Chapter 6

6

SLOAN

A dull pain throbs behind my left eyebrow, my eyes burn, and I don't think I've ever felt this drained. I want to curl up on this too comfortable couch and sleep for the rest of the day. My meeting with Dr. Grayback isn't done, though. I reach over and tug yet another tissue from the box. I've lost count of how many I've used and I'd feel embarrassed if it wasn't for the older woman across from me.

Dr. Anna Leigh Grayback is one of those women who has been a matriarch all her life. The moment I'd entered her office I'd felt her power and the aura of strength surrounding her. She has the aura of a woman who has weathered many storms and has come out victorious. Her face is lined with age, but she holds herself with the same grace as an auburn haired Helen Mirren. She's mastered the maternal presence that makes you want to lay your burdens at her feet, while balancing it with a low tolerance of bullshit.

She honestly reminds me of my mother, someone I haven't spoken to since I ran away when I was 17 thinking I was in love with Paul, the almost thirty year old man who brought me into the Justicars.

"You need to think about what you really want," Anna Leigh, as she insisted I call her at the beginning, says as she uses her pen to mark her place when she closes her brown journal before setting it on the low table beside her wingback chair. Teenage me would be envious of the chair, since I'd always loved the feeling of curling up with a good book in one. Anna Leigh looks back at me, crossing one knee over the other and lacing her fingers together over them.

I take a deep breath, letting it slowly, and press the fresh tissue against my eyes to capture the fresh tears. I've cried in front of someone more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last decade.

"I just want to be normal," I answer at long length. "But I don't know what that is. Or how to get there."

"How do you feel about journaling?" My knee jerk reaction is to refuse. If I write something down, someone else could find it and use it against me. Almost as if she's able to read my thoughts, she continues. "You don't have to, but I want you to try. Start with just writing down things that you want, here and there. It doesn't have to be detailed or big things. It can be as simple as what you want to eat later that day. Do you think that's something you can manage?"

I give her a small smile, sure it's more sad than happy. "I can try, at least."

Anna Leigh reaches across the small distance between us, her soft hand grasping mine with a comforting squeeze. "Trying is all anyone can ask of themselves. Sloan, look at me." She waits until I bring my eyes up to meet her compassionate hazel eyes. "You aren't broken or unforgiveable. I see so much strength in you and I want to help you discover it, for as long as you will let me. Are you willing to meet me again next week?"

My throat tightens and I look away, shame urging me to pull away. "I'd like that, but I don't have any way to pay for the sessions."

"You let me worry about that," she says, letting me go with another pat. "Most therapists will work on a sliding scale, since we recognize there is a need but not always full funding. Before you say anything else, know that I bill the motorcycle club when working with their security clients. Now, if that's good with you, let me check my calendar."

Ten minutes later, I'm leaving the small practice's single bathroom after splashing cool water on my face and meeting Lacy and her husband, Cinder, in the lobby. The two of them picked me up at Bones' apartment this morning, with Lacy bringing me a new change of clothes and Cinder giving Bones a break from watch duty.

Thinking of Bones has anxiety threatening to drag me into a spiral. I can't believe I let myself spill most of my heart out while sitting in his lap. Then wearing only his shirt after the shower? I have no idea what I was thinking. I just know that I find him attractive, but I can't trust myself when it comes to men. My last choice got me trapped in an extremist anti-supernatural creature cult. Bones is the complete opposite, literally what the Justiciars teach as their greatest foes.

Did I want to tempt Bones because I really want him or because I wanted to separate myself further from the Justiciars?

Even I don't need a therapist to tell me that I need to figure that out before anything happens between us. That's if he's even interested. I thought he was last night, but he kept his distance the entire night then told me this morning Cinder was picking me up.

"All ready?" Lacy's bright, cheerful voice brings me to the present and I offer her a polite smile while nodding. She stands up from where she'd taken a seat in the waiting room, Cinder rising with her. If I thought Bones towered over me, Cinder is a giant compared to Lacy. It's not the first time I've seen the couple, having sat on the outskirts of their reception at the Styx. "Awesome. I'll let Kennedy know we're on our way back."

Right, because we're going to Lacy and Cinder's place rather than to Bones' apartment.

"Okay," I say, for lack of any better response. It doesn't seem to bother either of them, as Lacy lets the silent Cinder guide her towards the glass front door. Lacy's got her phone out, talking about their newborn Axon while her thumbs fly across the screen. She narrowly avoids crashing into the doorway because Cinder steers her to the right just in time. She barely loses her balance, and other than shooting Cinder a big smile, doesn't pause in conversation.

It's dizzying, the amount Lacy talks and her rapid-fire topic changes. I can barely keep up.

I follow them to the gray four-door Bronco they picked me up in. Cinder opens the front passenger door for Lacy, making her giggle as he pats her ass as she climbs in. I hurry to open my door myself, ignoring the stab of unfamiliar envy at their dynamic. Even with their clear differences-not even counting the fact that he's a demon and she's human, the love they have for each other is so obvious. It's what I thought I had with Paul before harsh reality shattered my perfect world.

Lacy twists in her seat after Cinder starts to drive. "Hey, why don't we stop by the store and get you new clothes?"

I get why Cinder calls her Sunshine, the petite plus-size woman is like a beam of sunlight right to your heart with her big smile and doe-like eyes. She's the type of woman who loves with her entire being and while I haven't known her for long, she doesn't seem like she's ever down for long. She's the complete opposite of her demon mate. Cinder is terrifying enough on his own, but add in the gruesome burn scars on his face and side and he could easily be the vision of nightmares.

"Sunshine," Cinder rumbles before I figure out how to reply and stretches a hand across the middle to grab her bare thigh below the cut-off of her jean shorts. She frowns at him, like she doesn't understand. Then she huffs, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face before tucking the short strands behind her ear and looking back to me.

"Ugh, men am I right?"

I swear I catch Cinder rolling his eyes in the rear-view mirror. I'm frozen, waiting for him to lash out at her for being disrespectful, but he doesn't change his focus from the road. Maybe he's waiting until they're alone?

"It's really okay," I tell her, hoping to mitigate any anger Cinder might direct at her later. "Cinder knows best and if he thinks we need to wait, we should." I paste on the dreamy, pleasant expression that saved me plenty of times in the past.

Lacy stares at me for a beat, her eyes quizzical like I'm the weird one for trying to settle the situation. "Hun, no man knows best when it comes to a woman and her clothes."

For crying out loud, does this woman really not fear getting punished for disrespect? I flinch as Cinder lifts his hand from her thigh without taking his eyes off the road and pulls a bit of her hair. She yelps, her face whipping towards him.

"I'd say I know best when it comes to you and your clothes," Cinder growls. Lacy gapes at him, and then her face turns lobster red before she playfully shoves his shoulder.

"Babe! If you had it your way, I'd never wear clothes!"

A low rumble fills the car and I realize it's Cinder actually laughing at her. She joins him a moment later giggling, then shoots a "what can you expect" look at me before sitting with her back against the seat again.

"I guess it'll be funny making Bones go clothes shopping," Lacy concedes, and then perks up. "Oh, you can make him get new clothes too! I swear these demons refuse to get anything new until it's literally falling off of them. It'll be perfect timing since the party is coming up in a couple days."

"Party?" I ask, my head spinning. I have no idea what my life even is right now and now someone is talking about a party?

"Oh, yeah!" Lacy says with some excitement as Cinder takes us into a neighborhood. She twists in her seat to look at me in the back again, like she can't contain herself. "The club throws parties most weekends when they don't have any jobs to do. We had to cancel the last one because, well, you know." She's talking about the attack I was forced to participate in. She keeps going, bulldozing right on and making it impossible to feel awkward. "Then we had our reception, which was just the Knights and our friends. I know the boys have been getting restless, and there's only so much work they can do before they need to let off some steam. So I heard from Sydney that Reaper finally put the word out for a party. What's the official reason the prez gave, babe?"

"A living memorial service for Heathen, since the Silvermoon gig is coming up quick," he answers as we pull into the driveway of a cute little ranch style house. A motorcycle that I assume is Cinder's is parked on the left side of the driveway closest to the front door.

Silvermoon has a familiar sound and it's not long before I recall that Bones had been talking about it yesterday morning with another one of the demons. The two men hadn't bothered keeping their voices down while discussing it and Heathen.

"I don't know who I pity more," Lacy says as she unbuckles. "Heathen or Bellamy."

"Definitely Bellamy," Cinder answers with a gruff laugh before getting out of the Bronco.

I'm realizing that Cinder might be a silent, terrifying guardian to me but to Lacy, he's something softer. And much more talkative.

In a daze from everything this morning, I get out and follow a few steps behind the couple; Lacy is still a chatterbox. He opens the front door for her and when I go to enter, he drops an arm across the doorway making me stumble back a step with surprise.

When I look up into his eyes, all hints of anything soft have disappeared. Cinder glowers down at me; the promises of pain and death in his eyes makes me swallow hard.

"You make a single move towards my son that is in any way threatening and I will not hesitate to tear your skin from your body, do you understand?"

I nod frantically, too terrified to speak. His gaze stays on me for a tense moment before nodding and dropping his arm to let me pass.

My knees are weak and shaking as I walk by him, my eyes downcast. I follow the voices until I'm in a dining area attached to a kitchen that looks in the middle of a remodel. Lacy is bouncing a gurgling bundle, while a dark haired beauty--Kennedy I assume--is cooing at the infant and telling Lacy how good he was for her.

"Oh, hey," Kennedy greets, looking up at me.

"Hi," I respond, feeling incredibly awkward. "I'm Sloan."

Cinder breezes past me, preventing me from answering, and walks up behind Lacy to lean over her and gaze at the half-demon infant. That pang of envy makes my chest ache and I struggle to breathe at the sight of the small family. Cinder's unscarred arm is around Lacy's waist with the ease of intimacy as his entire demeanor softens from the threatening male he was moments ago.

I used to dream of being a mom, of having a loving husband who'd be a fantastic father. I'd given up that dream years ago. Even if I escaped the Justiciars, who would ever want someone with my kind of baggage?

I try to picture myself in Lacy's shoes and with startling ease, I can see it in front of me. Me holding a baby girl with my eyes and her father's hair. Me, looking up at the man who owns my heart just as Lacy is doing now to Cinder. Except instead of a half-scarred demon in human form, the face smooths out and changes--

The front door opens and I spin around, heart racing and tense, ready to run.

Bones strolls in, saying something over his shoulder before looking back and noticing me and stopping.

Speak of the devil.