The Last One

eleven

♡ NSFW in this chapter is marked by asterisks. ♡

"Are you okay?" Sihtric stepped in front of me and took the tankards, one empty and one half empty, and tossed them away from us. They thudded against the side of the building as they rolled away.

"What the fuck?" I repeated. He pulled off his cloak and carefully wrapped it around me. He was careful not to touch me as he did so. I shivered as I gripped the cloak against my chest. "Why does that keep happening?"

Sihtric sighed and mumbled, "I guess you catch the eye."

My heart thudded against my ribs. I catch the eye? I shivered as I pulled his cloak more around myself. My breaths were still heavy from nerves, and my skin tingled against the cold of my shirt.

A group of people passed by a little too closely, and I stepped back. My mind was firing a thousand scenarios of someone else touching me, and it made my skin crawl. I kept backing away from the path to the Inn with each new person I saw. I started to hyperventilate, and then I stumbled as I backed into a bench and turned around quickly to make sure it wasn't a person.

"Red," Sihtric was next to me again, and he held out his hand towards me in concern but didn't dare touch me. His caution annoyed me. Where had it been the night we had kissed? Now he was seeing it, and he feared my reaction, or did he fear me? Or was it pity I saw floating in his expression?

Regardless, he was seeing my damage - more of my damage - and it only served to make me feel more pathetic. Tears stung at my eyes, and I felt like I couldn't breathe as emotion clawed its way up my throat

"Red," he pleaded, "let me get you out of here." He offered his hand again. I tried to focus. Despite the cool night air and my wet attire, I started to feel hot. My chest tightened with every shuddering breath I tried to take. I brought my hand up and put it in his. He squeezed it softly and pulled me away from the bench and towards the side of the Inn, down the alley and through a door.

It was a hallway where the rooms were. I tugged at the cloak around me as sweat started to bead on my neck, I had to get it off. He kept leading me down the hall and then opened a door to the right and pulled me in. I clawed at my chest, pulling the cloak free finally. I tried to take a deep breath, but there was a weight on my chest that prevented a full inhale.

"You are okay now." He sat me down on the bed and knelt in front of me. His hand was still in mine, and I realized it was probably because squeezing his hand in mine. "Red, look at me." I looked at him, but I couldn't see; not really. "You are okay." He repeated.

Tears spilled down my face and shocked me with how hot they were on my skin. "You are safe." He said as he brought the edge of the cloak up to my face and wiped my face of the tears and the ale. His eyes, they reminded me of that first night I stumbled into their camp. He had washed my face then, and now he was doing it again. I hadn't cried then, I was in shock. Now, I felt exposed, and I wanted to hide myself.

"Breathe," he said softly. His hand moved, and he was wiping off my arm, the one not incompacitated with squeezing the life out of his hand. His eyes never left mine. I took a breath as he commanded. "Breathe." He repeated as he wiped the fur side of the cloak over my skin. I took another breath. The fur scratched against my skin, but not in a bad way. It was comforting in a way as it grounded me to the moment, back to reality. I closed my eyes and took another breath.

I could feel myself again. One appendage at a time. First, the ache in my shoulder from the stab wound, the hand grasping onto his. Then my other arm, where he rubbed the fur across my skin. My legs were trembling, and the muscles felt tight. I tried to relax them with each breath I took.