Page 89 of House Rules
The other Titans approach, but I hold up a hand, telling them to stay back as I wrap my arms aroundhis trembling shoulders and hold on. His whole body shakes. It’s like he’s unraveling in my lap, and I’m the only thing tethering him to earth.
I cradle Storm’s head and neck in my arms, holding him to my chest as I sway back and forth. Sobs rack his entire body, and I know I’m seeing a side of Storm no one else really ever sees. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of it before. This is the Storm who isn’t tough as nails or terrifying—this is the scared boy hidden deep inside the man.
A lullaby rises up in my throat, one I haven’t thought of in years. A lullaby that my mother used to sing to me, a song steeped in the scents of lavender and vodka, and I start humming the simple, sweet melody. The words are in Latin, but they’re easy to remember.Dona nobis pacem.
I whisper it again and again in a voice that cracks, rocking Storm gently like I’m trying to uncoil the fury trapped inside his bones.
My mother would sing it every time I screamed or cried or had a temper tantrum. When my father started drinking and falling deeper into his gambling addiction, she’d do the same for him.
Grant us peace.The soft, repetitive melody always felt like a plea to me—a whisper to heaven for sanctuary from whatever storm was breaking loose. Whether it was the tantrum of a child, the pull of addiction, or—like now—the demons clawing at the man in my arms.
After the last line of the melody, I start again, but this time I hum it, low and slow, letting the sound fill the space around us like a blanket.
I just hold him. Rock him. Take care of him in a way I don’t think anyone ever has.
His arms wrap around my waist, and his head nuzzles into my neck as we hold each other. I’m positive Storm has never been comforted like this—not even as a child.
It just makes me want to hold on to him tighter, to protect him from all the evils in the world that have already done so much damage to this beautiful man.
When I look up, the other Titans are standing above us, staring down, their eyes wide in shock.
“What the fuck just happened?” Maverick asks.
“He went into a frenzy,” Atticus says, his eyes wide, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “He went into a full out frenzy—and she pulled him out of it.”
“No one pulls the Storm out of a frenzy. The last time we tried, I got stabbed, and we had to lock him in a room for three days,” Con argues.
They’re still speaking in low, awed voices—like they’re afraid any sudden move might break the spell.
I don’t really care what they’re talking about; I don’t know what a frenzy is or what exactly they mean. None of that matters right now. I understand the desire to stab Con—but more importantly, my attention is on Storm.
When I finish the tune again, I brush a lock of his white-blond hair behind his ear, and he looks up at me. His eyes are back to normal, his breathing even, and the only sign that anything had ever been wrong is the blood that still covers us both.
“What did I do, angel?” he asks, voice raw. “ Tell me what I did. He looks into my eyes like he’s still drowning, pleading for an answer but terrified to hear it.
I press my hand to his cheek, right where his blood left a print on mine. “You saved me.”
I say it like a truth. Like a promise.
Because maybe if I say it enough, it’ll save him, too.
28
Phoenix
“We needto get upstairs before someone comes to find out what happened. We got security to ignore the gunshots for now, but someone else may have heard and reported them,” Atticus says, and I barely register it as I stare up into Storm’s ice-blue eyes.
“Now,” Maverick adds as sirens wail in the distance.
Storm’s knife is lying at my feet. I know he isn’t in a place to deal with the blood-soaked blade, but later, he’s going to want it. I grab it and shove it into my dress. Maybe I can clean it and give it to him later.
Storm gets off of me and offers his hand to help me up. As I stand, he wraps his arms around my shoulders,pressing his front to my back and walking with me.
The others don’t lead us to the front entrance—instead, we go around back to a staff entrance.
No one says a single word as we make our way back to the suite, and Storm doesn’t take his arms from around me at all.
The second the door closes behind us, Con tries to grab my arm. Storm yanks me away from him, growling like some kind of wild animal.
