Page 46 of Like a Hurricane

“Fucking assholes,” Arryn grumbles, “I hate them. Are you sure my sister is safe?”

“Those men there are watching her,” I assure her, “Day and night. She is guarded.”

“Thank you,” She breathes, “I just don’t understand how we all got in this mess.”

“Unfortunately,” I kiss away a lone tear, “darkness and death have always ruled, it’s just hard to see.”

She watches her father’s service in silence. She keeps track of her younger sister, sobbing quietly on my lap while she makes her speech. She addresses the room, pleading for information again on Arryn’s whereabouts before they’re all silenced in preparation for Victor’s burial.

The hitman targeting Arryn never leaves. He remains a stoic presence at the back of the room, the guys I have employed standing close to him. I could order a hit on him, but it wouldn’t do much good, someone else would only take over the job.

Arryn got one thing right, this whole situation was a mess, and it was getting impossible to clean.

Chapter Twenty-two

Arryn didn’t speak a single word after the service ended. She sat bundled under blankets in front of the fire. But she didn’t cry again. Her eyes were rimmed red, her skin pale and almost sickly and I didn’t know what the fuck to do to help her.

I place a new mug by her side and take away the one from before, still full but long gone cold. Her vacant eyes pass over the mug once before she goes back to staring at the fire.

I had to believe letting her see her father lain to rest was the best thing to do but now I’m wondering how much damage I have done.

Or was this simply how grief worked? I didn’t know, I’ve only dealt with three deaths in my life. My father trained these kinds of emotions out of us, or he tried to at least. It didn’t work so much on my brother Torin; Kolten was just a bottomless pit anyway and I was somewhere in the middle.

I didn’t know what to do.

“You need to drink something, princess.”

“I’m okay,” She murmurs, facing the flames. The glow of the fire dances across her face, highlighting the deep shadows under her eyes, the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Her eyes were blank, nothing warm or lively was in that stare.

“Princess,” I plead, getting to my knees at her side.

Slowly, she turns her face towards me and lets her eyes drop down my frame. Not in any other way than bored before she leans in and kisses me. It shocks me enough that for a minute I just let her before my mind kicks back into play.

I pull away from her, but she follows, “Stop.” I order.

“Just kiss me,” she whispers, climbing on my lap and straddling my thighs.

“No, stop, Arryn.”

And now I understood. She didn’t like these feelings; this intensity of her sorrow was eating at her, and she was prepared to use me here and now to get rid of those feelings. While I have no problems letting her use me whichever way she pleased, I wasn’t going to allow her to bury these feelings like I was taught to do.

I do not believe the way I handle emotion is healthy and I’ll be damned if I let this woman drown in darkness. It changes people. And Arryn was perfect the way she was.

“I let you push your feelings away once, little storm, not this time. You need to feel them.”

“No, it hurts,” She whimpers, attempting to kiss me again. I grip her chin, stopping her, seeing fresh tears fill her eyes, turning the color almost neon against the darkness of her lashes and hair.

“I know it hurts, princess, but the pain tells you how much it means. You lost your dad, and I haven’t seen you grieve him. You need to grieve him, baby, otherwise you’ll do so much damage to yourself.”

“He wouldn’t want me to cry.”

“Bullshit.” I growl.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” She tries to tell me even as her voice wobbles and tears roll over her cheeks, catching in the corners of her mouth.

“Don’t you lie to me, princess.” I wipe at her face, catching her sadness on my fingers, “Cry, baby. I’ve got you.”

She shakes her head furiously, “No.”

---