Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Slash,” I said, lifting my chin a bit, trying to make myself seem more confident at that moment than I was.
He looked good, damn him.
I mean, I guess dudes always did.
It was another unfair privilege their sex got to enjoy.
No periods. No unexpected pregnancy. No birth control side effects. They aged like fine wine. And they just… always looked good.
The bastards didn’t know how lucky they were.
“You good?” he asked, those familiar eyes of his roaming over me, taking me in, seeing more than I wanted him to. That was a risk you ran when you shared a fun, filthy relationship with a man for years.
We might never discuss religion or politics or hopes and dreams for the future.
But we could read each other.
Because if you were going to be fucking, you needed to be attuned to each other, to be able to read their moods.
“It’s been a week,” I told him instead of insisting that I was fine.
“I’ve had some of those,” he said, and I knew him well enough at this point to know what he was actually saying. I know what it’s like when shit sucks, and I can be an ear if you need it.
And I did.
I needed someone to listen to me more than I had ever needed it before.
The problem was three-fold, though.
First, I didn’t want the bikers involved. I didn’t want them to think they had to get in a street war over my stupid fucking decisions.
Second, I knew what happened to men who got involved in my life.
And third, I cared more than I should have what Slash thought of me. And I didn’t want him to look down on me, think I was stupid, or judge me for decisions I’d made when I was practically still a kid.
I projected a carefully cultivated version of myself to the world. And, sure, people like Delaney got to see little hints of the parts that I kept hidden away, but nobody got to see it all.
It was probably not healthy of me, but that image was important to me.
“Yeah,” I said, not knowing what else to say, busying myself by pouring him a drink.
“Hey,” Slash said when I pushed his drink toward him as I started to turn away, his hand grabbing my wrist, stopping me from moving. “Nyx, come the fuck on,” he said in a low voice that only the two of us could hear.
“Come the fuck on… what?” I asked, feigning ignorance as I yanked my hand away from him, glancing around the room, making sure no one had seen him touching me, that no one was making conclusions about it.
When he said nothing, just gave me a look that was a mix of concerned, frustrated, and resigned, I turned and walked away.
“Chet, I’m getting some air,” I called, getting a distracted wave from him as he texted furiously on his phone.
I slammed my hand into the door to the side alley with more force than was necessary, moving out into the fresh air, taking a deep breath, hoping to ease the frazzled ends of my nerves.
I heard footsteps and felt fear grip my system, a snaking sensation that constricted around my stomach and throat in unison, squeezing out all my air, some part of me sure that some random Bulgarian crime leader was there to demand all of his heroin back right that moment.
But when my gaze went to the end of the alley, I saw a shadowy figure that, despite the bad visibility thanks to the busted streetlight, was achingly familiar.
“I came out here to be alone,” I called to him.
“Too fucking bad,” he shot back, staring down the alley toward me.
I knew what I was supposed to do.
Turn and head back into the bar.
But I couldn’t seem to force my feet to move. I couldn’t even find an ounce of motivation to make me want to walk away.
“Talk to me,” Slash demanded as he stalked down the alley toward me. A big, shadowed, intimidating figure with a voice that would make most women cower.
The thing was, I knew Slash was just about the last man in the world I had to worry about hurting me. Even if he was angry.
“No.”
“Nyx, what the fuck? You look like you haven’t slept in a fucking week. You’re jumping at every loud noise. The fuck is going on?”
“What? I’m not allowed to be a little off my game? Have a touch of insomnia?” I said, folding my arms over my chest.
“It’s deeper than that.”
“How the hell would you know? You don’t know me,” I told him, jerking my chin up as he moved to stand in front of me, towering over me.
“Yeah, I do.”
“What? Because we’ve fucked a few times, you’re now an expert? Got a PhD in me now?”
“That bitchy shield you like to throw up, it isn’t fucking fooling me.”