Hope(less)

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

An hour later, the full light of a new day-Wednesday morning, the beginning of Thanksgiving break-lit my room.

Clay, still bloody from the fight, stood with the officers to show them out. They had his written statement and my phone number, since I didn't plan to stay in the house for a few nights. I'd decided we'd go to the Compound a day early. I'd waited long enough. I had too many questions to answer on my own, and a certain Elder waited for me there. I needed to talk to him.

The police believed we'd experienced a simple break in. Their deduction suited me fine. I could just imagine the line of questioning I would have endured if I'd mentioned the men had broken in to kidnap me. After seeing the second man, I had no doubt that had been their intent.

The front door closed, and I listened to Clay walk through the house and close himself in the bathroom. He needed to wash the dried blood from his face. It had served its purpose and hidden his noticeably advanced healing from the police.

Flipping back the covers, I got out of bed and started to dress. The dizziness and headache that had returned when I fell off the bed had faded while they questioned me.

I finished dressing, grabbed my messenger bag, and began to cram clothes in it. My mind wasn't on packing so I didn't treat it anymore gently than Clay or Luke had when they had packed it. How had I felt anything for that man on the floor? It shouldn't have been possible. Agitation burrowed deep. When I turned toward the door and saw Clay watching me, I dropped my gaze to the floor unable to meet his calm regard. He sighed, stepped aside, and motioned for me to lead.

In the kitchen, Clay had my jacket and shoes waiting. I slipped them on, remembering at the last minute to call Rachel to let her know what happened. Thankfully, she hadn't been home. She promised only to come back home with Peter, just to be safe.

Clay didn't say anything as we got into the car, which was normal, but I sensed his extreme tension. My stomach churned with guilt. However, I didn't know what to say, so I closed my eyes and tried to nap. Still needing to regain my strength, sleep wasn't too hard to come by.

Several times, I woke to the sound of him tapping his grey nails against the steering wheel. When I opened my eyes to look at him, I could see his elongated canines. At those times, I wanted to reach over and pat his leg, but I held myself back.

When I woke to see his ears pointed too, I quietly studied him for a few minutes. I knew I was the cause of his agitation. He'd sensed my withdrawal. I hadn't wanted him to see my confusion. I wanted to talk to Sam first, before saying anything to Clay. But my approach obviously wasn't the right one. Clay had stuck by me through everything. I needed to trust that he wouldn't turn away from me after I revealed what happened.

"Clay..."

He paused his tapping.

"Could you pull over for a minute?"

He glanced at me, lifted a concerned brow, but did as I asked. The tires crunched on the snowy shoulder. He stopped the car then turned toward me.

A sad smile lifted my lips. I hated to see him like this. I tapped my lips. I needed affirmation that we still had our connection, and he needed assurance I was fine.

His tight grip on the steering wheel loosened, and he shook his head in amusement. I held my breath as he leaned toward me.

Clay cradled my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly. I clutched his shirt, dragging him closer. When he opened his mouth to nip my bottom lip, I groaned and willingly let him in. We steamed the windows. My lungs burned for air. Finally, I had to pull away to catch my breath. He wrapped his arms around me and placed small gentle kisses on the top of my head.