Page 12 of Joy Guardian
For years, the memory was a source of pain and later the source of anger at my mother. It had tormented me so much that I buried it, refusing to ever look back, as if the first six years of my life never happened at all, as if I was born at the temple where my real life began.
But now, I remembered seeing a similar cut on my mother’s lip. I saw it clearly just before she kissed me goodbye.
Bruises didn’t show on our coal-black skin. Wounds healed quickly, easy to hide for a little while. But a cut on the lip remained visible for everyone while it was fresh.
Mother had been hurt the night she dropped me off at the temple. Then she went back to my stepfather to face him alone…
My next breath came out shaky. I flexed my fingers, fisting the plain material of my skirt.
A gentle touch of Ciana’s hand covered my fist.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to run away from me again,” she said with a gentle smile.
I had to run. I had to crawl into a dark, cold place somewhere and stay there for the next century or longer to process everything I’d just remembered.
But as I stared at her small brown hand on my large black one, I had no strength to pull away from the comfort it gave me.
I didn’t know what she saw in my eyes when I looked at her, but her features crumbled with compassion.
“Oh, Kurai,” she breathed out, shifting closer. “Please, my past isn’t worth it for you to be upset about.”
She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her warmth.
There, on the shoulder of the woman whose kind I swore to cleanse the kingdom of, I let the memories assault me. Because at that moment, I couldn’t think of a safer place to face them.
Four
CIANA
His body shook as he buried his face in my shoulder. Kurai was suffering, and all I could do was hug him.
“There, there…” I whispered, stroking his wide, muscular back. “It’ll be okay, darling. Everything will be okay.”
Shadow fae might lack the ability to feel pleasure, but they clearly weren’t insensitive. My life story touched Kurai, but I sensed there was more to it. Something in my past must’ve resonated with him on a deeper level than mere sympathy. He was hurting, falling apart in my arms, and I held him. I’d hold him for as long as he needed me.
With a deeper, stronger breath, he straightened and met my eyes.
“Thank you.” His otherworldly, emerald-green eyes brimmed with unshed tears that made them shine like precious gemstones.
“You’re very welcome.” I smiled. “Thank you for listening when I really needed someone to talk to. And I’m glad I was here when you needed a shoulder to lean on.”
He breathed deeply, running a hand over his hair.
“I’m not sure what came over me,” he muttered. “I don’t ever hug.”
“Well, that’s a shame. Because there is not a thing in life that can’t be made better by a warm, friendly hug.”
He peered at me from under a strand of coal-black hair that had made its way out of his hair tie. “How old are you, Ciana?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“So young. I’m more than four times older than you. Tell me, how did I not know that about hugs?”
“I always knew it, silly, and age has nothing to do with it. Didn’t your mom hug you?”
Pain sliced through his handsome features, and I knew that my words must’ve touched something raw inside him.
“I…I should go.” He gathered his long legs under him and got up.
