Their Wife

Thirty-Five

Ezra didn't look at me. He kept his eyes aimed straight as he carried me down the hallway. We didn't go far. Once we reached his bedroom door, he stopped and shifted me in his hold so he could open it. 

Walking in, he headed straight for the bed and gently lowered my stiff body onto it. His own body was stiff too, with anger. It showed in his movements and features and was as strong as it was when he barged into the other room earlier, worse even. 

Once he had placed me down, he backed away.

I slowly released a sigh of relief. Part of me feared that he would have escalated the already horrible situation I was experiencing by preying on me like his friends.

After all, I never thought Cassius would touch me inappropriately and it turned out I was wrong about that. Who knew what else I was wrong about?

He paced at the foot of the bed. Every so often he would run his fingers through his hair, pulling the soft, chocolate curls back. His lean body flexed with his movements. The muscles in his body that could be seen moving under his well-fitted clothing were taut with stress. His stride was long and steady. He continued back and forth, seemingly trying to shake off the anger that lit up his eyes with his pace. Once he had paced for a few moments, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat, enough to get his hands to stop shaking. Coming to a stop, he turned to face me.

His eyes scanned over me closely. It was like I could feel them caressing my skin that had gone clammy with shock. I could still see hints of strain in the occasional twitch of a muscle in his expression, showing just how outraged he was at the situation he walked in on. 

Was he angry at me? Did he think that I cheated on him, betrayed him? Did he blame me? His strong reaction had terrified me and my thoughts only worked to make my fear grow greater. 

I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them like the action could protect me from anything he could throw my way.

Ezra's lips flattened and his fingers curled into fists. "What do you need?" he asked after a moment of contemplation.

I looked up at him through my lashes, once again surprised by the words that left his lips. Maybe I'd make it one day to a day where kind, considerate words did not shock me. 

What did I want?

To be left alone.

I just wanted a moment without fear, a moment where I could just exist and breathe.

No fear. No pain. No one else.

Just me.

A moment where I could forget.

But I couldn't tell him that. 

He didn't want to hear anything that I actually wanted. No, he wanted to hear an answer that he could help with to make himself feel better.

So I gave him an answer that would help us both.

"Water." I grimaced. My voice was thick from holding back tears. I hadn't noticed the pressure behind my eyes or the slight burn in the back of my throat until now.

He nodded his head a few times as he once more ran his hand through his hair. For a moment he seemed lost. He was not ready for an answer to his question. He glanced around the room seeming to search for the next step he needed to take. He found it when his eyes locked onto the door. 

"Okay," he said as he started walking towards it. Grabbing the knob, he pulled it open before turning to face me again. "I'll get you some from the kitchen. The good stuff." He turned around to leave, but stopped again and turned to face me once more. "Lock the door behind me," he said. "Don't answer it for anyone but me."