Page 16 of Light As A Feather
“Sol, my love, listen to my voice. Put the knife down and come back to me.” At my appeal, she lunges, and the dagger’s tip halts just above my heart. My muscles burn as I counter the obscene strength of the spirit leveraging Sol’s body. As we struggle, the metal plunges forward, breaking skin. I hiss but do nothing to stop the bleeding. My shaking arms are the failing brakes of this first-class train to the other side. Sweat rapidly builds on my palms, the hilt slipping a centimeter and eliciting another sharp pain.
In a burst of desperate energy, I manage to shove her back on the bed, the metal handcuff digging into my skin as it jerks me toward her. While I’m relieved to see the knife fall from her hand, I don’t have time to prevent the crack of her head against the wood frame. With the jarring injury, the haze clears from her eyes, the pupils rolling forward as they flare wide with shock and agony. But the clarity vanishes as quickly as it came.
Connected by our wrists, she’s able to use my body weight as leverage to get forward momentum to lunge at me again. Her fingers go straight for the knife wound, digging into the torn flesh.
Despite the stinging discomfort, I remain focused on her. “I love you; you don’t want to hurt me,” I mutter against the palms of her hands as I struggle to keep them in my grasp.
A guttural scream spills from her mouth, one that drives me to cover my ears to shield them from the pain. In that instant, the entity seizes the opportunity to break free from my grip, going straight for the knife and aiming it at Sol’s heart. Before it can find a new home in the cavity of her chest, I wrestle it from her grip and toss it across the room.
Ignoring the searing pain that runs along several inches of my forearm from where the cuff has tugged and torn at my skin, I attempt to subdue her. “Sol, come back to me.” Bearing myself down on her, I pin her arms to the bed, then force our mouthstogether. My lips move against hers, trying to appeal to the woman trapped inside her own body.
Instead of the surrender I’d hoped for, teeth latch onto my bottom lip, puncturing and grinding to abuse the flesh in a bout of violence. “Ow, fuck,” I grunt when blood blossoms from the wounds it’s made. When it drips from my mouth into hers, she stills.
From one second to the next, all the tension evacuates her body, including that of her jaw, as she finally releases my lip. The sob that escapes her throat punches straight into my gut.
“Thorne?” Her voice breaks like sea spray on a cliff.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh. It’s okay.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me. As wetness soaks into my shoulder, I stroke my hand down her back. The misery in each sob is like having my foot dragged over coral. Nothing cuts quite as deep as her pain, not even my own.
“This,” she cries, “is why I shouldn’t be here.” Despite her statement, her nails dig into my back as she clutches the fabric of my shirt tighter.
“This is exactly why youneedto be here. This is where you belong. This is where you’ll stay.” The pounding in her chest beats into me, rapid and frantic like a frightened animal. I squeeze her tighter, wishing I could cocoon her in safety, but the supernatural is a much more formidable beast than her stepfather’s anger and her mother’s hands. “You’re safe now. We’ll figure out the rest.”
Her hands clutch at the back of my neck, cold palms siphoning my heat. To be needed like this by her is what I was made for. It’s what gives me the strength and determination to know that the next words that come out of my mouth are true.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Her body is flush against mine, and somehow, I hold her tighter still. She has to feel this oath in her bones.
“I want to believe that.”
“You should; it’s the truth.”
In response, she lets out a slow exhale like it’s the first she’s allowed herself in a while.
“Trust me, okay?” I run a hand over her hair, smoothing the green strands that have started to wave from the perspiration that gathered on her scalp during the altercation.The possession.I remind myself. It’s important not to minimize what’s just happened. I can’t let my guard down. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
“I can’t. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t trust myself.” Trepidation strums her vocal cords, throwing them off-key. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Leaning back, I take her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking under her eyes to clear some of the tears from her face. “You need to sleep. Exhaustion will make you weak. You’ll be more susceptible to manipulation.” She shakes her head vehemently, an argument on the tip of her tongue. “I’ll stay awake. I’ll watch you.”
“What if I try to hurt you again? I can’t be the reason you die. I won’t have your blood on my hands.” Her fingers wrap around my wrists, nails clinging to my skin in desperation that contradicts her declaration. I don’t mind. I’d give her every last drop in my veins if it were the price of her protection.
Her grip tightens as she winds up for a fight. “Take these off. Right now, Thorne.” My nickname on her lips is a healing balm on the lingering wounds she created when she left.
“Not a chance.”
“Fine. You leave me no choice, then.” Defiance darkens her eyes as she swings her fist into the bedside table. Her yelp of pain is shrill in my ear. She raises her hand to do it again, but I roll us so I’m sitting on top of her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes are a deep sea at the height of a storm, raging and roaring with chaos, as she clutches her injured hand to her chest.
“Did you really think you’re going to escape by breaking your hand?” I grip her chin gently but with intent. “Do not ever harm yourself for my sake again.” My breathing is short, her desperate actions heightening my own panic. But we don’t fear the same things.
Biting her lip against the pain that must be radiating through her hand, she remains silent, defiant, and determined to make the sacrifices she deems necessary.
“Dammit, Sol. Why are you so intent on doing this by yourself?”
“Because I would rather suffer the pain of leaving again than watch you slip away. I can’t sit by and watch the choices I made destroy you.”
“Get up.”
