“Sebastian?”
I lowered to my knees beside him, voice steady as I tried to lure him from the place his mind held him. I couldn’t be sure if he’d gone there on his own, escaping to a place that made it easier to bear the pain, or if he’d been thrust there forcibly and was struggling to find his way out.
“Hey, baby bird. It looks like your wings got a little messed up. Can I help you fix them?”
My nostrils flared against the scent of the room, a stale combination of blood and fear. Anger thrummed deep in my gut, echoing across my insides like a steady drum. I felt it escape me with every exhale, and for all the answers my mind demanded, tending to him was most important.
Fix his wings… and then destroy who broke them.
“Sebastian, sweetheart.” I stretched my hand outward, carefully grazing his shoulder with two fingers.
The moment we made contact, he screamed. His body surged forward, and his arms flew over his head protectively. He made a noise that suggested he was begging the world to stop hurting him. That simple, pleading sound felt like a splinter in my heart, tearing a hole straight down the middle. My chest bled but my voice remained steady.
“It’s just me, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I drew slow circles against his skin, reminding him what it felt like to be touched tenderly and without cruelty. “I missed you this morning. These sweet wings had a hard time flying, huh? Well, that’s just fine, baby bird, because I’ll always know where to find you.”
I pressed my palm between his shoulder blades. His muscles tensed before they relaxed and his inhale seemed to lift his whole body. My fingers danced across his hairline, capturing the curls between the pads of my fingers. Goosebumps rose across the base of his neck, and color blossomed, sweeping the pale skin.
Leaning forward, I pressed a firm kiss to that same spot.
A noise left him, and his head slowly rotated. He peered at me beneath the safety of his arms, the haze in his eyes clearing the longer he stared. His shoulders slumped forward, his arms falling to a heavy heap at his side. Cracked lips parted, and though he was soundless, I saw the word his brain tried to make.
Daddy…
“Hey, gorgeous.”
He blinked, and the numbness he was imprisoned in seemed to leave him all at once. Tears sailed over his eyelashes, pouring down his chapped cheeks. His chest collapsed, and he launched himself at me with a loud cry.
“You’re okay.” I whispered, palming the back of his head.
The tip of his nose was cold when he shoved it into the space between my shoulder and neck. Evidence of his anguish soaked the collar of my shirt as he cried. I was careful when I lifted him from the tub and sat with him in my lap—chest to chest. The tile floor we sat on was cold but he didn’t seem to notice as I rested my back against the wall and protectively draped my arms around him. My voice was a low, confident murmur as I rocked him back and forth, filling his mind with vows of safety and promises of love.
“Let me see that lip.”
He moved as though his limbs were brand new. It took him several seconds to peel his face from my neck.
My palm encased his cheek, and I held the weight of his head in my hand as I swept the tip of my thumb across the edge of his swollen lip. “Someone cracked your beak, baby bird.”
He made a weak sound.
“Don't you worry. Daddy is somewhat of a pro when it comes to tragedy.”
Bullets and bombs were pieces of me now, as vital to my life as bone and muscle. It wasn’t always that way. They often lay dormant somewhere in my chest, rising only when there was a war to be won.
With Sebastian, there would always be a war.
There would always be a pin to a pull or a gun to draw.
Protecting him was the only battle that mattered, and I intended to fight it for the rest of my life.
I fingered his bottom lip, and he chased the taste of my skin with vast, eager eyes. Sinking his teeth into the pad of my thumb, he sucked it into his mouth, humming. Smooth eyelids fluttered once before drifting closed. His hands were cold when he placed them on either side of my neck, stroking his fingers across my skin.
Pressing our foreheads together, I pulled my thumb from his mouth. The whine he made went straight to my cock, and I swallowed the sound with my lips.
Fuck.
He tasted like purpose—likelife.