Page 125 of Mantle

The scene tugged at my heart something fierce.

He looked so… different.

So content.

So happy.

So giddy.

“It’s so warm,” he uttered with childlike wonder.

Holy… damn. It was amazing.

“I’m glad,” I said, coming to stand before him.

That brightness in his eyes flickered unstably.

It didn’t take much for me to realize why.

It was me standing over him, the accidental dominance of the position.

He tensed, like he was expecting hurt to quickly follow.

I quickly lowered myself to a crouch in front of him. “It’s me,” I reminded him, hoping he’d recognize the distinction.

It took him a moment, indicating how deeply entrenched Corvin’s abuse was, that he’d moved to a trauma response immediately from just a stance.

But then he brightened again and nodded. “Nyx.”

“That’s right.”

“I know you. Do you… are you still asleep?”

“Several of my memories of that time have been awakened.”

His brows knit. “Do you hurt now?”

“It ebbs and flows.”

He stared down at his hands still clutching sand. “I don’t like hurt.”

“Me neither.”

“I hurt… those Guardians… that building… an important building.”

“You didn’t do anything. Corvin confiscated your free will. You weren’t in control.”

“A leash… that’s what he called it?”

“Exactly.”

“I did those things but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I didn’t like it.”

“I know. You don’t like hurt. I not only believe you, I understand that about you, and I can sense it very strongly. Ariana can as well.”

His head jerked up. “Is she hurt?”

“No. She’s well.”

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