Page 133 of Lessons In Grey

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 justbeingin 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 becauseof 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 meslowly, warming my insides. “Hey,” he greeted as I made my way around the couch. “How are you feeling, Snowflake?”