“You got a concussion,” he explained, his voice gentle as he took a few steps forward and paused. “Your memory is fluctuating right now. We’ve already had this conversation twice before.”

  I took another step back, unsure why. He was safe. Rags was safe, why was I trying to get away from him? “It’s fucking Monday,” I snapped, my hands shaking, my entire being trembling. It couldn’t be Saturday. If it was Saturday, then…then what the fuck happened to me? What happened to me? My eyes filled, my breathing labored. What the fuck happened to me?

  “I came home almost two days ago, Emily,” he explained gently. “I gave you a shower, changed your clothes, gave you some Aspirin, put you back on the couch, and cleaned up the place.” He inhaled deeply. “It’s Saturday.”

  I shook my head, tears filling my widened eyes, my hand gripping into the hair at my scalp, the pain pounding down my spine, my arm. What the fuck was happening to me?

  “I should have called sooner, I should have pushed when you said you were sick.”

  I gaped. “When I fucking what?” I half sobbed. I shook my head, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. I fell back a step, catching myself on the arm of the couch.

  Rags was at my side, pulling me into him, and I clutched into his shirt, the sobs breaking through me as his arms tightened around me. “What happened to me?” I demanded, my voice cracking, the words broken.

  He slid his hand behind my head, the scent of his cologne sliding through me, trying to calm every terrified piece of me. “You were taken.”

  ~~~

  I had finally gone to the bathroom.

  Rags explained what had happened to me beforehand, and now I was sitting at the table as he cooked me some food. Everything had started to scream in pain, so he gave me some more Aspirin, which while it helped take the edge off, did nothing to ease the pain in my soul.

  According to he, Jeremy, Ash, and Syn, Diamond’s secretary, who had no knowledge of the setup, had come to get me, claiming that my dad had been in a car accident. They had gotten the exact model of town car my dad’s driver always drove, the man picked me up, and drugged me.

  After that, well, I saw the remaining evidence while I went to the bathroom. The bruises were still dark, the cuts still healing. If I still looked this bad five days in, God knows what I had looked like Monday evening.

  As far as Rags could tell, they had gotten a lookalike to take my car from the school to my building, and Jerry said that when they brought me back, it was one woman, carrying me. He thought I was drunk, passed out. He didn’t ask any questions other than asking if I was alright.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring the memories up. Everything was just…it was gone. Poof. Like it never existed at all.

  Rags set a plate of food in front of me, placing a glass of soda and a paper rose next to it, Sirius laying directly in the center of the table, watching me with steady eyes.

  I lifted my eyes from the bubbling soda to him. “It’s 9am.”

  He nodded, setting a plate down in front of himself as he sank into the chair cattycorner to me. “You need the calories, the sugar. Four eggs for protein, bacon for fat, bread for carbs, fruit, and a soda. You don’t have to eat it all, just some.”

  My brow furrowed, my lips pulling down in a frown. “You’re always hounding me to drink water because I drink too much coffee.”

  He nodded. “In the last five days, you have drunk about 10 gallons of water. You’re hydrated, baby. Overly hydrated. In fact, you drank too much water.”

  My brows lifted. “What? Seriously?”

  “I can only come up with two reasons why you did that. One: you were still reading my texts, even though you didn’t respond to all of them. You were drinking it because I told you too. Or two: the body heals better if you are hydrated. Your primal instincts took over, but that wouldn’t account for the over-hydration. I think you were doing it because you wanted to make sure you were still doing as I said, still trying…trying to make me happy.”

  I watched him for a moment before turning back to my food and picking up my fork, but I didn’t feel hungry. I knew I was, rationally, I could feel my stomach growling, but I didn’t feel hungry. I pushed my eggs around, my eyes lifting to the cat, her eyes locked on me. I frowned. “Why is Sirius acting like that?”

  Rags followed my eyes. “She’s protective. She saw that you were hurt, and she tried to do her best to take care of you, protect you. She hasn’t eaten either. I tried to get her away from you, make her eat, but she ignored me.”

  I watched the cat for a few more seconds before stabbing a small piece of egg. Even the smell of it made my stomach turn. “Um,” I cleared my throat. “Ash and Syn?”

  “Worried,” he answered quietly. “Angry at me for telling them they couldn’t come up here. Ash confessed to me that she had lost her key, but from her story,” he went on as my eyes lifted, “I think they stole it off of her in the middle of the night. I haven’t told them what happened, just that you slipped into a deep depression, that you needed time and space.”

  My eyes filled as I set the fork down, unable to force myself to eat. The guilt felt overwhelming. “You said I texted you?” I asked, my voice thick. “But I didn’t text them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He hadn’t even made a move to touch his food. “I don’t know. You probably had a reason, you just can’t remember it.”

  I fell back into my chair, my hands covering my face as the tears began to fall again, my shoulders shaking. An entire fucking week. A week of ghosting the people I care about most in the world, and I will never know why? That was fucked. This was so fucked.

  I heard Rags’ chair scrape back against the floor, and then he was pulling my chair out and turning me to face him.

  He crouched down in front of me and reached up, gently pulling my hands away from my face. Rags carefully wiped the tears away. “Listen to me,” he spoke, his voice, his touch, so gentle that I felt like I might shatter completely, “I am so sorry this happened to you. I never should have left you. You’re going to be okay, Emily. Malachi has pulled everyone. We are all looking for the person who did this, but I swear to you, I swear that you are safe. You are safe now. Nobody will ever touch you again.”

  I released a shuddering breath, trying to understand what he was saying, trying to work through the fog in my head. “What did they do to me?” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. He had told me as much. Malachi and Matthew had been watching Eris and Diamond. They were following the rules. The person, the people, who had taken me had nothing to do with the drug ring, they were separate. Someone after Rags or Malachi, thinking they could use me to hurt them.

  His jaw feathered. “They tried to use you as a message, but they didn’t realize that Malachi had already given his blessing. You’re a part of The Family now, Emily. You mean as much to my brothers, to Malachi, as I do. And I am…I am so sorry.”

  Tears burned his eyes, the guilt was eating him alive, but the thing was I signed up for this. For this life. I told him I wanted him, whatever that meant.

  But I suppose nobody truly knew the meaning of that until they were thrown in headfirst without warning.

  I leaned into his hand, sliding my own over his as it cupped the side of my head. I didn’t blame them for this. He or Malachi. It wasn’t their fault. Rags was back now, and I was safe, that’s all there was to it. So long as he was here, I would remain safe. “Please don’t leave me again,” I whispered, uncaring of how desperate it sounded. “Please.”

  He shook his head, clearing his throat. “Never again.” He stroked my cheekbone with his thumb a few times before standing and kissing my head. “You have to eat, okay? Please. You have to eat.” With that, he stepped back and took a seat again.

  I turned back to my food, staring at it, really feeling like I was going to vomit if I even tried to eat. I released a breath and reached for a slice of toast this time. I brought it to my lips, testing it with my tongue, my stomach growling in response. I just needed to eat a little. Just enough to make him happy.

  I released a breath and bit into it chewing it slowly, my mind sparking in joy, as if it were proud of me for finally deciding to eat something.

  A ravenous hunger started to build under my skin, and I found myself digging in, scarfing down half the plate and half the soda before finally leaning back, my mind clearing of that horrible fog, my body feeling a little stronger.

  “Better?” he asked as I watched Sirius eat the leftovers I couldn’t touch.

  I nodded, finding his eyes, exhaustion sweeping over me again. “Better.”

  34

  Emily

  December 7th, 2021

  Four days passed.

  Four days of eating, stretching, showering, and soaking in the tub, and watching television.

  Four days of just being in the loft.

  Rags didn’t leave me once. He was on the phone a lot, but he never left the loft.

  I texted Ash and Syn, telling them that I was okay, apologizing for the silence, and trying to comfort them while I focused on healing myself and trying to force my mind to remember the smaller things.

  The only problem with that was I kept forgetting what I was supposed to remember.

  It was incredibly frustrating, and Rags had held me for hours on end as I cried because of it.

  The cuts were finally scabbed over, the bruises yellowing, and the soreness was finally easing. Everything felt better, physically. I felt stronger, and I was finally getting back into the swing of things. I couldn’t have felt more grateful for Rags, honestly.

  “Where is he?”

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been laying in the bed, somewhere between awake and dozing.

  I blinked a few times, finding the black screen of the television, hearing Rags’ voice drift through the house as Sirius purred happily in the crook of my armpit, causing for a very uncomfortable position once my brain was finally made aware of it.

  I groaned, stretching, causing her to shift, but only because my arm moved.

  “No,” Rags stated as I pushed myself to a sit. I had been sleeping on the couch these last few nights. I truly couldn’t remember why, but I was sure Rags would tell me soon enough.

  I pushed the blankets to the side and pulled my knees up, wearing his boxers and tank top this time. I loved the way they hung on me. I loved how much they comforted me. Wearing something that belonged to him, it helped.

  He was pacing the length of the sliding glass doors, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, his hair a mess, his face clean shaven once again. He looked angry, tense.

  “How many do you think there are?” he asked quietly.

  My heart fluttered as I watched him, and for the first time since he had left for the conference, I felt arousal start to warm in the pit of my stomach.

  “Just fucking find them,” he snarled through his teeth. “I want their heads on a goddamn platter, so whatever you have to do, fucking do it.” He hung up with a finality, anger radiating from him like a heat wave in the desert.

  I carefully pushed myself to a stand, Rags slowing in his angry pacing when he caught sight of me. His eyes roved over me slowly, warming my insides. “Hey,” he greeted as I made my way around the couch. “How are you feeling, Snowflake?”

  I yawned, rubbing my neck. “Good,” I breathed out as we both made our way down separate paths to the kitchen. “Who was that?”

  We hadn’t done anything more than touch since he had gotten home. He cleaned my wounds, held my hand, the occasional brush back of my hair, but nothing more than that. I couldn’t be sure why. Maybe he was afraid I would break. Maybe he was afraid I wouldn’t remember, whatever it was, I missed him.

  He was living in my loft, and I felt like the distance between us was as far away as the conference had been.

  “Malachi and Jack,” he answered as I took a seat in the barstool. He grabbed my favorite mug, a nerd mug, Ash had called it. It was shaped like the Tardis, and I absolutely adored it.

  He poured some creamer into it. “Malachi found the driver; Jack spotted him through glitches in the camera’s feed.” He poured the coffee in and walked over, sliding it over to me. “Smart enough to disrupt the feed, stupid enough not to wear a mask.”

  I could still see that flicker of anger in his eyes, just ever present now. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, chewing on my bottom lip, searching his eyes. “Professionals, but not like you guys,” I concluded.

  He looked exhausted. I couldn’t remember if he had been sleeping well. Had I asked? “No one is like us,” he confirmed. “We’re a step forward, but not where I would like to be.”

  I nodded, my hands tightening around the mug. My fingers still hurt. Rags thinks they might have attempted to snap my acrylic nails off, I didn’t like thinking about it. “That anger,” I finally said, trying to hold his eyes as nerves burned through me, “it’s been in your eyes since that first morning. Are you angry at me? Because I didn’t say anything?”

  I still couldn’t remember those days. All I could pull up was going to school Monday morning, and then nothing, but I would understand if he was. I would have been.

  His brows softened and he immediately shook his head. “No, never.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. After a moment, he ran his hand through his hair and walked around the counter. “I was angry,” he admitted. “When Ash first told me. I thought you had lied to me. I thought you were so scared that I would be angry, that you decided the safest thing to do was keep whatever it was from me, but then I got here. I walked in and all I could think about was how hard it was to breathe.”

  He caught my chin gently, gazing at me with this look that broke my heart. “The thought of anyone taking you away from me,” a muscle in his jaw feathered. “The rage you see isn’t because of you, Emily. It’s because I’m terrified of losing you. It’s because I hadn’t been here and if something had happened to you?” he breathed, his voice thick. “I wouldn’t have survived it. I would become something worse than Azrael.”

  I reached up, cupping the side of his face, seeing the pain in his eyes, it broke something inside of me. I wanted to feel connected again. I wanted to take him to our euphoria, to remind him and me that we were still alive, still here, still breathing. “Take me to the bedroom,” I requested, watching his eyes darken at my words. “Please,” I added, stroking his cheek. “I want us to feel again.”

  He watched me for a moment before stepping back, taking me in. Looking over the yellow bruises, my scabbed over hands. I could see the war in his own mind. He didn’t want to hurt me. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fuck, he just didn’t want me hurting anymore than I already was.

  “Grey,” I breathed out, turning to face him.

  His eyes lifted back to mine, concern, guilt, and lust in their depths.

  “Please,” I said again, desperate.

  Something overtook him then. He held out his hand and relief flooded through me.

  I took it without hesitation, and he gently pulled me up, leading me to the bedroom, his eyes constantly locked with mine as if I might disappear if he looked away.

  My heart thudded against my ribs as he led me to the bed. “Take off your clothes,” he instructed gently.

  I nodded, slowly reaching for the hem of my tank top. I was still sore, but not enough to cause me to wince as I easily pulled it off, revealing myself to him. Revealing my already hardened nipples and the goosebumps that flooded over my skin.

  I shivered and slid down his boxers, the warmth already pooling between my thighs.

  I straightened and watched as his eyes slid over my body. Slowly, softly, as if he were trying to memorize me. “Close your eyes,” he told me, walking up to me.

  I did as he said, shivering again. I felt overly exposed as his presence overwhelmed me, but we had done things like this before. Me closing my eyes while he overloaded my senses in other ways. It had healed me in ways I never thought I could be healed.

  Grey stepped up behind me, close enough to feel the heat drifting off his body, but he didn’t touch me. He lifted his hands, hovering them over my arms, running up and down the length of them as he tilted his head forward until his breath teased my neck.

  My lips parted in need, every hair on my body standing on end as he just stood there, teasing the length of my neck with his breath, teasing my arms with his hands. Fuck.

  God, I wanted to fall into him. I wanted to press myself into him, feel him with everything I was.

  “I won’t let you go,” he hummed just before his presence disappeared from me, only to reappear in front of me a moment later. He stepped up until I could feel the ghost of his lips hovering above mine. “Ever.”

  I clenched my hands at my side, forcing myself to remain still even as I felt his hands hovering over my breasts.

  “Don’t move,” he mumbled, his hands disappearing from above my breasts. I felt one hovering over my left hip, the other shuffling elsewhere.

  God, I wanted to look. I wanted to see what he was grabbing, stroking. I wanted to see him touch himself for me.

  His tongue darted out, grazing my bottom lip.

  I groaned.

  “Don’t move,” he reminded me, leaning forward until I could feel his lips just a millimeter from mine. Until I could feel the tip of his cock touching my pussy as he stroked himself slowly. “Feel.”

  I could feel my arousal dripping down my legs, I was throbbing, aching for him.

  I released a shuttering breath, my nails, once again healed and growing, bit into my skin, my toes curling.

  “Stick your tongue out,” he mumbled.

  I swallowed the drool building in my mouth and stuck my tongue out.

  Grey moaned, his tongue finding mine. He licked up the length of it. “Fuck.”

  Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.

  “Kiss me,” he told me, “in a way that proves to me how much you missed me. No touching, Snowflake, just kissing.”

 

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