My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,13
me—one single but heavy step. In that moment it felt like we were an ocean apart. Even worse, after he had moved, I caught sight of his wrist. My heart shattered when I saw the drying blood staining his tattooed skin. He had been digging his nails into his skin. Only this time, he had managed to pierce the flesh.
Dread washed through me. He was getting worse.
“Flame… baby…” I whispered and slowly approached him, hands at my sides. Flame’s nostrils flared at my proximity. But he did not move away when I reached his taut and fearful frame. My soul began to cry. What could be causing this? Why did he suddenly fear me, the only person he had ever let in? Fear my touch, the touch that calmed his demons? I felt sick. Not with my pregnancy, but with the loss of my husband’s acceptance. It was the most treasured thing we both had—the freedom to touch and love the other without payment or condition. “Shall we go home?” I prayed my voice was not shaking, even though inside I trembled like a leaf shuddering in a Fall storm. I did not put my hand in his, nor did I attempt to touch him and cause him pain. I needed to get him home, where he felt safe.
Flame turned and walked beside me in silence, into the elevator and then out of the hospital. I hoped that being out of the building would relax him some, but it did not. He kept glancing my way, his dark eyebrows pulled down in worry.
The truck’s engine sounded as loud as cracking thunder as we drove, still without a word, out of downtown Austin and then to the Hangmen compound. The moment we were in the privacy of our home, I turned to face my husband. Holding out my hand, I begged, “Take my hand, baby.”
I watched him. Studied every move he made for answers. As I dangled my hand in the fragile space between us, I saw his eyes flare and his lips grow tight. Flame’s fingers twitched. I knew he wanted me. I could see the longing in his desperate gaze. It broke my heart. Flame’s fears often broke my heart. My husband, part dangerous killer and ultimate protector, part lost and broken soul forever seeking some kind of light. “Please, baby,” I said, this time losing the battle to stop the trembling in my voice. “It is me. Your Maddie. Your wife.”
“My Maddie,” Flame croaked, his face contorted with pain. He shook his head, and before I could comfort him, he brought his hands to the side of his skull and began to hit himself. “Not again. I can’t do this again.”
“Flame!” I jumped forward. Flame rushed out of my way and backed against the kitchen wall until he hit the plaster with a dull thud. “What is happening?” I demanded, fear becoming my leading emotion.
Flame’s muscular neck corded with tension, but with a gentle and lost hopelessness in his voice, said, “I’m hurting you.” He stared at his palms like they were the Antichrist. They were shaking. It destroyed me, eviscerating my heart, which was waiting for his confession, before beating again. Flame looked into my eyes as he began to crumble. “You’re still sick. I can still see it on your face, on your pale lips. You never lie to me. But I know you’re sick. I’m…” I froze as Flame reached out his hand, stopping just a hairsbreadth from my cheek. His gaze shone with unshed tears of agony. “It’s me,” he stated, so quietly I could scarcely hear his deep, broken timbre. “It’s finally happening.” He dropped his hand and ran his fingertips down the pattern of the veins on his wrist. “The flames are growing stronger. They’re getting to you too.” Flame blinked and a tear dropped to his chest, slipping under the collar of his white shirt. “I can’t hurt you. Not my Maddie. I can’t. I won’t …”
My stomach turned, nausea building in my throat. I shook my head since I could not find my voice. “No,” I rasped, realization dawning on me like the sun bursting from behind a gray cloud. “Flame.” I took a few slow steps forward. My husband looked lost, at a loss for what to do. “It is my fault.” The confession slipped easily from my lips. I had kept this from him. All the while, he had believed he was hurting me. He watched me. He