Page 51 of Hysteria Rises
As I creep closer, Arrow’s gaze connects with mine and sends me spiraling straight back to the day in that awful room. When I’m finally able to look beyond his injuries, I suck in a breath, unsure what to do. He’s as naked as the day he was born and sprawled across the floor, his skin wet and glistening. Clearly in an enormous amount of pain.
Frozen in place, my mind races as I try to decide what course of action to take. I should leave. I should just fucking leave. But this is also clearly the bathroom that I’ve been assigned to clean today. I huff out a breath, wiping sweaty hands over the material of the sack of a dress I wear.
There are a lot of things I’ve wished on the men who have kept me captive here, but seeing this… I wouldn’t wish this on him, even if heisthe reason why I was “corrected” in front of a roomful of onlookers.
A disturbed laugh escapes me as I think back on the literature. It detailed how corrections—aka punishments—would be doled out swiftly. Stupid fucking terminology, if you ask me. I swallow, remembering with perfect clarity how Arrow had actually thanked them for correcting him. I hadn’t given it much thought until now; I’d been too caught up in my own internal turmoil.
And I don’t know why I feel the need, but I open my mouth. “I—” is all that comes out, though, and atthe hoarse, croaking sound of my voice, Arrow shifts ever so slightly to peer back toward me. An anguish like I’ve never seen before graces his features.
“I thought I was alone”—he says haltingly before taking a shallow breath—“I just wanted a shower. But—” The grimace that crosses his face as he plants his hands on the floor and attempts to push himself upward twists his face into a mask of misery. “Just go,” he murmurs.
And right then, nothing that came before matters. I’m not unfeeling. I can’t leave him here like this. “I— I can’t.” I clamp my lips together again.
His eyes flick to mine, his brow furrowing. “I don’t want—” He exhales hard, his body shaking.
Through clenched teeth, I grit out, “I’m supposed to be cleaning this bathroom.” From the way he’s unable to maintain eye contact, he’s obviously self-conscious about being naked in front of me, which is odd considering he’s been inside my body.
I exhale unsteadily, sneaking another look at him. He’s muscular as hell. I could probably bounce a quarter off his ass cheek.
His eyes crash shut. “Go.”
Exasperated, I drop to my knees beside him. “Look. I know the rule that I’m not supposed to speak to you. But this is fucking ridiculous. You’re clearly in pain. I’m not going to leave you lying here on the floor.”
His tongue pokes out to dampen his lips as he stares at me, perplexed, with those pale-blue eyes of his.At any moment he might call out for help or let someone know I’m here. And it’s weird, but I’ve become accustomed to his gaze. It’s been on me so many times in the dark. Despite all the times he’s done and said weird stuff, he’s also offered me comfort, even if he did fuck it all up. I still don’t know how I slept through what he was doing to me. If I hadn’t, maybe we wouldn’t be in this position right now, and I definitely wouldn’t feel like I had to do a damn thing for him.
But I do. Rubbing a hand over my face, I shrug. “I can try to help you up. Or”—my gaze flicks to a wooden chair at the side of the room that has a pile of clothing on it—“I could bring that chair over, and you could brace your hands on it while you try to stand.”
A ragged breath escapes him. “Yeah. Okay.”
I’m on my feet in a flash and drag the heavy chair in front of him, then offer him a hand while he slowly and painstakingly gets to his knees. It takes a while, but once he’s up, he glances at me before casting his gaze toward the floor. There’s a pink hue infiltrating his face and when I trail my attention downward, I notice he’s fully flushed from the chest up. My brows slowly furrow. He’sembarrassed.
I chance another peek downward. He has no reason to be. His muscles are carved to perfection, and his dick swings heavily between his legs. The memory of waking up to that thick appendage buried deep inside my body before being yanked out again knocks me off center. I scramble for something,anything to say or do to pull me out of the tailspin. “Y-you can put your arm over my shoulder if it helps steady you.”
He grunts his appreciation.
A nervous exhale skitters from my throat as we exit. “Where are we going?”
“Just there.” He doesn’t bother pointing, simply looks in the direction of a door partway down the hall that stands ajar.
I nudge it open and help him inside, my attention immediately wandering over the eight beds, trunks, and nightstands. “You all share a room?”
He gives the barest of nods, removes his arm from me, then steers himself toward one of the bunks. I watch with cautious eyes as he lies face down.
“Do you want a blanket?”
A strangled huff escapes him. “Yes.”
I bite my lip, then hurriedly maneuver a quilt upward to cover his ass. “Okay. I’m gonna get back to cleaning.”
I’ve just turned to leave when he makes a grunting noise. “Wait. I?—”
At his pleading tone, I halt in my tracks, simply watching the play of emotion on his face from under the cover of my lashes.
“I should have known.”
A line forms down the center of my forehead, and I can’t help myself. I close the distance, dropping down between two of the beds when I realize it’s causing him pain to twist to look up at me. In a voice so low Iquestion whether he can actually hear me, I whisper, “What should you have known?”
“Gannon and Dragan. Should have known they’d say something to Kiefer. I thought at first it was Mal, but…” He seems to stop to consider. “No. I think it was them.”
