Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Thirty Three

A tantalizing scent met her nose, almost lethargic as she absentmindedly inhaled. Her mind felt numb for a moment and she nuzzled her head further into the mattress, it was soft and warm, but oddly hard.

Slowly blinking her eyes open, Delilah came to realize she was wrapped around Tom. His breathing was steady, the rise of his chest every few moments in a rhythm put her at ease. She could feel more than hear his heart beat as her head laid against his midsection. Her arm was draped over him and Delilah became acutely aware of the fact that her leg was wedged between his.

She didn't make an effort to move.

He was leaned up against the headboard, bathed in soft orange light from the candle. One hand held a worn leather bound book, his other was running a single finger along the nape of her neck.

Delilah eyed the cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke billowing in swirls. Tom pulled the joint from his lips and tapped it on an ashtray next to the bed, she watched as the ash crumbled softly.

"Why do you smoke?"

His gaze remained on the words, from her angle she couldn't see what exactly he was reading but the pages were yellowed with age. "Helps with nerves." Tom replied flatly. Her lips quirked upwards slightly as she leaned her chin on his abdomen, tracing a nail along one of the many scars that littered his skin. "Do I make you nervous?" The question was a simple tease and rather just a jab, but the way his eyes slowly raked along her body made her smile drop, she shivered.

"In that night gown you do."

In a weak attempt to hide her blush, Delilah looked towards the window and saw it was still dark out. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning."

Her brows raised slightly as she sat up, "why are you awake?" Chills ravished her skin as he placed a hand on her leg, rubbing his thumb back and forth on the inside of her thigh.

"In an hour or so we need to get everyone up, we're heading back into the collection today. I'd prefer we do it early."

"But we don't know where the other entrance is."

"Which is why we're going through the front, it'll be easier to find it inside."

Delilah paled as she recalled the nightmare like scenario she had to go through the first time, "but the defenses set up, the cave, I..."

Sighing, Tom stubbed out the cigarette and rested the book against his chest. "We need to get in."

"Do I have to go? Can't I just, I don't know, stand watch outside?"

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating his words and he squeezed her thigh slightly. Tom's lips quirked a bit as he watched her breath hitch. "I need you there with me. It called to you, and you're the only one who can open the door."

Slumping against him, Delilah observed their reflection in the mirror across from the bed. It was odd, they looked so normal. Just a boy and a girl, wrapped up in each other on a plush mattress.

"I can't handle seeing Harrison again, not like that."

"It's not real. It's a defense mechanism that latches onto ones psyche, making their worst fears, memories, nightmares, et cetera appear in front of them. It's very effective, but now that you know it's not real, it'll be easier."

Delilah tried to feel at ease with his words, but panic was still shooting through her. The image of her brother may not be real, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Tom tapped a finger below her chin, his dark brown eyes latching onto hers, giving her a wordless promise that she'd be okay.

Reluctantly, she agreed.