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I felt Wesley slip from the bed and leave the room quietly. He had been holding me in the cradle of his arms more often than not over the last week while I recovered but his thoughts had been too loud to remain relaxed, so he untangled our limbs gently and excused himself. I stretched carefully, trying not to overuse the sore muscles and torn flesh that had been damaged by the chandelier. I was paying for that act in more ways than one.

My body ached something terrible, but that ache was nothing compared to that in my mind. The nightmarish visions that twisted my perception of reality were constant and unrelenting. There were times when I could have sworn I was awake and the Manor would attack one of them. I would thrash and try to help them only to wake up restrained and be told that I had lashed out in my sleep. I could never tell what was real or not anymore. It was terrifying.

I slowly made my way out of the bed, testing my balance on the floor before fully committing to standing. I needed to get out of this room. As much as I appreciated the care and attention of both Koen and Wesley, I found myself missing Clay.

It had been nearly a week since I had seen him and my body begged for contact. I made my way down the hall, pausing often to allow myself a breath. I entered his room, hoping maybe he was in the library and I could curl into his sheets. Just a moment of peace, engulfed in that lemon, ginger, and leather smell without bothering him.

Books piled on every surface, even in his unmade bed. The dark linens tangled around piles of paper and his laptop. I carefully moved around them as I crawled onto the mattress, not wanting to disturb anything but aching to be a part of his space.

Since my outburst with Wesley it was becoming increasingly apparent that Koen knew what had happened. I barely spent a moment without the warm touch of him. Wesley shooed him away periodically to take his place but he was more concerned about my alone time.

Settling for his scent was enough. My face was buried in his sheets, a comforting peace fell over my shoulders and relaxed the tension between the blades. It wasn’t long before my eyes grew heavy again with sleep.

I woke to the sound of water running in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Steam billowed against the ceiling and I felt a moment of panic. He had avoided me; I didn’t mean to invade his personal space. I just…missed him and, as human as that emotion was, it also felt sticky because lately I hadn’t felt very connected to actually feeling human. I pushed my tired bones from the sheets, a small involuntary whimper dragging from my lips as I did.

I could hear him moving around in the bathroom.

Kill him.

The Manor had been quiet externally but much more violent in its invasion of my mind. Craving blood and demanding that I take it. My fingers twitched at my side. I didn’t want to hurt them. NO.

He will turn on you .

In some moments, its words could trigger a flash of rage I couldn’t control. The Manor played on my weaknesses. Knowing their loyalty to each other scared me more than anything.

You mean nothing to him.

Kill him.

Do it now.

I opened my eyes, blinking the darkness from them, and found myself at his dresser, my fingers rolling over a hunting knife that he had left with his gun and other weapons. How did I get here? I stopped, pulling my hand away from it and turned to leave.

“Florence.” Clay’s hand wrapped around my wrist.

A painful sob left my throat before I could stop it and Clay was pulling me against his wet chest, wrapping his arms around my body and nuzzling his nose against my neck. I felt his chest rise and fall as he inhaled me, his fingers tightening around my body. The house grew quiet and with it the venomous whispers. For a moment it was just Clay and I. His body melted into me as his heart matched pace with mine and his breathing was steady and even.

I hated how badly my mind was fighting against my heart. How easy it was for the darkness to suffocate the tender moments. The blood lust flooded back in so quickly I barely had time to steel myself.

Coward .

The Manor scolded me but I was too lost in the guilt that gripped me as Clay held tight. I opened my mouth to speak but his lips found my skin and it silenced me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and another sob threatened to expose how heartsick I was .

He had no reason to apologize.

Weak.

“Be quiet,” I whispered, and Clay lifted his head, his body shifting until he could see my face. His hands didn’t leave my skin. He was so warm from his shower that I could feel my frozen temperature, even more so when my eyes glided over his toned and tattooed torso.

“Are you okay?” He asked me, as his hand traced my throat to cup my jaw.

“No.” My brows came together in a pathetic attempt to keep from crying. “I didn’t mean to bother you,” I said.

“You aren’t.” Clay pulled my chin and brought me to his lips. The kiss was tender and I closed my eyes, allowing it to fill me until I could feel it all the way through to my toes. “I missed you but didn’t want to push you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so…” I tripped over the words and turned my head to catch the pain that flickered behind his gray eyes. “It seems as though I’m the one turned around now.”

“Don’t worry,” he hummed like we weren’t fighting against the clock. “I’ll find you.”

They were simple words that meant more to me than I think Clay understood. There was very little I could do about the outbursts; my brain barely belonged to me. But I trusted Clay to search for me in all the darkness surrounding me. If anyone were willing to search until he couldn’t walk, a search even on his hands and knees, it would have been Clay.

He’ll betray you.

I tensed at the thought .

“What was that?” He looked down over my body for any physical signs of what might have caused the shift in body language and frowned when he came up empty.

I could tell Wesley hadn’t told him about the episode with the gun. From the way he only questioned and didn’t hover, like Koen did, but I couldn’t understand why. It left me stuck deciding whether or not to be honest with him.

“Florence?” He waited, pushing a strand of my hair away from my face.

If he knew the truth.

“It’s nothing.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Are you sure? Because we had a deal.”

How does he expect you to be honest when he’s not honest with you?

It was not the Manor that time, it was my own voice, dark and twisted that echoed in my mind. I licked my lips and nodded. “I promise.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked me and I shook my head. My appetite had been returning in waves but, after mentally sparring with the house, I only had the energy to sleep.

“I know I’ve been awful,” I said, pressing my cheek against his warm chest. “But will you stay with me tonight?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he mused and nuzzled his head against my hair, damp curls sprinkling droplets of water.

“That’s what got us into this…” I stopped and squeezed him a little tighter. “If you can’t say no… taking away your choice isn’t fair.”

“I’ll apologize for anything, Florence–” He cupped my chin in his hand and lifted my gaze to meet his eyes. “I won’t apologize for that. My choices are my own. ”

Heat filled my chest and warmed my cheeks as Clay smiled.

“Get back in bed,” he ordered with another carefully placed kiss. “Please.”

“Only because you asked nicely.” I let go of him reluctantly and climbed back into the bed, noticing that he had moved the papers and laptop while I slept. How long I had been sleeping was a mystery but it had quieted the voices in me who wanted to doubt everything.

Clay watched me for a moment longer. Wet curls licked at the nape of his neck as he let the towel fall to the floor in his search for clothes. He pulled on a pair of loose cotton pants and shook out his wet hair, droplets flying everywhere as he slipped into bed beside me.

A tired giggle echoed from me as he buried his wet hair against the crook of my neck and his fingers traced over my stomach beneath the borrowed cotton shirt I wore.

“I missed that sound,” he hummed, kissing a warm line over my skin as I closed my eyes. “I missed you,” he said, before pulling the blankets over us and settling down. “Koen, don’t be a weirdo,” Clay laughed, uncurling himself and looking at the door. Koen tossed his baseball cap to the side and used the sleeve of his t-shirt to tug it over his head before climbing into bed on the other side of me. “I see you found a warm bed, Blossom,” he purred against my back.

“Wesley left, and I got cold.”

“His loss,” both chimed simultaneously.

How heartbroken you’ll be when they’re cold to the touch.

The house whispered to me, a chill rolling down my spine as I forced its haunting voice from my head and lost myself in the tangle of arms and cologne.