Page 51 of Ruin Me Knot
"It’s called a fast metabolism," I say.
"It’s either a fast metabolism or you have worms." Then to Leah, Jax adds, "Gabe isn’t joking. I don’t know how our prime isn’t the size of a bus with the amount of food he stuffs in his mouth."
"Don’t look like that, Ronan. If only one of us noticed, it might not be true. But since we all agree, my friend, you have a stomach that should have its own postcode," Gabe says.
Leah’s jaw eases as she tracks the rhythm between us. I’m glad Gabriel’s tactic has always been to talk, stitching fragments of normalcy into wounded spaces to heal them, and Jax has never missed a beat in return.
She studies them while they mock-bicker before finally drawing up a bit of lasagna for the smallest bite. The taste registers, her eyes widen, and she puts her fingers over her mouth as she quickly chews and swallows. She takes a second bite, and my muscles uncoil, the tension in my shoulders easing a little.
I set into my own food, able to eat because she is. Gabriel keeps talking, regaling her with ridiculous stories about us. Jax slides a glass of orange juice closer to coax her to drink. She keeps glancing at us all as she eats, as if measuring whether the moment will last, or one of us will take away her meal.
She’ll never starve again. We’ll give her the food off our plates to ensure that, but now is not the time to tell her. We must keep things light, so she’ll continue eating. She’s clearly struggling but if she can eat, rest and sleep, it will go a long way to help her get back to a normal she never realized she could have.
She is precious, delicate and astonishing, more than anything I deserve. The urge to destroy those who broke her open throbs in my teeth and bones, but Istay anchored in my seat. Here, now, what matters is Leah. How Gabriel steals her attention with his bad impressions and how Jax orchestrates the meal to ensure she always has food within reach.
Leah sets down her fork, leaving more than half of the slice I gave her. Her hand lingers a moment longer then falls away. She drifts back into herself, shrinking inward. Her shoulders round and her chin tucks. She’s trying to make herself invisible, mentally slipping away as she no doubt plots how she can make herself physically disappear.
Gabriel notices the shift too. He stretches his arms overhead, feigning a comfortable sprawl, pitching his voice into airy cheer. "How about we end my fantastic cooking with a movie night? You should know I have immaculate taste in movies as well as food, Leah. No one’s ever survived one of my movie nights without quoting ‘Cyborg Ninjas from the Future’ for at least a week."
A shutter falls hard and fast over her face, leaving cold, hard eyes. She pushes her chair back, the legs scraping against the cold tile, and stands. She tightens her grip around the backrest as if she needs something solid to tether against.
"I don’t… I don’t want to watch a movie." The words fall sharp and abrupt. She doesn’t look at any of us directly, just sets her gaze in the middle of the table while she barely hangs on by a thread.
I keep my voice low and smooth. "Is there anything else you’d like to do, Leah?"
A storm of anger and confusion twists in her eyes, darkening the gray. "Is there anything I’d like to do? Is that what you’re asking me?" Her chest lifts with shallow breaths as her grip tightens on the chair. "I don’t know how to answer that. You want to know why?" Her words stagger out, coated in defiance. "I can tell you stories about what I used to do, but none of it means anything now. Not after…"Her jaw snaps shut, a muscle ticking in her cheek. "I… I don’t even care about what I’d like to do. I just wish you’d stop asking me things. What I like. What I don’t. I can’t answer you because I don’t know. While you’ve been out in the world living your life, I haven’t. While the world went on, I rotted in a cell." She swallows and her next words are a dull, shaking whisper. "If you want to know whatyou can do for me, then cut out the Omega in me. Open me up and take her out. I swear I won’t even utter a sound. If you can’t do that, then leave me alone."
She stumbles away from the table. The chair tilts where she’s still clutched the back and I watch her force herself to release her grip. Jax half rises, body taut, hands braced on the table but not daring to move toward her. We all freeze as she navigates the space between kitchen and living room as if every square foot burns. I’m sure she feels it that way.
There’s such fury stitched into every movement it’s hard to watch. For a second, she hesitates on the edge of the room. She rubs her temple with shaking fingers, then she shakes her head as if refusing an order only she can hear.
The chemical sting grows stronger. The sharp bitter haze stings my throat as she makes her way into the living area. I want her to go to her nest, to let herself have the small comfort she’s scrabbled together out of towels and throw cushions, but she only skirts the edges, treating the couch like a live wire. Her steps are clumsy as she finds the armchair and struggles to tug it to the corner of the room before wrenching it to face away from us. She ducks into the seat and disappears behind the back, but I catch her reflection in the dark window as she wipes away a stray tear and clenches her too-thin arms around her waist.
Her head jerks up, her body taut as every muscle locks. Her spine snaps straight as her hands brace against the chair arms. Then she’s up, launched out of the seat. She slaps her palms against the cold windowpane, fingers splayed, breath fogging the glass. A strangled whine escaped her lips.
I’m at her side in three long, ground-eating strides, barely registering the scrape of Jax’s chair behind me, Gabriel’s footsteps close behind. My mouth dries at the sour, metallic reek of her fear. Each breath, each heartbeat, is tuned to her. On guard for what waits in the dark she knows.
"What is it, Leah? What are you looking at?" I edge beside her.
She jerks away from me and panic blazes in her eyes. Between the chemical taint and bitter fear, there’s nothing of her sweet perfume left. She’s so Godsdamned scared all I want to do is gather her in my arms and tell her everything will be allright, but that would be a lie, and I won’t have her sensing the lie in me. Not while she’s in this downward spiral.
"It’s—I thought—" She swallows, voice frayed at the edges. She clasps her arms around herself once again, but she’s shaking so hard she grips her elbows. "In the street lamp. I thought I saw someone I knew, but…" Her voice fades. She glances out the window again. "He was too big. It couldn’t have been him."
"I’ll check it out." Jax is out the door before Leah even blinks. The sound of the lock disengaging barely fades before she turns toward us, like she can’t quite believe what’s just happened.
"You… you believe me?" she whispers.
"Of course we do, Leah. Whatever you saw out there, Jax will check it out. If it’s nothing, so be it. If it’s something, we’ll know," Gabe says.
There’s no color in her skin. Even her lips are bloodless as she drifts back to the window looking down at the empty street below. A tremor works through her body as her eyes dart to every shadow.She’s terrified.
"Who did you see, Leah?" I ask, but she doesn’t answer. I don’t even think she hears me. Her breaths come in short, sharp bursts and mist fans out from her hands where they’re flat on the glass.
Whatever she saw, or thought she saw, cut through her spiral in a way nothing else tonight has managed, and that worries me more than anything. It was big and real enough to startle her out of her trauma response, and I only hope she hasn’t fallen into the dark so far she’ll never find her way back.
A distressed sound wrenches from her throat. Her arms clamp around her middle, and she doubles over, knees giving out. I catch her before she falls to the floor. Bitter chemical notes taint her pure honeyed scent, and the fever of her skin burns through her clothing.
I’m instantly, brutally hard. My Alpha instincts surge with the bone-deep urge to answer her need. I grit my teeth, fighting to keep my touch gentle where I hold her. Her head snaps back, pupils swallowing the gray as she tries to pull away from me. A wordless sound somewhere between a whimper of arousal and distress falls from her.
