Chapter Four

I couldn't seem to scrub that memory from my mind. It was worse than the one I'd gone through before, because this one I clearly recalled on my own. I remembered after that, how fucked up I'd felt, the way I'd showered and scrubbed and thrown away the clothing I'd had on. Maybe for someone else it would have been some defining moment, but it almost felt worse that it wasn't.

Someone touched my shoulder, causing me to jerk away, my eyes peeled wide. I could still feel that memory, the way that asshole had grabbed at me, the sensation of his warm, sour breath on my face.

Harrison pulled his hand away and took a step backward. His expression showed no signs of hurt, as though my overreaction didn't matter to him, though he still gave me space.

"Sorry," I muttered, then forced myself to put on that mask I always wore, the one of the jokester who nothing ever affected. "Who would have figured I'd become a germaphobe, huh?"

He shook his head as though disappointed by the weak attempt, then set a drink before me. I didn't ask what it was before picking it up and taking a sip.

And immediately spitting it back into the cup. "What the hell is that?"

"Tea."

"I've had tea. It isn't this gross, bitter leaf juice."

"You've had sweet tea, Grey. That is not the same thing. Now, drink it."

"No, thank you."

He lifted one of his light-colored eyebrows as though unused to people telling him no. "You were attacked by a Mind for the second time in less than a week. That will throw your body out of sorts and can cause low magnesium. Thus, the tea is made with a magnesium supplement to counter that before you suffer from the effects, which can include anxiety, trouble sleeping and muscle cramps." He gestured at the cup. "Now, drink."

I thought about arguing again—the taste really was horrible—but the idea of having added anxiety on top of the mess in my head seemed worse. I gave in and lifted the cup, staring it down like an enemy. Thankfully, it wasn't that hot, so I did it the same way I did cheap liquor, gulping it down like a shot before slamming the cup on the table.

Harrison sighed— loudly— before taking the cup away. "Was that my own little glimpse into what you look like drinking?"

"A lady never tells. Besides, you could come bar hopping with me if you want. I bet you're fun after a few shots."

"As I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know." I paused, then furrowed my brows. "Why does Ignis drink, then?"

"She's far less powerful, so it doesn't affect her as much. It just causes us to have trouble controlling our powers, but it doesn't increase them. For her, it causes headaches, and she feels the emotions of those around her more, but it isn't nearly as troublesome or dangerous as it would be for me."

"You have those subtle brags down, don't you?"

"It is hardly a brag—subtle or not."

"Yep. Poor me, I'm just a super powerful and handsome Mind. You should feel so bad for me."

"That is the lamentations of those who misunderstand the stresses of power. Ignis may live where she wishes. She can interact with who she pleases, shape her life as she wants. For me, that is not possible."

I glanced around his massive living room, the décor sparse and modern. "Yeah… I feel really bad for you in your mansion."

"Do you know why I live here?"

"Because you're filthy rich?"

"Because this property sits on five acres, giving me enough space to not worry about neighbors."

When I didn't seem to understand what he meant, he sat in a chair across from me.

"I have lived here for ten years, but it was not my first home on my own. I lived closer to the city at first, in a smaller place with neighbors to each side. I had thought I'd learned enough control to make it safe. However, as the days passed to weeks then months, the community around me changed. That softness that existed before, the closeness between the residents, it cracked and left jagged edges. Couples split up, families fought, children suffered, but still I assumed those things the normal goings-on beneath the surface of all places. It was four months after moving in when I awoke to the flashing lights of police on the street." He crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. Despite his flat, careful words, a tremor vibrated beneath them, a sign that it affected him more than he let on. "The father in the house to my left had been a sweet and quiet man. He'd lived his life doing everything he was expected to. It took only four months of living beside me for him to take a gun and end the lives of his wife, his three children, then himself."

I sucked in a quick breath, the story worse than I would have even guessed. The horror of such an action was bad enough, but the realization that he was responsible for it? A weight that heavy could easily end a person.

He nodded, then jerked his gaze from mine to stare out of the large window that showed the open land between him and any neighbors. "So you understand now why I live where I do. People can spend short periods of time around me, but eventually they all become affected. No matter how strong a person, spending time around me will turn them to their darker feelings. They will give in to the darkness inside them because that is what my power does—it infects those who come in close contact with me."

I frowned as his words—full of so much self-hatred—hung in the surrounding air. And, even if his reasoning was different, even if the effect he had on others was different from my own, I understood that isolation.

My crow did the same thing, didn't it? Hell, I'd been annoying even before that, but since changing? I thought about my place, full of stolen trinkets I'd been unable to not pocket, the times I'd annoyed others just because I couldn't help it.

How much worse would I feel if my actions had caused actual harm to others?

But I knew better than to come out and say that. Harrison was proud, just like me, and he wouldn't appreciate that from me.

So instead, I brought my legs up and crossed them in front of me on the couch. "So why'd you bring me here?"

"You being attacked was my fault."

"Pretty sure you didn't do it." I paused, a nagging concern I couldn't quite identify refusing to go away. "You didn't do it, right?"

He tilted his head as though he couldn't make sense of my words.

"I mean, you did show up both times I was attacked, and you are a Mind, right? So, you didn't do it, did you?"

He blew out a slow breath as though I were a lot to deal with. "No, Grey, I did not attack you. I am apologizing because I never thought you would be targeted. You told me what the attacker said, and I disregarded that. For that reason, you being attacked a second time is my fault."

I waved my hand at him to dismiss his worries. "Please. I get attacked often enough that it's hardly anyone's fault. You can't take that on your shoulders."

"Regardless—you are being targeted by someone who is under my command. That makes me responsible. If he has attacked you twice, I see no reason he wouldn't make a third attempt. For that reason, you should remain here. Under my protection, you will be safe."

"What happened to the whole— I am an island, I must live alone— thing?"

"You do not appear to be affected by my powers. I can't read your mind or feel your emotions and you don't react to my feelings. You seem to be perhaps the only person who can remain this close to me."

I pursed my lips as I thought about it. That was almost some weird romantic notion, like fate had bound us. Maybe it had? Fate was one random ass bitch, after all.

"What if I don't want to stay?" I asked.

"I won't force you. You can leave if you wish. However, there is a very good chance that you will be attacked again if you do. Given your reaction this time, I suspect you'd rather that not happen?"

I snorted at his high and mighty tone. "You know I have other friends, too, right? You're not my only option."

"Actually, I am. Minds attack in a way that other Spirits cannot defend against. A vampire or a werewolf or a justice or even a druid could do nothing to keep you safe. However, no Mind is stronger than I am, and I would immediately sense them before they even got close. Also, this one has fled from me twice, so I doubt they'll approach while I am here."

I exhaled in a quick rush, feeling entirely outmaneuvered. "Fine," I said when I could come up with no other option. He was right that I didn't want to experience that hell again, so I lacked any actual choice.

Harrison nodded, then rose, reminding me he was taller than I realized. "I expect that I will handle this issue within the month, at which point you can return to your old place and your normal life. Until then, I will try to make this as easy a process as possible. You must be tired—and still drunk—so follow me to your room."

I did as he said, because it was far from the first time I'd had to be put to bed to sober up. Of course, it wasn't usually in a strange house with a man who probably wasn't going to sleep with me.

This was shaping up to be a really fucking boring sleepover.

* * * *

He was touching me everywhere. It made me want to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth, fear tightening my throat. I shoved, but he grabbed my wrists and held them in a single hand, making me curse the fact that men were so much stronger.

The sharp edge of his belt buckle dug into my thigh since he hadn't removed his pants. This wasn't important enough for him to do that. So instead of bare skin against mine, it was just rough cloth and droplets of sweat.

"Relax, Grey," he whispered. "Just let it happen."

Just accept it. Just do what I was supposed to. Stop being so difficult. I'd heard it all my life, the vicious words that had carved out so much of my soul.

"Grey," the voice repeated, the tone slightly different. I shook my head and tried to push away both the man and the voice. The calling of my name went on, shifting from that breathless, vile, lust-filled voice to a more familiar one, though the edge of panic was new.

"Grey!" That last shout got through, and I bolted upright.

I stared around, having no idea where I was for a long moment. Light streamed in through a window, the warmth of it a nice way to wake—my racing heart aside.

On the other side, standing next to the bed, was Harrison with a strange expression on his face. Fuck, I didn't know his face could do that. Normally he had little to no emotion, so bad that he reminded me of older women who paralyzed their faces to the point they couldn't move them anymore. Maybe that was why the way he looked at me was even more startling than my nightmare.

"What a way to wake up," I muttered, leaning forward on the bed to catch my breath.

"You were crying and whimpering," Harrison said. "Why?"

"What, you've never heard of a nightmare?"

A line appeared between his eyebrows as though he had to do some serious mental gymnastics to make sense of his own thoughts. "I have never seen you make such faces or noises. I found them…distressing."

I laughed softly. "Well, I'm so sorry for distressing you."

He sat on the edge of the bed beside me. "Such noises don't bother me generally. I feel people's emotions already, even if I attempt to ignore it, to block it out. It's normal for me, so why is it that when you do it, I feel…uneasy?"

I had no idea what to say, so instead I took a moment to study his face. It somehow looked different than it had before. I recalled when I'd first argued with him at Ignis' office, the way he'd stared at me as though I'd been nothing.

No, that wasn't quite right. I'd thought it was pride or arrogance before, but I knew better now.

It had been fear.

Fear of getting close, fear of feeling too much, those had kept him distant. However, sitting beside me, he didn't seem nearly so far away.

He seemed really fucking annoyed about it, too.

"Was the nightmare because of another attack?" I asked.

"No. I would have felt that. Was the nightmare the same thing from the attack?"

I nodded, shuddering as soon as it brought back the sickening feelings from the nightmare. My stomach rolled, and I worried for a moment I wouldn't be able to keep it down.

All the alcohol I'd drank the night before probably worsened the situation.

I wasn't some freshman co-ed who'd never drank before, though, so I swallowed to settle my stomach and drew my hands into tight fists.

"You flinched last night."

"What?"

"When I touched your shoulder, you jerked away. Minds can not only go through the memories of a person, but can create horrors of their own. Which was it that they made you see?"

"My own memory."

He nodded, still not looking my way. "I thought so. There's a type of pain between fantasy and reality. False horrors are terrible, but memories? Knowing it happened? Those hold a different level of panic. What was the memory?"

"Yeah, thanks, but I'm not really interested in tearing open that wound for you to dig around in."

He sighed, the sound making my chest ache. Why the fuck should I have felt bad over not wanting to tell Harrison every last little painful event in my life? Hell, I barely knew him, all things considered.

Before I needed to explain myself, however, he spoke again. "I understand. However, you should sleep more."

"After that dream? Not happening."

"I was thinking—I can't feel your emotions or thoughts normally, but perhaps if I attempted it, I could help?"

"No thanks." I tapped my temple. "This is a clear VIP members only, and I'm the only VIP on the list. I like to keep this mess private."

"I wouldn't try to read you, just to ease you back to sleep. I think I could keep any additional nightmare away."

I took my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure. The last thing I wanted was another nightmare, but the idea of relying on him, of trusting him, that felt even scarier than the dream itself.

I shook my head to refuse. "Thanks, but I'll be okay."

"I just want to help, and that isn't something I normally want to do."

"I know, and I mean it, thanks for the offer. I just…" I sighed, then forced myself to answer truthfully. "I feel like someone has already walked all around in my brain, and the last thing I could handle right now is for someone else in there. I need to feel like my mind is my own."

He sighed but nodded. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand your reasoning. Well, if you won't go back to sleep, then go ahead and use the bathroom, then dress. There are some items hanging in the closet for you to use, and we will stop by your place today to pick up the things you need. You have an hour before we leave." With that, he rose, the softness between us disappearing as though it had never been there at all.

It made me wonder just how much that man was hiding, because he sure as fuck wasn't telling me everything.