Page 26 of Bleed the Shadows
It had hurt me to see her chained to the wall, naked and scared. Had hurt me to know the Ghosts had done that to her against her will. And then, after the hurt had passed, it had pissed me the fuck off.
My body coiled at the thought of the Ghosts, which was easier to think about than Maeve, who was back in the loft, everything way more complicated than it had been the first time she’d come to live with us.
And that was the thing: I didn’t want Maeve to be our guest for three months.
I wanted her tostay.
The Second Noble Truth in Buddhism was that the root of suffering was desire. The path to liberation then, to not suffering, was not to desire anything, not to become attached to anything.
Or anyone.
But I’d never claimed to be Buddhist, and I felt the clinging of my own mind, a futile death grip on something — someone — that wasn’t mine.
20
MAEVE
It wasovercast and gray when I woke up the next morning. I lay in bed, looking at the tops of the old buildings that surrounded the loft on the south side of town. Beyond Main Street, I could just see the tops of the trees in the Blackwell Preserve.
It was one of the things I’d come to love about living at the loft the last time I’d been here: the old brick and concrete set against the lush greenery of the woods — now gold and brown with fall — that started just a block away.
The contrast wasn’t unlike the Butchers, who were beautiful and comforting and rough and raw in equal measure.
It was early — not quite eight a.m. — but I felt refreshed after my long sleep, so I used the bathroom, shot Bailey a text to let her know I was back with the Butchers, and grabbed the hoodie I’d pulled off in the middle of the night.
Then I stepped out into the hall.
It was quiet, and I remembered my first morning in the loft after the last Hunt. I’d been uncomfortable then, scared and unsure. I felt that way now too, but for an entirely different reason, and I made my way down the stairs at the back of the halland walked past the first-floor gym and library to the combined kitchen, living, and dining rooms.
Back in the small apartment I shared with Bailey it had been easy to forget that the loft was super nice, well designed, and filled with beautiful, sleek furniture that looked like it belonged on the social media profile of an architectural or interior design influencer.
I sank into the safety of it: the thick walls blocking out noise from town, the expensive rugs layered over the concrete floor, the black-framed factory windows that stretched almost all the way to the ceiling.
Someone who knew more than me would probably have called it industrial chic, but I was struck by the solidity of the old brick building and the quiet reassurance that whoever had built it had money to spare.
The kitchen and living room were empty — no surprise since Bram and Remy were almost always up later than Poe — but a glance out the glass doors in the living room told me Poe was meditating on the balcony.
I could only see the tip of his head from inside, and I approached the doors with caution, like a trip wire might be waiting to blow me to pieces.
And in a way, it was. I was back where I’d started with the Butchers, except this time I knew how much I wanted what was on the other side of that wire, knew I might be willing to trip it — be blown to pieces — just to get it.
I opened the doors and was hit with a blast of cold air as I stepped onto the metal balcony.
“Jesus,” I said, shutting the door against the wind.
I turned to find Poe watching me with amusement.
“I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re not coming out here to meditate with me.”
I couldn’t help it: my gaze raked his naked body, starting at his face and traveling over his inked chest and flat abs, down to his dick between his folded legs.
“Naked? It’s way too cold for that.”
He glanced at his dick. “Shrinkage is natural in the cold. I’m secure in my manhood.”
I snorted. “I’m happy for you. I’m freezing my ass off and I’m fully clothed.”
“It builds character,” he said. “Resilience.”
