“Someone was in the room when I woke up,” she told them, her voice barely a whisper but loud enough for both men to hear in the silent room. “He attacked. I escaped and got here.”
She saw Dante look all over her, his eyes flaring with rage and flickering up to Tristan, whose eyes she couldn’t see. It was either staring into his eyes or nuzzling into the warm, comfy spot in his neck. Right now, she chose the neck. Plus the way he was holding her felt really nice. Cozy, warm, snug, and safe, Morana suddenly felt her eyelids weighing down on her, her entire body feeling heavy.
She heard Dante say something in a low tone and Tristan's chest rumble but it all sounded muffled as Morana adjusted herself on him and settled in, closing her eyes, drifting to sleep, knowing nothing would be attacking her the next time she woke up.
It was a movement that woke her up.
Panicking, remembering the attack, thoughts of being trapped, held down against her will flooded her mind.
“Shh shh,” the soft whisper in the flavor of whiskey and sin poured over her, going into her ears, infusing in her blood, drifting to every part of her body, warming her from the inside out.
Her entire being relaxed. The other memories post-attack came to her then - the escape, Dante's house, Dante, Zia, and finally Tristan. She'd fallen asleep on him like the little koala she was becoming with him. She couldn't believe she actually fell asleep, not around him, but on him.
The movement continued.
Opening her eyes to see darkness all aroun
d her, Morana realized she was being carried by him, one of his hands under her knees, the other around her shoulders. Putting her arms around his neck, Morana tried to peer into the dark but couldn’t.
And even though she’d been attacked, despite all the night cloaking them, despite realizing that her assailant could be very near, Morana didn’t feel an ounce of her previous fear looking at the dark.
The man holding her was darkness. He was comfortable in the dark, one with the dark, owned the dark. And as long as he held her the way he did, safe in his arms, that dark was hers. It belonged to her. She was comfortable in it, safe in it, one with it. She didn’t know where he was taking her. She didn’t care. He could carry her to a cave for all she cared. After a life spent fighting for herself, after that night of struggling for survival, this was what she’d fought for, struggled for, lived for. This precious, silent, soft moment where, even on the darkest of nights, she wasn’t alone. She had made it to the shore on her own and he was carrying her from there.
She heard his heartbeat again - thump thump thump - inside his chest where her ear was pressed. It beat normally now, not the brutal pace it had been earlier.
The wind was cold on her bare arms and legs and a shiver went through her body. His arms pulled her closer to his body, heat radiating from his skin, and he continued to walk. Morana wanted to ask him questions but that would have meant breaking the silence, disturbing the sounds of his steady heartbeats and night creatures, and she didn’t want to do that. Even as muscles she didn’t know in her body ached and the shoulder pressed into his chest hurt and her thighs felt like they’d been split open, she was restful.
The glow of light made Morana turn her head and look towards the source. It came from a house.
His house.
Surprise hit her as she squinted at the light, making sure she wasn’t mistaking it for some other structure. Nope. The same lake, the same porch, the same chair she’d wanted to sit in.
He was taking her to his house.
Oh god.
Oh god.
She felt her heart start to pound again, a major freak out on its way to crash onto her.
Gulping, Morana opened her mouth to say something, this time not knowing whether her silence was because of the attack or the shock. She turned her head to look up at him, and after a few minutes, feeling her steady gaze, he looked down at her. His eyes, shadowed by the little light, locked with hers and Morana felt her fingers clench around his solid neck. She knew the questions were brimming in her eyes and she could see the answers in his.
They made it to the front of the lake - right where the other body had dropped, in fact - and then headed to his porch.
She had to say something.
“Are-”
Before she could get anything else out, he stopped in front of that very comfortable looking chair she had contemplated sitting in, and slid her down his body, right into the chair. Arms still around his neck, Morana looked up at the little light that poured from the inside the house, casting his face in shadows. She searched his blue eyes as he looked down into her face, his eyes floating up to her forehead before returning to hers.
He brought his hand up, stroking his thumb over her cheek once, before straightening.
Morana watched as he took out a key from his back pocket, pressed some codes on the alarm on the side, and opened the door. He looked at her, giving her a ‘stay here’ motion with his hand before going in. Morana felt her brows go up slightly at that. Somehow, she didn’t think it was to hide any dirty boxers or something from her. He didn’t seem like the type to have any kind of mess around him. No, from what she knew of him and what she’d glimpsed at in his penthouse, everything was in its place in his house. Simple things he could control.
The chair was very homely though. She had been right. And now that she was relaxed in the cushion, the ache in her tailbone piped up in queue with the others. Damn, she needed a good, long, hot bath.
Sighing, she looked out at the lake just as he returned.