Chapter 23 Pathetic And Weak
INDIE
I awoke slowly, stretching my body as I yawned. Sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, warming the sheets that were tangled around my legs. I reached across the mattress instinctively. It was empty. Disappointment instantly crashed over me. It was empty.
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and that's when I saw it.
A single red rose lay on his pillow with perfect petals. It was thornless too. Tucked beneath the stem was a folded note in his familiar, elegant handwriting. It was too pretty to be a man’s. I used to tease him about it back then.
I picked it up with careful fingers.
'Morning, Bunny. You looked too peaceful in your sleep. I didn't want to wake you up. Lila's fever broke at dawn. I checked twice. Mason's on guard duty outside her door. I had to handle something downstairs. Won't be long. Don't go anywhere without me.
—Z'
A tiny, ridiculous smile tugged at my lips. I pressed the note to my chest for a second, breathing in the faint trace of him that lingered on the paper. Then I tucked the rose behind my ear like some lovesick teenager and slipped out of bed.
The packhouse hallway was quiet except for the distant murmur of voices. I padded barefoot to Lila's room first.
The door was slightly open. Mason stood just outside, with his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but alert. He gave me a small nod when he saw me.
"She's still out," he said. "Her breathing's steady. And there's been no fever since about four this morning."
Relief hit me right then. I pushed the door wider.
Lila was curled on her side under a thick quilt, one small hand fisted around the edge of the blanket. Her cheeks were pink but not flushed. Her breathing was deep and even. I stood there for a long minute just watching her chest rise and fall.
I didn't wake her.
I simply pressed two fingers to my lips, then touched them lightly to her forehead before backing out. Mason gave me another nod as I closed the door softly.
Downstairs the kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and something buttery—pancakes, maybe. My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten properly in... gods, I couldn't even remember.
I entered the open space and froze.
Enid stood at the island, pouring coffee into a delicate porcelain mug. She wore a cream silk robe that looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe back home, her hair swept into a loose, effortless knot. She looked up when I entered, and she flashed me a sweet smile. Except that smile never reached her eyes.
"Good morning, Indie," she said brightly. "Did you sleep well?"
I didn't answer right away. I just watched her.
She lifted the mug towards me. "I made extra. Black, no sugar. Zade's favourite. I figured you might like it the same way."
I stayed where I was.
She tilted her head, her smile widening a little. "Come on. You must be exhausted after yesterday. Sit. Let me pour you one."
Something about the way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But I was tired, and the coffee smelled good, and maybe I was reading too much into it.
I crossed the room slowly and slid onto one of the stools. She turned to grab the pot, then she swung around too fast.
Hot coffee splashed across my chest and stomach.
I gasped, jumping back. The liquid soaked through Zade's T-shirt instantly, scalding my skin. Pain bloomed on my skin right away.
"Oh my gods," Enid gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! I'm such a klutz sometimes."
She grabbed a dish towel from the counter and started dabbing at my chest. The towel was rough, scraping over already tender skin.
So, I stepped back, taking the towel from her.
"It's fine," I said tightly.
She tilted her head, her expression softening into something that looked almost sympathetic.
"Really, Indie, I feel awful. You've already been through so much." Her gaze darted down to the wet fabric clinging to me, then back up to my face. "It's just... hard to watch someone try so hard to fit into a world that isn't theirs, you know? Zade's always needed someone who understands the weight he carries. Someone who can stand beside him without... caving in."
The words stabbed right through my chest. She was trying to say that I was weak, wasn't she?
She was right. I even had to depend on Zade to save me. I wasn’t strong enough because I had never shifted. All I had was my wolf's voice in my head and my healing powers.
Enid smiled again, as if she was truly sad and that she was the one doing me a favour by saying it out loud.
"I mean, look at you," she continued, her voice gentle. "You're sweet. Really. But sweet things won't survive long around him. Zade needs someone who can match his darkness, not someone who wilts under it. You do wilt, don't you, Indie?"
My fingers tightened around the towel until my knuckles ached.
She reached out as if to pat my arm and I jerked back.
"Don't," I said.
Her hand froze mid-air. Then she lowered it slowly, her smile never wavering.
"Of course. I'm sorry again about the coffee." She glanced towards the hallway. "I'll let you clean up."
She turned, her hips swaying as she walked out, leaving the half-full pot and the bitter smell of spilled coffee behind.
I stood there, my chest heaving.
The rose was still tucked behind my ear. I reached up, pulled it out, and crushed the petals in my fist until red stained my palm. Then I dropped them into the bin and turned on the faucet to wash my hands.
The water ran red for a long time.
I didn't cry.
Because I knew that she was preying on me because she thought I was pathetic and weak. But I was done. By all means, I would grow stronger. Deep down, I had a feeling Enid had only just established her willingness to tear me down. Like hell would I let her win.
...
A while later,
I stepped out of Zade's walk-in closet, my hair still damp and heavy from the shower. The blow-dryer hummed in my hand, warm air still curling from the nozzle. I'd thrown on one of his black button-downs again. I needed to go shopping. Most of my old clothes didn't fit anymore. But how could I tell him that?
I halted when I saw that I wasn't alone. Zade sat on the edge of the bed, watching me with a familiar hunger. Black sweats hung low on his hips, his chest bare. I gulped, taking in the expanse of skin. His abs were like huge bars of chocolate.
"Hey," I said, clearing my throat, suddenly hyper-aware of how little I was wearing under the shirt.
He crooked two fingers.
"C'mere, Bunny."
I slowly walked over to him. He spread his thighs wider and guided me between them until my legs brushed the inside of his. Then he turned me around so my back was to his chest and pulled me down to sit on the edge of the mattress between his spread legs.
His strong thighs caged me in, his arms coming around me.
He reached for the dryer without a word, clicked it on, and started working through my wet strands with careful strokes.
"Where did you go this morning?" I asked.
"Council meeting."
"Because of the revenants?"
He hummed in response.
His free hand slid under the shirt and found my one of my breasts.
I sucked in a breath.
His palm was warm. He cupped me fully, his thumb brushing slow circles over my nipple. It pebbled instantly under the lazy pressure.
"Zade..." I croaked.
"Hmm?" He sounded perfectly calm, like he wasn't currently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger while drying my hair with the other hand.
I tried to focus. "What... what are you doing?"
He turned the dryer off for a second, set it on the bed beside us, and wrapped that arm around my waist to keep me pinned against him. His other hand never left my breast, kneading gently now.
"I'm drying your hair," he murmured against my ear, his lips brushing the shell. "And I'm touching what's mine."
A small, involuntary sound slipped out of me as he pinched lightly and tugged.
"Zade..."
He hummed again, pleased. "You make the prettiest little noises when I play with these." His hand shifted, cupping the underside, lifting like he was testing the weight. "Fuck, Bunny. Look at how perfectly they fit in my hand. So full. So soft. I could do this all damn day."
Heat rushed between my thighs. I squirmed, pressing back against him, and felt how hard he already was.
"You're impossible," I breathed, but there was no real protest in it.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through my back. "I'm addicted to you." His fingers circled my nipple again. "To this body. To the way you melt when I touch you. To how these tits feel in my hands. I'm a breast man, baby. Always have been. And yours?" He squeezed gently. "Yours are fucking perfect."
I let my head fall back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttering closed. Every slow roll of his thumb sent sparks straight to my core. My thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to ease the ache.
"Zade..." Another soft moan escaped when he tugged again, just hard enough to make me arch.
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of my neck, right over the bite mark he'd left yesterday.
"I want to fuck you every day and night, Indie. I want to watch you shiver and writhe as I teach you the meaning of pleasure. But I know there's a barrier between us. That's why I have made up my mind," he said, and I gulped.
"Made up your mind to do what?"