daylight, my bare feet sinking into the softness of the grass. Both Grey and I left our shoes in the hallway.

The yard outside the house is big, with its weeds growing faster than ever.

“It’s not only about fighting, but to be self-aware. Always trust your gut,” he begins, walking a few feet ahead before turning to face me. “That is your first line of defense. Pay attention to your surroundings—notice how people move, talk, act. That is your key to knowing if something is off. Chances are, if something feels off, it’s because it most likely is.”

In a matter of seconds, he’s closed the distance between us, twisting me around until my back is pressed against his front. His veiny forearm, adorned with those delicious tattoos, is poised near my throat, leaving no room to escape.

“Don’t be distracted, little doll. If that were Arthur, you’d already be dead.”

The mention of that horrible human has my insides churning, as if my stomach has been turned inside out to reveal its contents.

“That’s your second warning. You let your emotions show on your face. Never do that,” he growls, releasing me.

I stumble back from him, sending him daggers with my eyes, but his face is all neutral and devoid of emotions.

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