Page 13 of Protected from Malice (Blade and Arrow Shadow Team #1)

“It didn’t taste like it,” Rafe adds with a sad shake of his head. “What a disappointment.”

As I look at him, my chest squeezes.

Nerves erupt in my belly.

I could put this off. Wait until Indy gets here.

Or… I could tell Rafe right now. Take this burden I’ve been carrying for over two years and share it with someone I trust.

“Eden, you can talk to me, you know that, right?” His gaze is soft. Understanding.

“I know.” My heart thuds hard. “I… I know I need to. But… it’s scary.”

Rafe squeezes my hand again. “You don’t have to. But if you do, I promise I’ll be right here to support you.”

My face goes hot, not from embarrassment this time, but from the fear and anxiety flooding through me. I take a shuddering breath. Close my eyes to prepare myself.

Then I open them to meet his worried gaze. “I’m afraid this might have something to do with what happened. With the man who wants to take me.”

“Afraid what might have something to do with it?”

“What happened two years ago.”

Rafe tenses. His fingers stiffen around mine. “What happened, Eden?”

I lower my gaze to the bedspread, studying the zigzag pattern of blues and grays. “It was a little over two years ago, really. The end of November. Right after Thanksgiving.”

As I cast my mind back to that terrible night, the memories threaten to crush me. To constrict my chest until I can’t breathe and throw me into a full-blown panic attack.

A tremor shivers through my body.

“Eden.” His thumb rubs back and forth across my palm. Worry darkens his gaze. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I do.” After two years, I can’t keep it a secret anymore.

“You’re shaking,” he observes. “Maybe this isn’t the best time?—”

“There’s never going to be a good time.” I take a few deep breaths, letting each one out slowly. I concentrate on separating myself from the violence of the memories. On seeing them like a distant observer instead of the one who was there.

“I was coming home from work,” I continue. “Since it was late November, it was already dark by the time I got back to the apartment complex. But it wasn’t the first time I’d walked across the parking lot at night. I didn’t think much of it, really.”

And just like that, I’m back in the parking lot.

In the dark.

The beam of my keychain flashlight bouncing across the shiny asphalt as I hurry towards my apartment building.

The LED lights from the security lights flickering as I cross underneath them, reflecting off the droplets of rain collecting on my coat.

My thoughts were distracted that night. I’d just had a breakthrough in my research, and my mind was brimming with the implications. Of the lives that could be saved if it actually worked.

“I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have,” I admit as I lower my gaze to my lap. “I had my flashlight, and the parking lot had lights… I’d made the trip plenty of times before without any problem.”

In a low, strained tone, Rafe asks, “But?”

“You remember my old apartment complex. With those big parking lots.” Rafe had visited with Indy a few times; they’d walked across that very lot with me, in fact.

He nods. “I do.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes. My nose stings. The air feels like it’s being sucked out of the room, leaving me light-headed.

“I’d had a really good day at work. So I was thinking about that. But I should have waited until I got home. I should have been more alert.”

I steal a side glance at Rafe. His features are hard. Dark. Like they could be carved from stone.

“I was halfway across the parking lot when I heard the footsteps,” I whisper. My throat is too tight to speak louder. “At first, I told myself it was nothing. Just another person who lived there. Until…”

My heartbeat thunders so loudly I can barely hear myself say the rest. “Until the footsteps started to move faster. Like they were running.”

Rafe grits out a low, “Fuck.”

“I started to jog. Not running, because there was still this part of me that insisted it was nothing. Even as I considered it, I thought—how embarrassing if it’s just a neighbor.

Just someone coming back from the gym, wanting to get one last burst of exercise in.

Or it was someone trying to get out of the rain.

” I stop. “It was raining. No. Misting. It was cold and damp. And the asphalt was getting slick…”

An unintelligible growl rumbles beside me.

I don’t dare look at him again. Not now.

After what feels like an eternity of silence, I force myself to continue. “By the time I decided to run, it was too late. He was right there. Behind me. And—” My voice catches. “He tackled me. Knocked me to the ground.”

“Fuck.” It’s rough. Pained.

“I didn’t have my taser back then. And the pepper spray was still in my purse. So stupid, I know. I should have?—”

“No.” Rafe’s hand squeezes mine. “ No . You shouldn’t have—fuck. Fuck .”

The heat of his anger thaws some of the ice slinking through me. Makes it easier to get through the rest of it. “I tried to get away. Tried to call for help. But… I couldn’t. He… He was just too strong.”

“Eden.”

Rafe turns to me. His expression is sheer agony. In a low tone, he asks—no, pleads, “Tell me it’s not true. Please .”

“He—” Tears leak down my cheeks. My throat feels raw. Like every word is a shard of glass torn from it. “He raped me. I couldn’t stop him.”

After I say it, it feels like the world comes to a stop.

Time loses all meaning.

Everything inside me feels like it’s been carved out.

But.

It also feels like I’ve lanced a long-infected wound. A wound that two years of counseling still hasn’t completely healed.

Rafe lets out an agonized sound.

He gets up from the bed. Crosses the distance to the window in several long steps.

Then he just stands there with his hands on the windowsill, his entire body vibrating with tension.

Or is it anger?

Disgust?

His fist slams onto the windowsill with a heavy thud.

My stomach curls into itself.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I couldn’t?—”

Rafe spins back around to face me.

All his emotions are right there, carved into every feature.

Pain.

Devastation.

Fury.

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes close for a second before reopening. “Eden. Don’t be sorry. Don’t… Shit. Fuck.” He hits the windowsill again. “It’s not your fault.”

And even though I know he’s right, even though I’ve been through this with my counselor over and over, I can’t ignore that little voice in my head that asks, What if? What if I’d come home earlier? What if I’d had my pepper spray in hand? What if I’d run the moment I heard the footsteps?

“I should have driven around until I found a closer parking spot,” I reply weakly. “Or?—”

“No.” Rafe leaves the window and comes back over to me. He stares at the mattress for a few seconds before sitting again. This time he leaves a few feet between us. He doesn’t reach for my hand.

A dagger slashes across my heart.

That silent voice whispers, He’ll never look at me the same way again.

After a few seconds, he asks, “Did they catch him? The police?”

“No. I never saw his face. Just… his clothes. Jeans. A dark jacket. A ring. But nothing that could help.”

Rafe’s tone is carefully controlled. “But the police were involved?”

“Yes. I called them right away. But… the man. He wasn’t in the system. And without a description, there was nothing to go on.”

“Fuck.” He takes a few deep breaths. “And you think… Shit. It could be him. Coming back.”

My breath catches. “Maybe.”

Rafe shifts so he’s facing me. Then he touches my hand. I drag my gaze from my lap to meet his.

For a moment, I can’t breathe.

Not from the memories. But from the pain in his eyes.

“Does Indy know?” he finally asks.

“No. When it happened, you guys were overseas. Even if I could have gotten a hold of Indy, I wouldn’t have told him. Not then. He would have wanted to come home. It would have distracted him. Put him in danger. Put all of you in danger.”

Rafe sighs. “And after—” He stops. “Shit. Then he got hurt.”

“I couldn’t tell him then, Rafe.” I turn pleading eyes to him.

“It’s not like I wanted to keep it a secret.

But he almost died . Then there were the months of surgeries.

Rehab. You know how depressed he was. I was scared he’d—” Fresh tears spill free.

“How could I tell him something that would make him feel worse?”

“Ah, Eden.” He swallows hard. “I’m so fucking sorry. I wish… You could have told me.”

“What could you have done, Rafe? Nothing.”

“That’s not?—”

“I filed a police report. I found a counselor. Signed up for self-defense classes. And I moved as soon as I could.”

Rafe grimaces. “To a house with an attached garage.”

“Yes.”

“What about your mom? Did you talk to her?”

I shake my head. “You know how she is. She’s doing okay now, but she’s still on medication for depression and anxiety. If I told her, she would have been so upset?—”

“Eden.” Rafe interrupts me. “So you’ve been carrying this on your own for two years?”

“I see a counselor…”

“That’s not enough. You need support from your family. Your friends. From—” His mouth snaps shut. “Just… shit.”

His hands flex into fists.

“I’m sorry, Rafe.” I swipe at my wet cheeks. “I didn’t want to bring this up. But if it’s him…”

Fire flashes in his eyes. “Do not apologize, Eden. For anything.” A beat later, his shoulders sag. “What can I do? How can I help?”

Aside from going back in time, I’m not sure there’s anything he can do.

Except.

As I look over at the stretch of mattress between us, I realize I do know what would help.

Before I can second guess myself, I blurt out, “Could I have a hug?”

Surprise flickers across Rafe’s face. “Of course. But… I don’t want to make things worse. Trigger you.”

“You couldn’t.” And it’s the truth. Despite the banked danger inside him, I know Rafe would never, ever do anything to hurt me.

I trust him.

As Rafe shifts closer to me, he says, “If I start to make you uncomfortable, tell me right away. I mean it, Eden.”

“You held me before,” I reply. “At my house. And the other hotel. You held my hand. I was fine. You’re not going to make me uncomfortable.”

Although.

Am I making him uncomfortable? Does he not want to hug me? “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

His face jerks with shock. “Shit, Eden.”

Then he pulls me into his arms.

His embrace is achingly gentle, but reassuringly strong.

One hand comes to my back, moving in slow circles. His other cups the back of my head.

His breath feathers across my hair as he murmurs, “Of course I want to.”

I wind my arms around his waist and lean into him, notching my head beneath his chin.

The icy bands wrapped around my chest release.

His heart beats fast, echoing mine.

“I’m here,” Rafe says quietly. “And I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

I close my eyes and breathe in his familiar scent.

Let myself sink into his embrace.

And for the first time in years, I finally feel safe.