“Is that what you were warning me would happen?” she says, her voice a bit choked up. “I never should have disobeyed you and forced you to let me out.”
Her eyes are watery and the tears are about to flow, but I wrap my arms around her, squeeze her, unable to help noticing how tiny she feels. Smaller than usual, so bunched up and troubled.
“You had no way of understanding how severe this all is,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. “This isn’t your world you’ve stumbled into, it’s mine. I never wanted you to experience life like this.” That’s the truth, too.
Her good hand goes to my cheek, and I feel her push up on tiptoe until her mouth grazes against mine, but then she winces away in pain.
“C’mon,” I tell her. “Let's get your wounds looked at before we do something stupid.”
Unfortunately, both of us had more than our fair share of wounds, but within thirty minutes, I’ve sewn us both up. She was right, thankfully, and the cut on her finger didn’t drive too deeply at all. I must’ve interrupted him in the act of slicing off my precious kotika’s finger.
I’d never have forgiven myself if I’d been a moment late...
I don’t know which was worse, though: patching her up or taking care of my own bullet wound. A swig of alcohol numbs some of the pain, but certainly not all of it. Good thing I have steady hands and the willpower of a Minotaur.
“I need a shower,” Alicia says, and I want to tell her that she shouldn’t, but those emerald eyes are begging me not to. “Will you come with me? I don’t want to be alone...”
I nod, “Let me run the shower for you.”
I lead her down the halls, letting her look around. It’s another simple place, not too dissimilar to the safehouse I’d had her in before. It’s over top of a warehouse, in what was at one point undoubtedly the office section, with a break room, kitchen, lockers and shower. All of that now converted into another Spartan hideaway.
I start the water, get it nice and hot because that’s the way every woman I’ve ever known prefers it, then I turn, only to find her there waiting for me.
“Come here,” I beckon, my hands going to her top, carefully removing her blouse. I’m trying to play the gentleman, but it’s hard to ignore the pillowy mounds of breast flesh barely contained in her bra. Those luscious tits are enough to steal any man’s focus.
And it’s impossible to take my eyes away when her breath quickens, her breasts rising faster and fuller as I look at her. I swear, I see a flush go across her creamy skin, and when I look at her face once more, she’s drawn her lip into her mouth, chewing on it.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she confesses, taking a light step toward me, clearly favoring her unshot leg.
I’m woozy from the loss of blood, but I’m still made of flesh, and when her finger trails down my chest, the last thing I’m thinking about is my desire to have a shower and clean up. With her, I want to get down and dirty in every conceivable manner.
“You didn’t trust in me?” I ask, my voice tinged with a hint of darkness. I hope it’s enough to whet her appetite.
“I hoped I could,” she says, her voice just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly drowned out by the pitter patter of water beside us, the steam quickly working its way into the air. “But I thought maybe I’ve been too much trouble. Maybe you wanted to get rid of me after all.”
I shake my head, possessiveness burning in my veins. I keep pushing her away, so I know she’s partially in the right to feel the way she does, but the idea that she couldn’t trust me to rescue her burns me.
I know now what I have to do. I have to prove to her that she’s mine, and there’s no escaping that, or me. Not even through death.
18
Alicia
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. My head is spinning like a top, my body is aching all over, and all I can think of is my desire for this man. He saved me, again. And he didn’t just save me, but he showed me what he is, who he is.
He’s a man I should be terrified of, a man I should be running away from, but I’m not. Instead I’m standing here, wanting him to take me. To push my body to the limits and really make me feel what it is to be his woman.
My fingers trail down his body, and he simply breathes in evenly, as if he’s not affected, but I know he is. I know he wants me just as badly as I want him. It’s written all over his face, all over the way he can’t help but stare at my semi-exposed body.
I reach into his pants, stroking him through the cotton of his trunks, and already he’s as hard as a rock, pulsing with life and excitement. Whatever blood he’s lost, he’s got plenty to spare for this manhood of his.