She pauses with the last bite of the damn thing halfway to her mouth. “I can’t eat before I dance. I’m too… nervous, I guess.”
Breakfast. We’d gone to the diner for breakfast and she’d barely poked around at some eggs and a little bacon. We didn’t get dinner after she’d finished dancing the night before either, just went straight into the hospital to see Speck, so she's only eaten that breakfast in the last two days.
She must be fucking starving.
“Angel, listen to me and listen good because I’m only saying this once. You’re going to start taking care of yourself right the fuck now. You’re going to tell me you’re hungry when you need food and you’re going to stop taking the fucking high road. I’m not a fucking mind reader.”
She half nods and shoves the last of the burger in her mouth, glancing at the one I made for myself.
“Eat it. I’ll get another one when I’m done in the shower.”
By the time I get out of the shower, Angel is asleep in my bed with nothing but my hoodie on. It’s a fucking tempting sight and I have to force myself out to the kitchen to eat something. I’ve barely had an hour's sleep in the last two days and I’m running on fumes. Keely and Hawk have taken the night shift with Speck to give us the break because they both know how long and hard Rue and I have been working.
Here’s hoping Rue is actually getting some sleep too and not just obsessively watching Poe breathe through her bedroom window like a psychopath.
I eat in the kitchen so I don’t get dragged into having a drink with any of the guys here. They’re all used to me drinking and partying and fucking my way through any situation the club is in so there’s no doubt there’ll be questions if I go straight to bed.
I couldn’t care less.
At this point, I’m sure half the guys already know I’ve been ‘struck. Axe sure does but he’s been good about keeping his mouth shut, probably thanks to all of the death threats I sent him when I put him on Angel duty.
When I get back to my room, Angel is still asleep but thrashing around a bit. Fuck. I can’t remember the last time I slept next to someone and that shit doesn’t look comfortable. Her arms keep flailing about and her legs are kicking… looks like she’s fighting some asshole off.
I don’t like that.
Not one bit.
I climb in the other side and try to get comfortable, not touching her in any way because I’m proving to her that this isn’t just about the good sex.
I’m just a little pissed she said the sex was just good.
She fucking gushed, the wet spot on my bed was a fucking lake, that’s more than just good.
It takes me a good hour to fall asleep but when I finally do, her body calls to mine like a silent siren’s song. I only know that I’ve reached out for her when a strangled scream lets out of her throat and she scrambles away from me, straight off of the bed and onto the floor.
My brain is still half-asleep but even dumb, deaf, and blind I’d know exactly what the fuck that reaction meant.
Someone’s hurt her. Hurt her real bad.
My mind goes fuzzy as my rage tries to win out over the hazy sleep.
She’s barely awake as she pulls herself up into a sitting position against the wall, her chest heaving and her hands clawing up her arms like she’s trying to gouge my touch out of her skin. This high-pitch keening sound starts up but the wild and frantic look in her eyes makes me sure she has no control over it.
“Angel, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetness.”
The nickname slips out.
This entire fucking thing has caught me off guard.
I’ve gone from wanting to hate fuck her right out from under my skin to wanting to break any man that’s laid hands on her in anger before.
She’s still freaking the fuck out so I carefully, and slowly, get up off of the bed and walk over to the bathroom to grab some pants and clear my head.
I get her cleaned up with a warm washcloth. Her fingernails are destroying the skin of her arms, gouging at her own flesh like she’s trying to dig something out.
I’m done messing around.
I’m finding this motherfucker and I’m killing him.