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Oh, fuck me. It’s tea, not an atomic bomb.
I swallow the strange nerves and tread over to him; he tilts his head, glancing up at me.
“Tea for your thoughts?” I ask over the loud beat of my heart. I extend the extra mug. He has a tired look to his eyes, the sunken dents under his lids and light squint.
I don’t know why I feel bad. I don't understand why Ifeela lot of things. Only that I do, and I can’t help but sympathize.
My bottom finds the sofa momentarily, as if I’m not sure whether to sit down or just leave. But everything in my body is pushing for me to stay.
He raises a brow, peeking at me as his hand moves up to grab the cup.
“I’m not a tea drinker.” His fingers wrap around the mug, grazing fully over mine as he takes it from my grasp.
“Nobody is initially—until they try it.” I smirk, holding my mug with both hands. The warmth from it heats my palms.
He looks inside the mug as if it’s something supposed to come out and grab his face.
“Chamomile and ashwagandha. It’s safe to drink, and it’s not poisoned, scout’s honor.” I blow into the cup with a devious grin, the steam running off the rim.
He flicks his eyes toward me. “How can I trust it’s not?”
I shrug, sitting back an inch further for comfort. “I guess you’ll have to just trust me.”
Ronan hums with a slight nod. We both watch each other, slowly bringing the tea up to our lips. He takes a slurp, and I do the same, squinting over the edge as I sip. The warm liquid streams down my throat, hints of honey coating the walls, soothing the muscles instantly.
We lower the cups at the same time. I glance down at his throat, catching the bob in his Adam’s apple. I look back to see his reaction and as I do, his tongue swipes delicately over his lips.
I shift again, squeezing my thighs. “What do you think?”
“Not bad.” He sips again.
I contain the smile reaching to come out. “Good.” I drink again, watching as he repeats his movement.
I shift once more, ignoring the tingles shooting to my pussy. “See and look, you’re not dead.” I tease, grazing my fingers over the skull’s eye socket on my mug.
Ronan lowers his arm down to the armrest. “I live to see another day,” he murmurs, tipping his head back as he shuts his eyes.
A tightness forms in my throat, and my brows draw together with a slack to my shoulders. Seeing him this way, it’s off. I’ve become used to him being a certain way. Broad and strong, not racked with defeat. I can’t explain, but I want to do something weird like give him a hug and tell him it’ll all be okay.
After seeing that wall of creepy kidnapper routes, it flipped a switch in my head. I have never been this deep on the other side ofthisworld. I wasn’t clueless, but it was always left in the hands of GenCre?…?well, Ronan. So, to see the full picture of what happens and whattheysee. It’s really sickening.
When he walked off, deep in thought, his entire demeanor changed. I couldn’t help myself. One moment I was angry at him, and then the next moment, I wanted toconsolehim.
However, at this moment, I could leave. And not make it awkward for neither of us, but instead I lick over my lips, thumbing the skull. “Why did you create GenCre?”
He keeps his eyes closed. “Are we asking twenty-one questions?”
“Only one.”
“If you’re asking a question, then I should get one in return.” Ronan opens his eyes, tilts his head, and looks right at me.
I cross my legs, leaning back. “I guess we can work with that.”
“Alright.” He reaches over to place the cup down on the mini table beside the couch. Then he lets out a deeper breath. “I built this academy to give the survivors a safe haven. As a survivor, it’s difficult going back into the world after what happened to you. You don’t feel safe anymore. And everything that you did, all that you were accustomed to, every routine you’ve known, becomes nothing. You’re only floating, looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next attack.” He looks to the ceiling as he talks.
My head tilts, gazing at him while he speaks openly.
“In other words, this place is to give others another chance. Not the fuckers who kidnapped them. But to showtheman outlook. Your trauma doesn’t define you. You can build and grow from it—and become a beast in the process.” He emphasizes the last part.