Chapter 18: Briar

brIAR

When the door closes, I lean my head back against Sebastian. I stare at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, emotionally drained from today.

After a few moments, I realize I'm plastered against him. I can feel every inch of Sebastian, including his hard dick digging into my ass and lower back. My cheeks heat at unintentionally feeling him up with my butt. Flustered, I say, "Sorry, Professor." I cringe as soon as the words come out of my mouth.

He's asked me before not to call him "professor." Now really isn't the time to bring up that whole problem. That's one mess we can deal with later.

Besides, being reminded he's my professor might cause Sebastian to do something awful, like put on a shirt, and, boy, would that be a shame.

Sebastian groans behind me. "I took off your shirt, have my hand wrapped around your throat, and my hard cock shoved against your ass. For the love of God, Briar, just call me Bastian."

All good points. "I can do that," I squeak.

"Good." Bastian rests his chin on my head. "But that is a first."

"What is?" I ask, my forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"It's the first time a girl's apologized after feeling my dick," he informs me smugly.

A laugh bubbles up at his declaration. "Oh, wow. I see why you're so jacked. You have to lug around your massive ego all day."

Bastian barks out a surprised laugh from behind me.

Even Xander snorts. I've only seen him smile or laugh a handful of times. I feel on top of the world breaking Xander's cool fa?ade, even for a moment. My own lips stretch into a wide grin at his amusement.

"The lady's got jokes," Bastian says into my hair when he stops laughing.

"You know it."

"Can I look under your bandage, Briar?" Xander asks, walking closer. My breath hitches as he stops less than a foot from me. It's overwhelming being sandwiched between the two of them.

"Sure." Reaching down, I rip the bandage off with a quick flick of my wrist. I wince at the tape pulling out hairs as it comes off.

"Jesus. I was going to take it off slowly for you," Xander tells me. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Whoops. I thought he was telling me to do it.

Xander then looks down at my bloody and torn stitches. "Whoever stitched you up did a piss-poor job."

Taking in the wavy line of stitches and subpar knotwork, I can't help but agree. "It's not my best work." A monkey tripping on LSD would probably do a better job. Oh well. I don't really scar, so it's not a big deal.

Xander's eyebrows rise. "You stitched yourself?"

"Well, yeah. It's not like anyone else was going to." Patrick doesn't care if I survive his beatings. He's certainly not going to shell out money for someone else to stitch me up. If I don't want to bleed out, I have to do it myself.

Raking his hand through his hair, Xander glances away for a moment. Blowing out a breath, he turns back to me. "What did you use to suture the wound?"

"Sewing thread."

"Bet that hurt like a bitch," Xander comments matter-of-factly.

I huff out a laugh. "What a great bedside manner you have, doc," I tease him. "I was barely conscious. I don't remember the pain, just how gross it was." I've had to stitch myself up dozens of times. It's still disgusting playing with my own mangled skin and muscle.

"Fuck," Xander mutters while shaking his head. "Can you get my suture kit from my office, Bastian?"

"Sure thing, twinnie. I'll also grab some arnica cream for your bruises, pretty girl."

"Don't call me that," Xander grumbles as Bastian turns to leave. "Are you going to put on a shirt? We are still at school."

"Nah. The place is deserted, and I'm sure Briar will appreciate something pretty to look at while you fix her up." Bastian winks at me. I snort at his over-the-top confidence. He's not wrong, though. He is very nice to look at.

Shaking his head as Bastian saunters out of the office, Xander fixes his startling green gaze on me again. "You want me to redo all the stitches? Or just the ones that broke?"

"Just the ones that broke," I tell him softly. "I know it makes me a big baby, but I don't want to deal with more pain than I have to today." I duck my head to avoid any judgement.

Placing a gentle finger under my chin, Xander tilts my face back to his. "Sweetheart, you aren't being a baby. Grown men twice your size would be curled up, sobbing, if they had your injuries. You're pretty damn strong to be up and moving, much less at school, in your state."

A swarm of butterflies takes flight in my chest at his praise. He's the hardest brother for me to read. I never know where I stand with him. Anytime he shows any positive emotion toward me, I lap it up like an attention-starved puppy. Not knowing how to react to a compliment, I simply say, "Okay."

Xander's mouth tips up on one side at my lame response. He really is gorgeous, especially when he smiles.

I don't miss that Xander calls me "sweetheart." Apparently, I've also reached the pet name stage with three of my professors.

I don't have time to obsess over that fact because Bastian comes barging back through the office door. With a half bow and a flourish of his arm, he announces, "I come bearing gifts!"

"Oh, my hero!" I retort with a sugary-sweet, high-pitched voice. Bastian grins at my teasing.

"Heads up, bro!" Sebastian chucks a medical bag at Xander without warning. I don't have time to even cringe at the upcoming collision before Xander effortlessly snatches the bag out of midair. I'm impressed by his lightning-fast reflexes. He's as quick, if not a smidge quicker, to react than I am. I haven't met anyone with reflexes as fast as mine.

"Stand against Bastian, Briar," Xander orders, sounding almost identical to Malachi. "Bastian, hold her steady as I work."

My lips tilt up as I do as he says. When I lean back against Bastian's chest, he wraps his hand around my throat again, holding me still. "You and Malachi are so bossy. I'd think it's genetics, but Bastian's so chill. Why are you two so demanding?"

Xander lowers to his knees in front of me, and my mouth dries at the position. He glances up at me through blond lashes. "Bastian can be demanding, too. You just haven't seen it yet."

I laugh, trying and failing to imagine a bossy Bastian. "I'm not sure I believe you. When exactly is Bastian bossy?"

As I'm talking, Xander rubs a nifty numbing cream around the wound. It works so well I don't even realize he started until I look down. I quickly jerk my head back up because it's stomach turning regardless of who's messing with my torn skin. If I had known he was planning to use something to numb me, I would've taken Xander up on his offer to redo all the stitches.

Xander opens his mouth to respond when Bastian beats him to it. "Don't you fucking dare, Alexander. Karma's a bitch. You share, and I'll share." My eyebrows rise in surprise at the vehemence in Bastian's voice and him using Xander's full name.

He really doesn't want Xander to tell me, which just makes me want to know more. I hadn't believed that Bastian could be demanding until he reacted so strongly to Xander telling me about it.

Xander chuckles at his brother's reaction. "Fine. I won't tell her. She'll find out eventually, Sebastian." I'm dying to know what Xander was going to say and what Bastian was promising to share in response, but I doubt he'll tell me now that his twin threatened him.

He quickly finishes the two stitches and ties them off. When he's done with that, Xander smoothly stands up and puts distance between us. He busies himself with snapping off his plastic gloves and putting the stitching supplies away.

Bastian gently turns me to face him. "How about some arnica cream, pretty girl? It'll help a ton with your bruising."

I'm all for anything that'll make me heal faster. Shrugging my shoulders, I agree. "Sure."

"You'll need to take off your skirt for me to reach everything." Bastian's eyes bounce between mine, checking to see if I'm uncomfortable with his suggestion. I am uncomfortable, for the record. My torso and thighs are just one giant bruise. It's not exactly an attractive look.

I know I shouldn't care about how I look in front of them, but I do.

I'd rather they get their first look of me practically naked when I'm not such a mess. Snorting internally, I wonder when I'm ever not a hot mess.

But I need to heal. The faster I heal, the less likely Patrick will accidentally finish the job next time he beats me. Sighing, I nod and reach behind me to unzip my skirt. As it falls to the ground, the office door opens. My wide eyes meet Bastian's similarly panicked ones.

This so doesn't look good.

I'm mostly naked. At school. With two of my professors. One of whom is shirtless.

When Malachi is the one to walk through the door, Bastian and I let out matching sighs of relief. Malachi gets his first good look at us, raising his eyebrows at me. "What are you doing?"

That's a great question. Please ask again later when I figure it out. Right now, it seems like I'm making spectacularly bad decision after bad decision. Like showing them what Patrick does to me. All my poor life choices will eventually blow up in my face.

"Stripping," I tell him instead.

Malachi rolls his eyes at me. "I can see that, smart-ass. I was asking why."

"Bastian's going to put arnica cream on me." I watch him hesitantly walk toward me. Malachi's many things. Hesitant isn't one of them.

He stops a few inches away from me, stopping short of crowding me like he normally does. "I'm so sorry about yelling at you, Briar. My behavior was inexcusable. Please forgive me." His sad gaze peers down at me the entire time he speaks. I can see the sincerity and regret shining in his midnight ocean eyes.

"I forgave you as soon as it happened, Malachi." My fight-or-flight response activated at his angry voice. I wasn't ever mad at him or truly scared. I was just spooked.

At my words, his warm arms band around me and crush me to his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head. I savor the feeling of complete and utter safety that I have in his arms, until he reluctantly lets me go.

"You can keep holding her, Kai. I'm going to put the cream on her back first," Bastian tells Malachi as he steps up behind me. Malachi places his hand on the back of my head and smushes my face to his chest. My laugh is muffled by his shirt.

Bastian rubs cold, gooey gel on my back without warning. "Shit! That's cold!" I exclaim as I jump in surprise.

Both of them chuckle at my expense. I'd glare at them if I could move my head. After a few minutes, Bastian's completely covered my front and back. I don't feel any different, other than a little slimy from the arnica's gelatinous consistency. Hopefully it will do its thing quickly. I'm already sick of being tender and sore all over.

"Am I good to get dressed now?" I ask as Malachi lets me go.

"Unfortunately, yeah." Bastian pouts. I grin at his antics, even though I know there's no way he can enjoy staring at me in my underwear right now. I don't particularly want to look at my black-and-blue torso, and it's my body.

I make quick work of putting my clothes back on—or as quick as I can with my stiff muscles. I don't want someone else to walk in while I'm undressed. My arms don't want to bend behind me to put on my button-up. After a few moments, I finally get my uniform shirt back on.

"I guess I should head home?" I ask hesitantly when I finish dressing.

Malachi's gaze snaps to mine as he rumbles out, "Not a chance, baby girl. You're not going home to an unsafe situation."

"I don't have anywhere else to go, Malachi." My voice is quiet as I think about how few people I have in my life.

"You're coming home with us."

"What?" I squeak.

"If you can convince me you're safe at home, you can go. Otherwise, pack your shit and let's go."

I can't convince him because I'm not safe at home. In my current state, I'm not sure I'll survive another beating tonight. Spending the night with the Grimm brothers is probably safer.

Although, I don't know them well enough to be one hundred percent positive they won't murder me and dump my body in a shallow grave. Or a deep grave. They seem like the type to be thorough when burying bodies. I wouldn't want to get myself offed by a mediocre killer. That would just be embarrassing.

Even with the small chance that they're serial killers, I'm still a ton safer with them than with Patrick. They might kill me. Patrick will kill me. It's just a matter of when. And tonight might be the night if I piss him off again.

Decision made, I quietly pack up my bag and turn to Malachi. He raises his eyebrows at me. I fidget for a minute, before asking, "What?"

"I expected more of a fight."

"I mentally calculated the odds of getting murdered by you or at home. You won, by a small margin," I add to antagonize him. I don't know why I love pushing his buttons, but I do. Immensely.

Malachi huffs in irritation but doesn't rise to the bait, choosing instead to pack up things at his desk.

Bastian, however, laughs in surprise. "Your mind sounds like an interesting place. I'd love to be a fly on the wall for your mental conversations."

I snort. "My head is a messy and chaotic place." Not to mention depressing. "Trust me. You're lucky you're not in it."

Bastian's eyes fill with understanding and sympathy. I wonder if his mind is filled with boxes of memories and emotions that are too painful to look at.

Unused to anyone seeing so much of my feelings, I look away, breaking eye contact with him. When I look back after a few seconds, Bastian's pulling on his undershirt. He throws on his dress shirt but doesn't bother buttoning it.

"Everyone ready to go?" Malachi asks as he surveys us, gaze lingering on me.

"I need to grab my bag. Then I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand." Bastian practically sprints out of Malachi's office. He returns a few minutes later with a packed bag, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Malachi puts his hand gently on my back to steer me out the door and down to the faculty parking lot.