Eau De Sang-- Emily Prentiss x Reader

chapter eight

[[buckle your seats, kiddos. things get a little spicy in this chapter. tw for blood, insignificant character death, and the use of "puppy" as a derogatory nickname.]]

"What do you mean he's here?" you asked, immediately jumping from the bed to start putting all of your clothes back on. The man who killed your mother, the man who was slaughtering innocent women was close by. You could feel the adrenaline and vengeance pulsing through your veins.

Emily was still sitting stock-still on the bed, feet now swung over the edge as she braced her hands on her knees. Her muscles were rigid and her skin pulled taut as she clenched her jaw and scrunched her eyes shut. Her breathing was even but only by force.

"We... We haven't been this close before. I can feel him, he has to be nearby," Emily said. Her voice was rigid and tense but you barely noticed in your haste.

"Okay, so we need to go! We need to get him before he hurts someone else!"

You were harshly pulling your hands through your hair, desperately trying to tame it into something more controllable. Emily, however, didn't move. She still sat on the side of the bed, hunched over her thighs and staring at the wall. You crossed the room to place a hand on her shoulder and shake gently.

"Em? What are you doing? We need to go!"

"No, we can't," she responded in a whisper.

You moved to stand in front of her, your knees touching hers as you're pressed against the wall.

"Yes, we can, and we will! Emily, what is the problem?"

For the first time, Emily moved, lifting her head so that she could look at you. Her skin was pale, paler than normal, having lost its rosy glow from feeding. Your stomach sank to your knees when you saw the look in Emily's eyes, a rare vulnerability shining through her lethargic, exhausted face.

It was terror, pure terror.

Within moments, Emily's gaze bore right through you, no longer focused on the present. You gently shuffled so that you could sit next to her on the bed.

"Honey, I'm going to touch your back," you said as moved with enough time for Emily to stop your hand from caressing the skin between her shoulder blades. With your other hand, you grabbed Emily's button-up from next to you on the bed and brought it to press against her chest. Emily curled both of her hands around the fabric and clutched it against her bare skin, her nails nearly puncturing holes.

When your hand made contact with Emily's skin, you felt as if you could feel what she was feeling. All of a sudden, anxiety clutched at your chest, dulled but present. Something began to crawl all over your skin and your brain was swirling with the haze of a memory that you knew couldn't have belonged to you.

"Breathe, baby. It's me. You're with me and you're safe. No one is hurting you."

A streak of warmth settled into Emily's skin as your hand moved from shoulder to shoulder, down her spine, and around her hip to pull her close. Her breathing started to calm, her frozen figure starting to move, pulling an arm through her shirt. You took the time to help her and murmur soothing affirmations in her ear.

"We can't, we can't fight him on our own," Emily finally said as you buttoned her last button and smoothed the sheet back over her lap. You took her cue that now wasn't the time to talk about what had just happened.

"Sure we can," you responded, pulling back so that you could face Emily, bringing your knee to rest on the bed between you two. Emily brought her hand to rest on the fabric of your slacks, conveying more than her words with the touch.