Vik (Shot Callers 2)

My voice sounded hoarse. “I can’t remember.”

And then he was right there, lifting one foot, then the other, taking in the broken skin on the pad of my heel.

“When did this happen?”

It felt like I was stuck in a vacuum. His voice sounded so far away. “A few days ago.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

Was he angry at me? He sounded angry.

My voice was small. “I figured I lost that privilege.”

His face darkened. Opening a drawer to the left, he took out a pair of tweezers, rested my foot on his knee, and picked at the small, already closed wound. “You’re my family, Nas. You don’t get more privileged than that.”

A small pinch had my foot aching. He plucked something from my heel, lifted the tweezers, and set a small shard of blood-coated glass onto the countertop, then another. And when he was done, he scrutinized the area. “I think that’s all of it.” His heavy brow lowered as he settled his concerned stare on me, then he muttered a quiet, “What am I gonna do with you?”

If he figured it out, I hoped he’d let me know, because as defective as I felt right then, I was ready to dig myself a hole and await death.

Taking a small washcloth, he ran it under warm water, wrang it out, then proceeded to wipe away the sweat and tears dried into my cheeks. I closed my eyes as he cleansed my eyelids, my nose, my lips, my neck. And when he looked satisfied with his handywork, he threw the cloth into the sink and stood tall, peering at me with mild disquiet.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt hollow, like a tree that animals had made a home inside. However, demons rested in this hollow tree, their only job to tear me down from the inside out.

“C’mere,” my protector uttered, sweeping me up into his arms. I was too weak to protest, not that I was sure I would if I could.

Anxiety filled me as we entered my bedroom. I closed my eyes, not willing to look toward the bed. My heartbeat quickened, then slowed as Vik took me out of my room and said, “Hold on tight. It’s a lengthy fall down.”

Slowly but carefully, he walked me down the stairs and into the spare bedroom by the kitchen. He lowered my bottom to the bed, then went about sliding open the door of the closet, retrieving a pillow and spare blankets before setting up a pallet beside the bedframe. Confusion swept through me.

“What are you doing?” My voice didn’t sound like my own.

He punched the pillow a few times, allowing a straightforward, “Scaring away a ghost.”

And suddenly, I was coming back to myself, returning from the darkness. “You don’t have to do that.”

He spared me a glance before kicking off his shoes. “I know.”

I felt bad. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.” I ended on a laugh, but it was more embarrassed than humor-filled.

The thing was, when Vik decided he was going to do something, he did it. There was no arguing about it.

This man, the hero in my very own fairy tale, had come for me. He thought to slay my dragons. To rescue me. But I knew deep in my bones that there was only one thing that could save me. And it was the one thing Vik had never offered.

His heart.

Lifting the covers, he took my hand with patience and waited until my head hit the pillow before he pulled the comforter up to my neck. For a solid moment, he simply watched me, and when my lids grew heavy, he used the backs of his fingers to stroke my cheek tenderly before moving away.

And so, he settled in on his crude pallet, lying on his back with a folded arm under his head, and uttered a rough, “You are and always will be my first and only priority.”

My heart ached, because when he said things like that, it was easy to believe he loved me.

Luckily, I knew better.

With a full but heavy heart, my eyes drifted closed, and I floated away into a dreamless sleep.

Vik

I woke to the smell of coffee, a head on my chest, slender arms wrapped around me, and a leg firmly wedged between my own. And as I took it all in, I smiled to myself, because nothing had ever felt better.

Blinking down at the woman who felt the need to struggle in silence, I searched her sleeping face and breathed easy when I found zero sign of anguish.

Gently extracting her limbs from my own, I felt like the biggest asshole when my cock throbbed painfully. It wasn’t something I could help though. Nas just had that effect on me. She always did.

Knowing what plagued her, I felt comfortable to leave her to sleep on her own. Daylight was safer than the darkness, and in a few days, this would all be over.