Healing chains (rewriting)

Maniuplation: part 9 (nightmares/cuddles)

As Yaroslav stepped into the house, the sound of Thea's laughter filled the air. It rang through the hallways, sweet and light, a stark contrast to the violent images still playing in his mind. Only hours ago, his hands had been covered in another man's blood, his mind focused on making him suffer. But now, the sound of her joy pulled him back from that darkness, grounding him.

He paused for a moment, standing in the shadows, listening. He could hear the deep, unmistakable laughs of Dimitri, Ivan, and Nikolai echoing alongside hers. The thought of her, sprawled across the couch with his idiot friends, sent a strange pang through his chest. He should be there. He wanted to be there, by her side, claiming her attention.

But not like this. Not with blood on his clothes, the remnants of his other life still clinging to him.

With a low sigh, he made his way to his room, stripping off the bloodied suit. His fingers brushed against his collar, and for a moment, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't keep this part of himself hidden from her forever. Once she was his—once they were married—she would have to know, at least some of it. His jaw clenched at the thought of her turning away from him in disgust. No, he told himself firmly. She loves me. She will love me.

He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the blood, but the lingering thought of losing her gnawed at him, sparking an emotion he couldn't quite name. His fists clenched against the tiled wall. She would never leave him. She belonged to him, and he would make sure of it.

Yaroslav emerged from the shower, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair still damp. The thought of Thea, her infectious laugh, was a steady pull drawing him downstairs. But in the back of his mind, the anger still simmered—anger at the thought of losing her, of her slipping through his grasp. He needed to tell her the truth about his life, piece by piece, but not tonight. No, tonight he'd let her have this lightness.

He padded silently down the hallway, but as he approached the living room, the scene that unfolded before him stopped him in his tracks. Dimitri, Ivan, and Nikolai were sprawled across the couches, laughing like children, and there was Thea, sitting among them, holding a piece of dark chocolate in her delicate hands. Her laughter was like music, drawing his attention immediately. For a moment, Yaroslav felt an irrational spike of jealousy.

She should be laughing like that with me, not them.

Before he could make his presence known, Dimitri spotted him. Yaroslav could see the smirk forming on his friend's face, followed by the quick nudge to Thea. She turned her head, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

"Yaroslav!" she exclaimed, her face bright with joy.

But before he could take another step toward her, a cold splash of water hit him directly in the face. His body froze in shock as more water followed, soaking him from head to toe. Ivan, Nikolai, and Dimitri erupted into laughter, and Thea stood there, water gun in hand, her face a picture of pure mischief.

For a brief moment, rage surged through him—how dare they—but then he saw her. Thea was laughing, her eyes sparkling with delight, and all of his anger melted away. He let the water drip down his face, his expression neutral as she approached him with a grin.

"Gotcha!" she said, trying to hold back more laughter.

Yaroslav stared at her, feeling the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. His eyes darkened with a playful glint as he scanned the room. The water gun she held, the ones in the hands of his friends—so this is their game. He could feel the weight of his darker thoughts still pressing on him, but in this moment, they didn't matter. She was here. With him.