Wildflowers and Tattoos (The Crow: Bill Skarsgard)

Chapter 17

❀Lillie❀

I forgot.

As the week passes, following my return to the land of the living, mine and Erik's relationship evolves so quickly that I completely forget about Satan's warning.

I shouldn't have... but I did.

𓅩

"I think that I'm starting to see the comfort of the floor." Erik mumbles, his eyes closed, and body lying limp on the floor.

I chuckle, running my fingers through his dark hair.

"I'm still going to get you to sleep on a bed though. The floor may be comfortable for sitting and occasionally laying, but my mattress is much more comfortable for sleeping." He explains.

"Are you just trying to get me into your bed?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him, even if he can't see it.

Erik's pale cheeks turn a rosy pink, and he cracks one eye open to peek up at me. "What if I am?"

I smile down at him, despite my own burning face.

"Erik–"

"Patient: Lillian Steel, you have visitors." A voice announces throughout the building.

My eyebrows furrow, confusion coiling my muscles like an agitated rattlesnake.

"I thought that you were on your own?" Erik poses the words as a question, his own brows pinching together as he stands up. He offers me one of his hands and pulls me to my feet when I accept it.

"I am." I answer, anxiety now bubbling in my stomach.

Erik squeezes my hand briefly, before letting it fall back to my side. "I'll go check it out."

"Okay." I agree, following behind him, and halting in the doorway when he steps out. His legs carry him the few extra strides to the railing, allowing him to look out at the lobby and its contents. He observes the sea of bodies for a moment, before turning back to face me.

"They just look like lawyers to me." He shrugs, offering me his hand once again. "Come take a look."

I take tentative steps towards him, allowing my body to press into his side, and absorb the ease and comfort his warmth provides. My right hand entangles with Erik's provided one, and my left hand twists to clutch the railing with a white knuckled grip. I let my eyes drift over the sea of pink bodies, occasionally speckled with dark blue, the guards.

Almost immediately my attention snags on a tight cluster of people dressed in suits and pencil skirts. There are six people in total, with a guard from the facility leading them. There is only one woman in the group. Her long blonde hair is wrapped up in a neat bun, and her gray skirt and button down blouse give her an air of professionalism and authority. Directly behind her are two men. One is tall and lean, with a black baseball cap hiding his face from my view and small curls of light brown hair peeking from underneath. The other is almost as tall, but with broader shoulders, and an unhidden face. His dark eyes are scanning the building analytically, and his buzzed platinum hair, rolled up sleeves, and harsh gaze make him seem like the braun of the group. Behind those two are another two men. One is dark skinned, with a shining hairless head, and the other resembles how children might imagine Santa Claus. However his bulging muscles and scarred scowl would likely deter any children from sitting on his lap and making wishes for toys. All four of the men are clad in black suits. The group walk as if they own the place, and the moment after I see them dread settles in my stomach like an anchor.

Shit!

"Fuck!" I exclaim in a whisper, pushing myself behind Erik's body, effectively turning him into a human shield. My breaths shorten, and try as I might my lungs refuse to expand with enough oxygen.