Page 36 of Hysteria Rises (Dark Falls Hollow #1)

TWENTY-FIVE

ARROW

Searing pain blazes across every stripe taken out of my skin.

In a semiconscious state, I moan as I try to shift in the bed.

Any rest I’m getting at all is fitful and uncomfortable.

I never sleep on my stomach, but I fucking have to until I heal.

As it is, every movement stretches and pulls at the open wounds.

Cross says it’ll be days more of this agony.

There’s simply no end in sight, as far as I’m concerned.

I can’t sleep for shit, not that I ever can, and I also haven’t been able to visit my siren.

I’m in a bad way, wondering how she’s handled all of this, everything from waking up with my cock inside her to thinking she was being given the right to leave to being caught and trapped in that hellish punishment with me.

I feel like shit. Every moment of what Twenty-three endured is a direct result of my unhinged actions, the deep-seated need I have to be near her, and my uncontrollable lust.

Barely audible whispering from the next bed over—Cross’s bunk—catches my attention, but my head is turned the other direction, and I’m not inclined to move an inch yet. I glance at the clock on my bedside table, noting that it’s just after midnight.

“This is ugly, the way he’s suffering. You’re sure there’s no way to access Nolan’s locked medicine cabinet?” It’s Hayze, who must be right between my bed and Cross’s.

I heave out a sigh and with effort swivel my head to face them. “I can hear you. I’m fine.”

A moment later, Cross’s hazel eyes focus on me in the dark as he mutters, “You haven’t let me have a look since yesterday.” His lips pinch together in disapproval.

That’s because it hurts like mad every time I allow it. Not that he’s doing anything wrong. It’s simply that bad, and there’s nothing to be done but let it heal. “I need—” Clenching my jaw tight, I shake my head. It’s too much to ask.

“Tell me. I’ll do my best to help.” Hayze blows out a hard breath as he reaches out, lightly grasping my forearm and squeezing. “Anything.”

I grimace, knowing full well the beating Hayze is doling out for himself is way worse than the correction he was forced to administer.

“You don’t have to. I already said I don’t blame you.

There wasn’t anything you could have done differently.

You were acting in your father’s place at the demand of the remaining members of the Collective.

That’s what’s expected of you. Finneas wouldn’t have hesitated, so you couldn’t either. ”

“He’s not wrong,” Cross murmurs quietly as he studies Hayze. “Arrow wasn’t the first to take lashes and won’t be the last, I’m certain.”

Hayze peers at both of us as he scrubs a pair of tattooed hands through his hair.

After several moments of what appears to be some really fucking intense internal reflection, he finally acknowledges the truth of what we’ve been trying to impress on him since the punishment was meted out in the first place.

“You might be right. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.

If my father had decided he didn’t think it was merited, he would have called a halt to it. ”

Cross throws his hands up, whispering, “But the reality is that you are not yet one of the Collective. You are simply the one who will one day lead. Don’t be fooled. They’re including you right now so they still appear four-strong.”

I’ve been thinking about this ever since it happened—in the brief time periods when I wasn’t overwhelmed with simply trying to make it through another minute.

But now, full awareness creeps in, no less painful than the whip to my back.

My chest tightens. “They used you, Hayze. And my father allowed it to happen to both of us.”

“Mine is no better,” Cross mumbles. “You’d think a fucking medical doctor would have had something to say.”

On the other side of Cross’s bed, Malakai’s mattress squeaks with his movement.

I hadn’t even realized he was there, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have said anything if I knew he was listening to our conversation.

I peer over at him, only to find him leaning forward with his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what to fucking say about all that, but you fuckers are going to wake everyone else up. ”

Taking care not to move too quickly, I push myself to a kneeling position, sucking in an agonized breath as I do.

For the first time in days, Malakai’s deep, dark eyes find mine.

We stare silently at each other for several seconds before I murmur, “You don’t have to know what to say.

” I don’t claim to understand what’s in his head.

I never have. He runs way too often with Dragan and Gannon to be trusted, and being Kiefer’s son makes all my misgivings about him increase tenfold.

Yet … I don’t know. He throws off some weird energy sometimes.

Studying him, I’m sure of it—there’s something there, something he wants to say, but he’s holding back.

Shaking his head, he stands up. “Cross, you may as well show them.”

My eyes flick to Hayze’s, then Cross’s. Hayze doesn’t seem to know what’s up, but I can tell by the sudden clenching of teeth that my hazel-eyed friend sure as fuck knows what Mal is referring to.

I find that very odd, but I lift my brows, since I can do that without pain.

It’s about the only part of my body I can move with no repercussions.

“You go ahead. I set it there,” Malakai grinds out, pointing to something at Cross’s bedside.

Cross quietly clears his throat, then leans down and snatches up whatever it is and holds it out for me to see.

“What the fuck?” Hayze mutters. “Is that what I think it is?”

Cross holds a finger to his lips, gaze flicking for a second toward the four beds across the room. “Well, our buddy here”—he glances at Malakai, dropping his voice as he finishes—“knew of a stash of alcohol.”

He hands the bottle to Hayze, who squints in the dark, his eyes roaming over the label. His lips move, but he says nothing. I glance at him, curious, but then he mumbles, “It’s too fucking dark in here to read. What kind is it?”

“It’s Kentucky bourbon.” A low rumble of a laugh spills from Cross. “Pretty potent, too, if I read the label right. It’s a hundred proof.”

“That’s good stuff, then.” I catch my lip between my teeth. I want to snatch it out of his hands and pour it down my throat to drown the pain, drown every disturbing dream that comes to me in the darkest nights.

Hayze glances at me and shrugs as if to say What do you think? but then immediately puts voice to his thoughts. “It sure as fuck couldn’t hurt.” He dampens his lips. “Whose is it?”

Malakai scrubs a hand over his face. “One of the Collective,” he mouths, his voice less than a whisper. “Not sure which. Or if it’s communal. It was hidden in the back of a cabinet in the gathering room.”

Hayze lets out a sharp breath, giving the bottle another once-over. “You all took quite a chance to get this.” Shifting his attention to Malakai, he tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

There’s a moment or two while Mal seems to consider his answer. His voice is rough when he rasps, “Because he clearly needs it.”

Hayze exhales through his nose. “I fucking know that,” he snaps.

“But I’m not used to you being helpful in the slightest.” Their gazes connect, brilliant blue, questioning …

and dark venom, seeking something that feels like acceptance.

Hayze whispers, “I don’t know what’s up with you lately. But thank you.”

“You can assume it was purely a selfish move on my part, if it makes you fucking feel better,” Malakai bites out quietly before shrugging.

The tension between the two of them is rapidly escalating, but I can’t focus on it right now because Hayze is unscrewing the cap. I wait with bated breath, and then he hands the bottle to me. “Drink up.”

Clasping it in my hand, I brace myself for the pain that lifting the liquor to my lips will bring.

The healing skin is so fucking angry with every movement I make, but I need my senses dulled.

Then, maybe I can form a coherent thought.

My body tenses against the fire racing over my skin, but I take a long swallow and welcome the liquid burn as it slides all the way down my throat and into my waiting stomach.

I stare at Cross and Malakai for a few moments before I raggedly whisper, “I don’t understand why the two of you decided it was a good idea to risk this but thank you.

” Then, for what feels like a very long time, there’s not a single fucking word spoken while everyone watches me take one slug after another of the potent liquor.

After a while, the sharpest edge of the pain lessens.

Maybe I’ll be able to sleep. Maybe not. I exhale steadily as Hayze takes the bottle from my hand. I move to lie back down on my stomach, but the pull of my broken skin over the muscles takes my breath away, despite the effects of the bourbon reducing the discomfort.

“Let us help you.” Hayze and Cross appear on either side of me in an instant, each of them gripping a bicep and easing me down to the mattress.

“He might need more,” Malakai grits out. “He’s a big guy.”

But that’s not it. I know it’s not. And I don’t know how to tell them what I’ve had to do for months on end, how I’ve been self-medicating.

“You’re definitely not getting drunk as fast as I would have thought.” Cross shoots me a perplexed look.

Malakai flops onto his back on his mattress, but raises a brow at me. His expression reads a very clear Come on, man.

My jaw tenses. Does he know? I close my eyes, then mumble the truth that I haven’t wanted anyone to be aware of. “I’m feeling it. And it’s helping … but I think over time I’ve built up a tolerance of sorts.”

Cross narrows his gaze on me. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been drinking the cider … a lot of it.” My teeth grind so hard while I wait for them to say something, I’m afraid they might crack and Nolan will have to pull them out like he did one of Dragan’s when it got infected.

“Shit,” Hayze murmurs, following up quickly with “Why?”

“I can’t sleep. Don’t want to,” I huff out. Please don’t ask.

“Way to be dramatic,” Malakai growls. “I noticed you getting up during the night. It was no secret. But … after your correction, I think it’s fair to say that’s not all you’ve been up to while the rest of us sleep.”

Heat hits my cheeks as a fresh wash of memories roll through my brain in alcohol-soaked glory.

“I can’t help myself. She calls to me. Some nights I drank to take the edge off, but lately, I’ve used Twenty-three to keep my mind off things.

” I bring my hand up, covering my face as a groan reverberates through my chest.

Cross shifts. “Well, don’t think I’m being a dick by pointing out the trouble she’s already caused you and the rest of us … We’d all be better off steering clear.”

It’s quiet in the room for several minutes, but I can tell no one is asleep. “I fuckin’ need her. Can’t explain it,” I mumble, able to tell now that the bourbon has me in its grasp, and my words are coming out funny and kinda slurred. “I have to see her. I need—”

“Look at me,” Hayze demands.

My head feels like it weighs twenty pounds, and as I turn it to face him, I wonder if it’ll fall off before morning.

Two of Hayze stare back at me. “Listen to me when I say this. No. It’s a bad idea.”

“He’s right,” Cross agrees, his tone way too emphatic for my liking. “You’d get caught. Or”—he pauses as the sounds of movement from across the room meet my ears—“someone would rat you out.”

Malakai snorts. “Yeah. No good. We’d be in this position all over again. And if you think the correction would be the same, I hate to tell you, I disagree. It’d be ten times worse.”

“Arrow.” Hayze squats at my side, lowering his voice for only me to hear.

“What you’ve been doing, what you’re saying …

it’s disaster waiting to happen. Do you understand that?

” He stops to heave out a breath. “Or have you forgotten … what’s mine is yours.

And what’s yours is mine. It’s the way of things.

Wanting her for yourself will cause you nothing but pain. ”

Despite his words of caution, in a drunken blur of thought, I make a promise to myself. I will find a way to see my siren, no matter what it costs me. I’ll just have to be more careful so that I don’t hurt her. Not ever again.