his eyes filling with tears. “Help me,” he repeats, and in those words I hear a plea. He’s asking for something, something he doesn’t even know how to do.
I open my arms and he rushes into them. I fall to my knees, wrapping myself around him. “Shush, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” I chant, holding him close.
His hands convulse on my back as he drags me closer, his head burrowing into my shoulder as a sob racks his body.
I hold him, anger burning in my gut. Whoever did this, whoever hurt him, will die.
I hold him as he cries, as he breaks in my arms. I can feel his mind shying away, he wants to speak, to tell me, but he can’t. He feels guilty, wrong, like he shouldn’t be reacting like this. Gripping his head, I pull it away until I can stare into those red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes. “Baby, tell me, I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t,” he croaks.
“Griff, please, what’s wrong?” I beg, gripping his cheeks. He shivers, his eyes closing for a moment in such immense pain and...guilt?
“I can’t—”
“Can you show me?” I suggest and he cringes, staring into my eyes. “Show me, baby, let me in.”
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks as his mind opens to me. I dive in, reliving what happened. As I watch, I feel what he felt. The confusion, the horror, the guilt, the utter hopelessness. He feels like he shouldn’t care, that he shouldn’t be upset. God, my poor boy.
I push away my anger and need to hunt the fucker down—I can do that later. Right now my mate needs me. “Griff,” I murmur, and he opens his eyes, beyond hurt, expecting me to invalidate his feelings. “What happened was wrong. You hear me? It was wrong. He should have never touched you. Do not blame yourself or try to explain it away. It was wrong.”
“I-It was just a touch, though, and it doesn’t happen to boys. It was just a power play,” he whispers raggedly.
“Who the fuck says it doesn’t happen to boys?” I roar, then calm down. “Baby, look at me, did you want him to touch you? Did you consent?”
“No, but—”
“No buts, then it was wrong. You have every right to feel the way you feel, baby. I can’t take it away, God, I wish I could. I wish I could go back so you never have to experience that, but all I can do is offer you my arms. I’m here if you need to rage. To cry or to feel nothing. I’m here, I know what it feels like, baby, and it won’t disappear, but you have to let yourself feel it, no matter how hard it is. You need to, don’t repress this, it happened, baby. It happened.”
Sometimes all you need is someone to believe you. I see the moment he realizes why he feels this way in his eyes, because deep down he knows he was sexually assaulted. He presses himself closer and I hold him, I hold him for as long as his tears fall and then even longer.
Pain is pain, it doesn’t discriminate based on gender.
The door opens and he jolts but doesn’t pull away. Jair and Dume are there, the wolf too. They regard us before they step inside and shut the door. “Guys, not now,” I whisper.
Dume looks at the man in my arms, his face sad and understanding. “I was raped repeatedly by my queen. By a woman others followed and looked to for leadership, she even made me enjoy it. I hated myself for it, hated myself for so long. I still see her face.”
Griffin lifts his head and Jair steps closer, anger flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t glance at me, but keeps his gaze trained on Griffin, and I can feel his struggle at admitting what he shares. “I was turned by a woman who used my body as easily as she used my fangs. I convinced myself I enjoyed it as we killed and fucked. After, I would even cuddle with her surrounded by their corpses and blood. But inside I hated myself, I lost myself. It twisted me, and only now am I able to look back to see that I never, not once, wanted her. I felt like I owed it to her, that she controlled me, and I was so scared that I had to.”
Griffin swallows, his eyes confused at their admissions, at