Chapter 22

22

SLOAN

B ones' confession sends me into a tailspin. My heart races even as I try to control what I know now are trauma responses. My brain screams that I can't trust Bones while my heart is telling me that it's not true. That it can't be true, because I love Bones and he's supposed to love me.

Paul said he loved me too.

I sit up, clutching my arms over my chest to hide my nakedness while I try to keep my breathing under control. Desperately trying to fend off the looming anxiety attack, I start looking around Bones' room.

My shirt on the floor.

My panties tangled with my jeans.

He broke people--the way I was broken.

The stack of photographs that I'd looked through.

He loves me, though. He would never do that to me.

The white blinds covering the window.

The pile of dirty laundry shoved in the corner.

The bed shifts behind me preludes Bones' voice. "Sloan?" He sounds as shaken as I feel. The air moves and I flinch away before he can touch me. Agony lances through me. I didn't do it because I don't want him to touch me.

"Bones." I twist in place, my heart aching and mind spinning like I'm strapped in one of those old g-force rides they put astronauts in.

He's moving towards the end of the bed, yanking his pants up and refusing to look at me. The bond that should be there between us, the thin connection I'd been ignoring while cradling close, is closed off between us. The tattooed rictus grin counters the pain filled grimace on his face.

I want to tell him that it's okay, that I understand. That I . . . that I don't think he's like them? Even when his words and past tell me otherwise? There's so many things I want to give voice to but the words aren't coming. When he pushes up onto his feet, I scramble to follow. The panic inside me splits in two. One: that he's right and I should leave him before I'm the next one he hurts. Two: That he's about to shut me out of his life forever and break my heart in some unnecessary heroic gesture.

As I reach for him, a hard pound on the door has both of us looking towards it.

"Bones. Sloan. We leave for Cerberus in five," Reaper's grim voice bellows from the other side. "Stubs has Xavius' location and we need to move before we lose the opportunity."

"Got it," Bones calls back before stooping over to grab his shirt from the floor. Can Reaper tell his voice is thick yet brittle? That the two of us are waiting for the ice to break underneath us, plunging us into a reality neither of us will be able to escape?

He yanks the shirt on over his head, covering up the miles of muscled torso I'd just been running my hands over while he fucked me into oblivion.

I grab his upper arm, uncaring that I'm naked while he's already dressed. I don't care that I'm heading straight into a death spin of an anxiety attack and mental shut down. I'll hold the damn thing back by sheer force of will for the next few minutes, even if that means the crash will be worse later. It's not even that Bones is worth it, though he is.

I'm worth it. That's the best thing I've learned over my twice weekly sessions with Dr. Grayback. My future happiness is worth confronting and pushing through the hard things.

He stills at my touch but he won't look at me. That's okay. I don't need any bond between us to feel the pain and rejection pulsating from him.

"We don't have the time to fix this right now," I get out before swallowing. My throat is so damn dry and hoarse. "I just need to know that you know I want to figure this out. Whatever figuring this out looks like."

He tries to shrug out of my grip, but I refuse to let him go. "What is there to figure out?"

God, he already sounds so defeated. Like he's already given up on us. Anger shoulders its way in between my dual panics. My blunt nails dig into his skin and I throttle his arm until he gives me the decency of his gaze. "Is that it, then? You've just decided without me?"

His brows narrow, before he runs a hand through his dark hair. "Fuck. Sloan. I don't know what you want me to say."

I shake my head and let him go. My movements are sharp and jerky while I pull on my clothes. Men are so fucking stupid sometimes. "I want you to say that we'll figure this out," I snap while shoving my foot into my jeans and hobble in place beside the bed. "I want you to say ‘I love you, Sloan. We're in this together.'" Jeans on, my shirt is next and I practically growl as I shove my hand through the neck hole rather than the sleeve. When I've figured it out, I whirl on him and close the space between us. I point at him, poking him in the center of his chest. "I want you to say that this isn't the end of it for us."

He captures my hand in his, his eyes falling closed. He's gripping my hand like a lifeline, and finally I feel a crack in the wall he's built between us. It's a crack made from hope but pain is the only thing leaking from it. I don't have any idea what I'm doing but I recall the intense affection and belonging I'd felt with him during our lovemaking. I picture wrapping that feeling around him, pushing through the pain in that crack to show him a better future.

Bones shudders and the crack grows wider, opening the bond between us a little bit more. My own anxiety is calming, I realize, as I focus on building the connection between us. My own fear is still there, but it's quieter. It's being pushed into the background, like it should be. The anxiety's grip on me is lessening. It's still there--I think it'll take years until this reaction is gone.

I step into him, resting my forehead on his chest, trapping our hands between us. "You aren't that person anymore. I'm not the same person I was months ago. Just don't decide what happens to us without me."

Bones doesn't answer, but he squeezes my hand briefly and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He lets me go and coughs to clear his throat. "Reaper is expecting us."

I study him but he's already leaving the bedroom. The voice saying that he's going to hurt me, that I need to protect myself from him using me like everyone else is still there but it's not as loud. I can manage whispers, I remind myself as I follow him to Reapers office. So long as nothing happens that will make those whispers louder, I can get through this.

That whisper roars to the front of my thoughts, screaming and shouting as Reaper asks, "Are you willing to use your powers to assist us if it becomes necessary?"

He's reasonable. The question itself is reasonable. I should have expected it, but somehow I didn't.

Everyone is waiting for my reply, the air is so thick around the table at Cerberus Securities where we sit that I can't suck any of it in.

This is how it started, with the Justiciars. Would I be willing to help for the greater good? They can do this without me but the outcome will be better, safer for everyone involved, if I work with them.

Most of the demons who work for Reaper in the security business are here. Each one watching me. I want to shrink in my chair, loathing being the center of so many intense gazes.

"No."

It's Bones who answers, and white relief washes over me at him taking the decision away from me. It's different than earlier, as stupid as it sounds to myself. I'm strong enough to fight for us, but fighting for myself? I don't know when I'll have that strength but it's not today.

Bones doesn't look at me, but he reaches for my hand and I grasp it between both of mine. He's practically vibrating with tension as he glares down Reaper. I dart a look around the table at the other demons gathered. Cinder. Blaze. Chainz. Stubs. Heathen. Brute. They're all watching the silent war between Reaper, their boss and club president, and Bones.

Reaper looks away first by sliding his gaze to me, not an ounce of intensity changing. I fight a shudder and struggle against the urge to bolt. Whispers of instincts honed long ago by my ancestors back when humans were nothing more than nomadic creatures eking out a survival in the wilds tell me that this male, this demon, is a creature of death. That any soul caught in his presence is a soul already dead.

His voice is as hard as a brutal winter wind. "Sloan?"

"I--" I cut myself off, coughing to loosen the tightness in my chest. "I would rather not," I confess. Unable to bear his near black gaze any longer, I drop my eyes to the table in front of me. "Honestly, if I could have this Siphoning power taken from me, I would. It's caused so much pain. I . . . I don't want it."

I brace myself for the ridicule, the condemnation, the insults. Not just from Reaper, but from the rest of the demons, too. They're all males with powers, powers I'm sure none of them are unwilling to use. They're willing to fight for me against Xavius, but now that I've admitted my reluctance surely they'll no longer think I'm worth helping.

"Fine."

It takes me a moment to really hear Reaper's response. By the time I'm gaping at him, wondering if he really just accepted my refusal without argument, he's already going over a strategy.

Bones' squeezes my hand and I turn my stunned gaze to him. There's still a distance between us, but it's one that feels easily crossed in time. When the pain isn't as fresh and raw. He dips his head close to mine, his mouth at my ear.

"He'll never ask for more than someone is willing to give, no matter what it is," he whispers. "It's a vow he made when we escaped here, together. That's why we follow him."

My eyes burn with tears as he pulls back and turns his attention to the club president again. I suck in a ragged breath, doing my best to be discreet but from the understanding look Heathen shoots me, I'm not as quiet as I think. He turns his attention to Stubs, who is talking now, giving me a reprieve from being the center of attention.

In fact, they all make a point of ignoring me, like they know I'm struggling to keep my composure after the emotional whiplash I'm dealing with.

God, I'm actually struggling to believe that Reaper actually accepted my refusal to use my so-called powers.

I know Dr. Grayback would just be telling me that this is what a real relationship with a boss should be like. A healthy interaction with anyone, really. Where consent is vital and respected, regardless of the situation.

I've got my thoughts as settled as they can be, given the emotional roller coaster the day has been, by the time I feel Reaper's gaze on me again. I look up, this time with a steadier resolve.

"Are you ready?" he asks and I capture my bottom lip between my teeth and shoot a look at Bones. He nods subtly, encouraging me. I nod at Reaper. "Give Stubs your phone, and then he'll send a text to Paul asking to meet up in the morning. If you would prefer, he or Bones can handle the communications with him."

I release a breath. "No, I think I can handle that. If I can't, I'll let someone take over." I pull my phone out of the small purse I picked up a while ago and slide it across the table towards the demon I've never seen far from his computer bay.

Reaper raps his knuckles on the table and pushes his chair back. The rest of the males follow, their chairs sliding almost noiselessly on the polished floors. "Then let's get everything in position. This time, tomorrow, this shit will be over and done with."