Broken Songbird (Vicious Games #2)

18. Chapter 18

A rumble of male chatter pulls me from the mindless scroll on my phone. The brothers follow Creed from their meeting to the mystery box Two-Shot left at the end of the bar.

When Two-Shot stepped out of that room, he was so spooked that he looked ready to pass out. Before I could even offer help, he looked at me, immediately looked away, dropped the box on the bar and escaped outside. It was so weird.

Creed puts in a code on the lock and opens it, handing out phones to the men before they disperse.

Some of them grumble a quiet good night to me as they walk past me to the stairs, and others disappear outside or toward the other locked doors.

Creed crosses over to me and I uncurl from the couch, having already packed up my laptop. He takes the messenger bag and wraps my hand in his as he leads me up to the second floor.

When we get back to the familiar room at the end of the second hall, I’m expecting the room to be dark like last time, but it’s not.

A soft, warm glow emits from a lamp on the desk. I’m frozen in confusion, staring at it, as Creed crosses over and puts my bag next to it.

He turns and sees me looking at it. “The bathroom light is right in my face when the door’s cracked open, so I got Rita to get something else.”

“You…sleep with it on?”

“I do now,” he says casually, crossing to his dresser and opening a drawer like he didn’t render me completely speechless.

He got a lamp for me.

I stand there until I see him pull off his T-shirt and then I dart to my bags on the opposite side of the room and busy myself finding what I need.

He disappears into the bathroom for a short time, emerging in nothing but sweatpants as he crosses to the haphazardly made bed and sits on the side opposite the bathroom door.

I take my toiletries and pyjamas into the bathroom and lock myself in. I give myself a second to just breathe before going through my night routine. I wash my face, teeth, loosely plait my hair and then change.

Dressed in a loose T-shirt and sleep shorts that are a touch too tight since I’ve been hitting the gym, I now really wish I took that second to actually pick out what I bought with me. Stupid Enzo and his moods. I put my toiletries back in the bag and sit it neatly on the vanity, take another deep, calming breath and exit the bathroom with my clothes.

Creed is still sitting on the bed, facing away from me, so I dart to my bag to drop my clothes and then to the desk for my phone and charger from my other bag, before sliding in under the soft duvet all before he turns.

I’m trying not to pant as I look for a power socket between the bed and desk. I jump when a warm hand grips my elbows softly.

“Easy, princess,” Creed croons like he’s calming a skittish mare, releasing his hold.

I don’t even know why I’m so damn skittish. Probably because you got attacked almost twelve hours ago.

“Sorry,” I whisper and turn forward, avoiding looking at him directly.

“No need to apologise,” he says. He holds his palm out. “There are no plugs there. I’ll switch the lamp’s extension cord to a power board after we wake.”

“Thank you,” I say and place my phone and charger in his hand.

“We’ll get this fixed at some point when we’re not locked down,” he says, referring to the phone.

“No need. I’ll just order another one to Del and get it after.”

He makes an affirmative noise as he’s reaching down the side of the bed. His back muscles move and stretch, bringing the kraken and shipwreck tattoo to life. It’s a pity half of the kraken is covered.

I rip my eyes away, cheeks blazing. Stop thinking about his ass, Scar.

I purposely don’t look at Creed when he pulls up and stands, moving the duvet and getting into bed next to me. The bed is a queen-size, so we shouldn’t touch, but as Creed slides down, his size eats a lot of the space.

He turns to his side, facing me, and tucks an arm under his pillow. “You can change the dim on the light to whatever’s comfortable.”

I nod and turn to it, find the dial, bringing the light down to a low amber glow, and then slide down the bed to lie on my back.

“Are you comfortable?” Creed whispers.

“Yes.” No, not at all.

“Liar,” he purrs.

I roll my eyes and turn to my side, facing him, my preferred side. I pull my knees up, ignoring the fact that they are resting gently on his abs, move my plait out to lie in front of me, and slide my arm under the pillow.

His honey-brown eyes regard me as he smiles. “Better?”

“Yes.”

I let my eyes close, finding the feel of his diaphragm moving evenly as he breathes weirdly soothing.

Creed readjusts, his legs spreading out in the space mine have left, his torso pressing over my knees slightly. I open my eyes to see he’s twisted, so he’s almost laying on his front, pinning my knees between him and the mattress, and he has both arms under his pillow now. But he’s still watching me, the crease in his brow pensive.

“What?” I ask softly.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” he asks.

“Of course, I am.”

“You weren’t last time.”

“I…” Fuck. What do I even say to that?

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

“No,” I say immediately.

He nods and closes his eyes like that’s all he needed to hear.

I could leave it, but something in me wants him to understand.

“I…” I start again, trying to find the words. “I dreamt of Matteo after. A happy memory. And I felt so much loss in that moment, and then guilt, that I ran.”

Creed’s eyes slowly flutter open. “Did you love him?”

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t together.”

I sigh, the ever-present ache of Matteo’s absence thumping anew. “We never got that far.”

“Why?”

“When we were with each other, he was…intense. I won’t lie, I loved that. But then, when we would part, it was like coming up for air after being underwater for too long and then I’d question if everything happening between us was real or fabricated in my mind.”

“Would you be with him now if he wasn’t gone?”

I wince. “Probably.”

“What makes you feel guilty, then?”

“The thought that we might have been something , and knowing it wouldn’t have survived,” I confess. “Del was with Enzo, and the idea I would be with Matteo was ‘meant to be’. You know, best friends dating brothers. But I know… I know I wasn’t in love with Teo, but in love with the idea of us, and that makes me feel like shit because I feel like he left believing a lie.”

“But you did love him,” Creed states. “Still do. Maybe not the way you think you should, but there’s no lie there.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” I say, still not convinced.

Creed’s brow creases slightly. “As harsh as this sounds, you have to pull out of this perpetual cycle of guilt at some point.”

“I know,” I say dejected, looking down, absently playing with the end of my plait.

“I’ll be here when you do,” he declares.

My eyes flick up. He’s serious.

“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“You’re worth waiting for.”

I shake my head, bewildered. “I have little to offer.”

“I’ll take whatever you want to give,” he says with no hesitation.

“I’m fragments of a person.” I haven’t been a whole person since the first day my birth mum put me in that closet.

“I won’t accept you not being in my life,” he declares with such assurance. “Being mine.”

“What if I don’t want to be yours?”

He looks like he contemplates it for half a second. “I think you will be.”

“If I want to see other people?” I ask.

“I won’t stop you,” he says earnestly. “But they won’t breathe for very long after you’re done with them. Or before. Maybe they’ll suddenly ghost you.”

My breath hitches. Does he… “You mean literally.”

A wicked glint sparks in his honey-brown eyes as he smiles.

He doesn’t need to say it. He’s already proven that he has no qualms about permanently eliminating people for me.

I should be concerned, terrified, running the fuck out of here. But this is the same man who was able to coax me out from under that car. Who got a lamp just for me.

His fingers trail up my arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake, following the curve of my shoulder, continuing slowly over my collarbone. I have to fight the instinct to tilt my chin up and give him access to my throat. I could have been killed tonight, but I’d let Creed control my ability to breathe.

How the fuck did I go from revealing my inner thoughts to wanting to ride Creed until I pass out? Christ, I’m more damaged than I thought.

His fingers drop away from my flesh when they graze the hollow of my neck and return to under his pillow. “I’m going to make this crystal clear. This, us, will happen, so when you’re ready to gift me any of your shattered pieces, I’ll be here.”