Page 24 of Buried Souls
“Touchy,” I mutter under my breath as I reach for the plates and utensils before getting to work, enjoying the task at hand.
I’ve always found peace in doing small everyday chores, in their repetitiveness and the mindless state that is required for accomplishing them. My brain always rests while doing such simple jobs, taking the time to reset itself from the hours of research and reading that I’m subjected to on a daily basis as a result of my chosen profession.
“About yesterday—”
The door bangs open, cutting my words off.
My head whips around as the scent of cedar and pine envelopes me. I suck in a strained breath, my gaze colliding with Niko’s.
He’s cloaked in a hickory colored raincoat, the shiny material drenched while water drips down his towering form onto thetiles, forming a puddle beneath his mud caked army boots. He stands stone still, not blinking, as if not breathing at all as he holds my gaze.
There’s nothing kind in the man’s eyes, nothing warm in the way he’s looking at me, yet warmth spreads through me, nevertheless, warming my insides like a furnace and making my heart beat wildly against my chest.
We stare at each other from across the room, the air crackling with electricity, our surroundings completely forgotten about, as if non-existent, neither one of us saying a word. The plates are frozen in midair, my fingers clutching the porcelain until my knuckles turn white.
Rein clears his throat, breaking the spell. “Brother, you might want to get cleaned up, breakfast is almost ready.”
The massive bear of a man blinks, kicking off his boots and soaked clothing, completely ignoring his younger brother’s remark.
“What happened to you!?” I run to him, alarm shooting through me when I see the substantial crimson stain across Niko’s shirt. “You’re bleeding!”
He steps back before I can reach him, not giving me the chance to touch him, as if afraid that I might be infectious. Not a moment later, he’s already climbing up to the second floor and out of sight.
Perplexed at what just transpired while feeling very dejected, I stare at the space where the man was standing, the puddle and dirty shoes the only indications that someone was, in fact, occupying the space mere seconds ago.
“Don’t take it personally, Elena,” Rein says flatly, seating himself at the long rectangular dining table overflowing with food. “He’s always been like that. Ever since that tragic day when he lost his entire family,” he trails off, lost in thought.
Sudden anger shoots through me. I don’t care for his reasons.No one has ever treated me with such a blatant display of disrespect before.
I run up the stairs, taking two at a time, my blood boiling. How dare he make me feel so small and inconsequential.
Storming into the only room visible in the long hallway, ready to give him a piece of my mind, I come to a screeching halt at the sight before me. My words lodge in my throat, my anger replaced with concern.
Niko is sitting on the side of a heavy four poster bed bigger than I’ve ever seen in my life, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing an ugly three inch deep gash across his chiseled chest. Dark red blood oozes out of it, streaming down his front, staining his skin. He’s dabbing it with a wet gauze, hopelessly trying but failing miserably to stop the flow.
Marching over, I yank the material out of his hand. “You’re doing it all wrong. Here.” Kneeling between his spread legs, I set to work, keeping my eyes averted to the wound.
He grabs my wrist, halting my hand’s movements. “You shouldn’t do that.”
I jerk, unable to free myself, still not daring to meet his burning gaze. “And yet, I am doing it.”
“Little Miss Proper is a stubborn one—” I press the fabric into his wound, furious that he keeps calling me that. He hisses, pulling me close, only a hairsbreadth separating us. “You need to leave.”
“And you need to stop telling me what to do.”
Fuming, I finally look up. Eyes the color of roasted coffee beans pierce me, freezing me in place. I suck in a breath as something tugs at my heart.
“You will do as you’re told,” he growls, his features turning grave. His hold turning punishing.
I jump up, all sense of self-restraint forgotten about. “I’m not a child.”
He pulls me back down, his strong arms going around me as he plants me on his one knee. “And yet you keep behaving like one. You will learn to obey me, Elena. Or youwillbe punished. It’s not an empty threat.”
The words hang heavy in the air. Too sharp. Too true.
A long silence passes between us.
I lift my chin. “I already told you, you don’t scare me.”
