Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
My head shakes. “I don’t believe you’re broken beyond repair. Pieces of you may be broken, but they can be mended. I know they can. You have a good heart, Caz, whether you see it or not.”
“I’ve hurt and killed so many people because of my rage—because of this anger he poured inside me. He shoved it all down my throat and forced me to digest it, and now I’m this fucked up man who hates everyone and everything, and I can’t even enjoy life because I’m so angry and bitter all the time!” His blue eyes glisten as they bore into mine. “How can you still want me after all you’ve seen? After all I’ve done? Because you don’t even know the half, Willow. I’ve done so many bad things. Some of it still gives me nightmares.”
He’s shaking now, and I don’t know what to say to that as I look into his teary eyes. I wish I had the words, but I don’t, so I pull him in and hug him tight instead. I hug him until his body stops shaking and the tension melts just a little.
“I’m bound to you, Caz. And if that means I have to share your pain and help you forgive yourself, so be it. I will.” I lean back to place a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll help you heal. We’ll help each other heal.”
The pain washes over him like a tidal wave. I feel it riding through me, sinking into each organ, nerve, and strand of us. It’s astounding that I can still feel his sorrow while on Earth. Makes me think this Tether is so much bigger than anything we’ve ever imagined.
The grief in his crystal eyes lingers, and I’m not sure what else to say to make him feel better or to bring him out of this darkness that has consumed him, so I lead the way back to the bed.
He spoons me from behind, cradling me in his arms. His warm lips press to the top of my shoulder before skimming up to the bend of my neck, and we remain like this. Quiet thoughts in close proximity.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you,” he whispers on my ear. “You’re the greatest thing I’ve had in a very long time, Willow.” His arms tighten around me, like he never wants to let go, and I release a satisfied sigh, placing my hand on top of his and closing my eyes.
Chapter 17
WILLOW
I find it hard to sleep after hearing about Magnus. It sucks that a name has been attached to that monster. That man wasn’t a father. He was an abuser who got what he deserved from The Council. I’m actually thankful that they got Caz out of that situation, and glad they fulfilled some kind of purpose.
After telling that story about his biological father, Caz sleeps soundlessly next to me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep, but we’re on Earth, where there are no red or black tablets to swallow to fight it. It’s as if rehashing those awful memories and talking about them lifted some of the weight on his shoulders.
With all this talk about family, I’m left wondering about my own. I feel like I’m further away from figuring out where Warren is. Is he still alive? Has Decius gotten to him? God, I hope not. I miss my brother and I swear after we figure out how to deal with Decius, I’m going to find out where Warren is…dead or alive..
I let the thoughts of my brother drift for now and sit up with my knees to my chest, watching as Caz rests on his back, one hand on his bare chest, the other tucked behind his head. He breathes evenly, and I can’t help thinking how beautiful he is. His lips are full and pouty, the sharp angles of his face and nose god-like. His dark lashes caress his upper cheekbone like gentle raven feathers. I see why his mother called him her raven-haired boy.
My eyes fall to his upper body, and I study the scars on his chest. They’re all over him, marks from men who tormented and abused him. It’s no wonder he’s the way that he is. He was taken from his mother and forced into a life he never wanted. I sense he was a carefree child at one point, happy and full of wonder and light, and then it was all snatched away. He was tossed into darkness, left with no option but to drown in it, or in his case, learn to swim the treacherous waters in order to survive. That’s my Caz. A survivor.
I drop my legs and trace the pads of my fingers over his scars. I start at the top of his chest, near his collarbone. This scar is jagged and raised, like a knife wound. I rub it gently, as if that’ll take away whatever pain he endured, then carry my fingers down to the center of his chest. There’s a large wound here, round and slightly raised, probably from a bullet. I don’t know why I have the urge to kiss it, but I lean forward, placing my lips on it. Then I move to the next scar, right above his ribcage.