Crux Untamed (Hades Hangmen 6)

I jumped forward, trying to get up the stairs to the front door. Fire lashed at my arms, scalding the skin.

“I can’t find a way in!” Aubin shouted . . . and then I heard it.

“VALAN!” I snapped my head back and looked up at the attic . . . and my whole world fractured apart . . .

I was ripped from the memory by a thumb on my cheek. I moved my eyes to Sia and saw her face was pale, distraught. Her eyes were bleeding tears. “Hush . . . baby . . . what is it?” Cowboy was sitting on the opposite chair now. He met my eyes and gave me an understanding smile. He knew what memory always came back to haunt me after these episodes. My brother had lived it with me. Been right by my side.

It’s why he’ll never let you go, a voice in my head told me. And I knew, no matter how much I pushed him away, he would never leave. We’d gone through too much.

“Darlin’?” I focused again on Sia’s sweet Texan voice. “Sleep. You look so tired.” Giving up the fight, I let her soft voice guide my eyes closed, feeling her hand on my cheek and her lips press again on my mouth.

And, giving me more peace than she would ever know, she took away that night from my head. Took away the sadness that consumed me as completely as those flames had consumed the brittle wooden house we once called home. And she soothed me to sleep.

Nightmare free.

For the first time in years.

Happily numb.

Chapter Seven

Sia

Hush’s breathing evened out, his beautiful face slackening slowly from the tension which had gripped him. He was asleep, but I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t stop touching him, making sure he rested. His cheek was still damp from the few tears that had fallen . . . tiny tears that, though shed in silence, had screamed his pain as loudly as a police siren on a still night.

Cowboy was silent behind me. He didn’t tell me to leave his friend alone or to let him sleep. He let me have this time. Touching the other man who had, like himself, completely captured my shredded heart. A man who had pushed me away, kept me at arm’s length . . . and now I knew why.

“Epilepsy?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Cowboy replied. My heart ached with sympathy for Hush. I pulled up the blanket over his wide chest. Blood still stained his mouth from the fight at the rodeo. When I looked at his face again, stroked the dusting of black stubble that decorated his chin, I heard that dickhead’s slurs as loudly as if he were in the room. Please tell me you no longer have anything to do with that fucking mongrel . . . half-breed . . . manipulative cunt . . .

“How could someone say such fucked-up things?” I felt a powerful wave of anger and intense sorrow that Hush could ever have those words aimed at him.

Cowboy was silent. I turned my head to look at him. I slid my hand into Hush’s though. I couldn’t seem to let him go. Cowboy was tense. His eyes lost to the fire. Without looking at me, he said, “Where we’re from . . . it’s a tiny little bumfuck town in Louisiana.” He sighed, jaw clenched. “You know the type. Don’t like anyone who don’t fit in. Good ole white, old-money kinda place. Until Hush’s mamma met his daddy. They moved away, knew they couldn’t stay in our town if they wanted to be together. But then, years later, they returned. With Hush . . .”

“And people weren’t happy.” I looked back at Hush, gripping his hand tighter.

“Yeah.” Cowboy went silent. He was watching me and Hush with a strange look in his eyes. He shook his head. “I ain’t saying anything more, cher.” He pointed to Hush. “It’s his story to tell . . . one he never ever talks about.” I got what he was saying. That I may never know. But I knew it was bad. That much I could tell.

“So he’s not just closed off because of the seizures?”

After a few thoughtful seconds, Cowboy said, “No.” I wondered if he hesitated because he didn’t want to betray his friend. Honor, I thought. Cowboy was an honorable man. I hadn’t met too many of them in my life.

“How often do they happen?” I asked, smiling fondly at Hush. His big body was relaxed in sleep. I couldn’t help but stare at our joined hands. His skin was beautiful. Its color a deep caramel. Tattoos covered his arms, but when I ran my hand over them, every so often I would feel roughness. In those places, the ink of the tattoos was patchy and faded. I found several similar patches on his arms. Then I froze . . . because, to me, they were more than familiar.

“Whenever he’s stressed, mainly.” Cowboy’s answer to my question ripped me from my thoughts. “If he gets angry too.” He glanced at Hush. “His leg bouncing is the first giveaway. It tells me he’s stressing out about something. He gets dizzy, and usually right before it happens, he gets a metallic taste on his tongue.”

My gut clenched. “He’s on medication?”

“What we get on the black market. He needs to be looked at properly, but he won’t because . . .” Cowboy stalled. He scooted to the edge of the couch and really looked at me. “The seizures get bad . . .” The vision of Hush hitting the floor and jerking, arms and legs thrashing, sprang into my mind. The nightmarish picture was enough to flood my eyes with tears again. “But it’s what those seizures represent to him, cher. That’s what has him so closed off. I ain’t saying what that is. I’m hoping, fucking praying, that he’ll tell you one day. The physical side of the seizures he can cope with. It’s the mental side that’s harder to handle.”

“And they’ll stop him from riding, won’t they?” I added, remembering there was some rule about Hangmen not riding if something was wrong with them, something that caused obvious health issues.

Cowboy shrugged. “I don’t personally think Styx will give two shits. Figure if you wanna take your life in your hands like that, then that’s your deal.”

My stomach rolled. “But Hush could be killed.”

“In this life, cher, we could be killed at any minute. You know we deal in some dark shit. But Hush, he’s got used to the signs.” He sighed. “So have I. It’s how we’ve lived so far without incident. He feels off, he don’t ride.”

“It’s why you haven’t moved onto the club’s land. Why y’all don’t live out there like the rest of them.”

“Yup.”

I found my fingers tracing a rough patch on Hush’s skin. “Cowboy . . . these patches on his arms . . . where the ink of the tattoos hasn’t taken well . . .”

“Are not my story to tell,” he said firmly. Cowboy sat back on the couch. “He’ll sleep for a while, cher. He needs to get his energy back. He needs to get his body warmed back up.” I knew I should move away from him. Let him sleep. But I couldn’t move. Seeing him like that on the floor, Cowboy jumping in and staying beside him until the seizure subsided, was the only thing that filled my head.

Leaning closer to Hush, I whispered, “You can trust me, baby. Please just let me in.” I laid my head back against the couch cushion and kept hold of his hand, kissing each finger in turn. I was determined to show him that he could let me in too.

He seemed so lonely . . . and so was I.

Maybe we could be a little less lonely together.

*****

The sound of murmuring voices pulled me from a deep sleep. I was too hot. I kicked my leg out from a blanket someone must have placed over me. I rolled over, realizing I was lying on a couch. When I opened my eyes, I saw Hush was awake on the other couch. Cowboy was sitting on the chair beside the fire.