Revelation (The Protectors 7)

So much for being strong for once in your life.

I wanted to cry at the self-inflicted jab, but I was still too dizzy to do anything but hang there, puke in my lap and God only knew where else, light seeping through my painfully dry eyes and the manacles on my wrists.

“Ethan,” I heard Lucy whisper. I wanted to tell her to run again, but I didn’t even have enough energy to open my mouth, let alone try to form words.

“Lucy, get him some water.”

Awareness returned as the heavy timbre of a voice I didn’t recognize seeped into my brain.

“Ethan, just take deep breaths.”

I did as the voice told me and then I focused on the hands that were still holding my wrists. They were warm and calloused, but they weren’t…hurting me.

Other things started to slowly come into focus for me even though I hadn’t managed to open my eyes again. It wasn’t the hardness of a floor beneath me, but the softness of a mattress…much softer than the mattress from the house Lucy and I had spent the last month in. The scent of mildew wasn’t heavy in the air and there was no bitterly cold breeze washing over me from the gaps between the windows and their frames.

Confusion settled over me as I tried to process everything. I hurt like I usually did after one of Eric’s “lessons”, but why was I still even upright after throwing up on him?

Maybe I hadn’t puked?

My eyes focused enough to see that I had, in fact, retched all over myself and the blanket that was half-on, half-off my lap.

My naked lap.

What the hell?

“Ethan, take another breath.”

I forced my gaze up and instantly met icy blue eyes that didn’t look as hard and unforgiving as I suspected they could have.

Cain.

Awareness returned in waves as I realized where I was.

“Lucy,” I whispered, pleased that at least this time I could get the words out, though my voice sounded like I still had Eric’s hands wrapped around my throat.

“I’m here,” Lucy said in a rush as she returned to the room, a glass of water in hand. Cain released one of my wrists long enough to cover my lower half completely and, despite the fact that it caused some of the spit I’d puked up to drip over my skin, I was grateful. “Here,” she said as she handed me the glass. Her face was flushed and I could see she’d been crying recently because her eyelashes were wet.

“Are you okay?” I managed to ask her after taking a sip of the cold water. I was sure nothing had ever tasted so good before.

“Am I…” Lucy said, her voice choked. “I’m okay,” she managed to get out with a vigorous nod. She dashed at her eyes again.

“Lucy, can you go make Ethan some soup? There was some chicken noodle in the pantry…strain out everything so there’s just the broth.”

I was dimly aware that Cain still had ahold of one of my wrists. I should have pulled free of him, but I didn’t.

I didn’t ask myself why I didn’t.

Lucy nodded and then she leaned down to wrap her arms around me. She didn’t say anything and her hold was incredibly gentle which was odd for her because she’d always been big on hugs.

Bone-crushing, all-in hugs.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said.

The fog was finally starting to recede and I watched as she left the room, looking back at me every couple feet as if to make sure I was still there.

“Ethan,” Cain said quietly and I forced myself to look at him.

“What happened?” I murmured as I took in the tangled bedding at my waist. There were a couple of pillows tossed recklessly on the other side of the bed and even one on the floor.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said. He finally let go of my other wrist and I cursed the fact that I missed his touch.

He started to pull the blanket from my lap, but I latched on to his arm to stop him. The second I did, his whole body went tight and all the warmth I’d seen in his eyes fled. As badly as I wanted him to not move that blanket, my self-preservation instincts kicked in at the hard look in his eyes as they met mine and I jerked my hand from his arm.

I’d just made a terrible mistake and it was going to cost me. I knew it just by looking at him.

But he didn’t lash out at me. There was no punch to the face, no grabbing of my chin and squeezing it until my eyes bled with uncontrollable tears. He didn’t do anything at all. He just sat there, coiled tight like a snake about to strike.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” he finally said, his voice sounding tense, but not angry. His hand was still on the blanket, but he didn’t move it.