Page 3 of Sidhe
Those eyes, those awful eyes looked at Nathan with all the seven deadly sins shining beneath the surface.
“You belong tome, Nathan. Only me.”
“Nate?”
Nathan snapped out of his daydream. He wasn’t there anymore, in that nightmare world created by Malak—his own personal Hell.
But every detail had been so real, so tangible, so…possible.
“I’m okay, Jim. Just a little shaken up.” He attempted to grin again, his cheeks twitching from the unfamiliar effort. “Need time to…adjust to all this again, ya know. I’m fine. Go spread thegood news…or whatever.” It was probably obvious by the way his hands were still knuckle-white gripping Sasha that he was none of those things—except for the shaken up part.
“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as things are settled.” Jim’s body gave a slight lurch like maybe it didn’t know where to go, like it wanted to embrace Nathan a second time but didn’t want to smother him.
Nathan was half in Sasha’s arms still, needing that contact, and he knew he would welcome any extra from his brother. He wanted to tell Jim that. He wanted to tell Jim that he didn’t have to be strong; he could hug Nathan if he needed to. Nathan needed it, he did; he needed touch that comforted instead of hurt. But he couldn’t ask for it.
Jim settled on a firm squeeze of Nathan’s shoulder and was out the door, closing it behind him. Nathan would be eternally grateful for that, for not having to face the others just yet. The others, who he had let down again and again and again…
Nathan pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead.It wasn’t real, he told himself.It wasn’t real.
“Nathan…? Let’s get you into the tub. I can get the water going. Can you walk okay?” Sasha was doting on him and mother-henning him like…like he was supposed to.
“Little stiff. I can make it. What am I wearing?” he asked as they made slowly for the bathroom, Sasha’s arm hooked around his waist to offer help Nathan hadn’t asked for but cherished. It looked like he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The fabrics were different color greys and soft, well-used.
“They’re Iain’s, I think,” Sasha said. “We just grabbed for something, sorry. We wanted you to be comfortable when you…woke up.” His voice was so tender and soft, like he was trying not to spook a kitten.
Oh how Nathan had missed his bleeding heart of a boyfriend. He had almost forgotten what Sasha was really like after allthose months—days. God, it had only been days. That was going to be hard to get used to, knowing that so little time had passed when it felt like a year to him.
Then he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
The image transfixed him as Sasha moved toward the tub to turn on the taps and plug the drain for his bath. While Sasha stayed crouched to the side, Nathan just stared, his own image centered in the glass. He stepped closer, the reflection moving with him. He knew it was no illusion. That was him.
But he looked so young, so untainted. His face was smooth and unscarred save that old one he didn’t mind so much that went through his eyebrow. He pulled up the sweatshirt to look at his chest and found it free of so many scars and marks he remembered from his time in…the Veil. There were only the barest remains of the scars from Sasha’s claws, the pellet marks from Gabriel’s shotgun, and the mark from his contract with Malak, still boldly drawn over his heart.
It was as if someone had taken a giant eraser to the last year of his life and he was left less marred, less broken. Only his eyes betrayed how he was haunted.
He lowered his shirt and felt at his wrists, still faintly scarred from Sasha’s claws in the cave. Then he let his attention get drawn to his father’s wedding ring, hanging on that same silver chain around his neck, glittering against the dull fabric of the sweatshirt. He gripped it tight.
“Nate?” Sasha asked tenderly.
But when Nathan turned to look, he didn’t see Sasha.
“Nathan,” came a very different voice as this new figure rose from the ground, his smile terrible. “Trying to hide from me? You know better than that.”
Nathan back-peddled, trying to escape, knowing he never could. His shoulders hit the wall first, his body unbalanced in his haste. “I-I…wasn’t. I swear.” His voice hitched, it alwaysdid, and the figure laughed at him for his weakness, for how he shook and pleaded and couldn’t ever win, couldn’t even fight anymore.
He had fought in the beginning, sneered in their faces, said ‘do your worst’, but he couldn’t go on like that forever.
“Nathan!” the real Sasha said firmly, hands on Nathan’s shoulders, eyes serious but pained as he shook him. “Nathan, it’s justme.”
Blinking out of that unfair vision, anchored by Sasha’s voice, Nathan saw that he had indeed backed himself against the wall, huddled low in the corner of the bathroom. But Sasha wasn’t looming, wasn’t promising brutality and horrors that went so much deeper than skin. Sasha was there to help, wanting and needing to help him.
“Nathan, come on…” Sasha begged, tears soaking his words. “Tell me you’re still with me.”
“I-I’m…here. S-Sorry. Sorry,” he said again, making his voice sound stronger for Sasha even though he was shaking again. “It’s just…hard to…” He didn’t know what to say.
Live. It was hard tolive.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he nodded, probably sounding like some mumbling mental patient. Sasha helped him back to his feet and Nathan drank in the sight of his incubus.His. “I’m okay,” he said once more. “How’s the water coming?”
