Predator - A Stand Alone Suspense Romance(11)

I can’t bring myself to move fast. As I shrug the jacket off, pain pierces through my left side, making it hard to breathe for a moment. I hold onto the wall and step into the shower. Grabbing hold of the little rail, I let the hot water spray over me. My lower back stings where Henry kicked the shit out of me.

I turn my face up to the water and let it wash over me for a while. My cheek, jaw and mouth start to throb with pain as life returns to the wounds, and then the pain spreads down my body, relentless and raw.

My movements are sluggish. I have no energy and my body aches. All my strength has been drained from me and replaced with this harrowing nightmare that fills every part of me with an aching darkness.

I reach for the soap. It’s hard and cracked and I have to work it a little under the water to get it foaming. I keep my eyes on a cracked tile. The one corner is chipped away.

I bite my tender bottom lip as I slip the bar of soap between my legs. It stings and aches so much that my legs start to quiver under my weight. No matter how many times I wash down there, it feels as if the cum is still sticking to me. A sob breaks through my feeble barrier, and I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my soap-covered hand. One tear slips from my right eye and disappears into the water. I gulp in deep breaths, fighting for control over the devastating feelings.

I wash my left arm next, making sure to cover every inch. Even though I want to scrub my skin off, my movements remain ginger. Every brush of the cloth over my skin hurts. The pain is a sickening reminder of what happened.

Once I’ve washed my whole body, I start the process again. Every bruise is pulsing with pain. Every wound is burning as if I’m on fire.

I use the cheap soap to wash my hair. Anything is better than nothing, right? I rinse the suds out and then squeeze the excess water out. I lean against the tiles, totally exhausted.

The water starts to run cold, and I turn it off. I reach for a towel and wrap it around my tender body. I step out of the shower and when I see Damian standing by the door, my heart leaps into a turbulent battle to not let the terror drag me under.

I freeze and clutch at the towel, not sure what to do.

He points to the counter. “Clothes. Get dressed and come eat.”

He leaves again and out of fear that he might come back, I move as fast as I can. I endure the pain as I drag fresh panties up my legs. I skip the bra and grab the cotton shirt. It’s a faded brown and old, but I shrug it on. It’s a few sizes too big. Next is the brown sweats and although I hate wearing sweats, I’m thankful that it’s comfy and soft, especially between my legs.

I leave the bathroom the same way I came in, using the wall to lean on.

Damian is sitting in the corner and his eyes flick up at me for a split second. “There is a burger and fries on the bed. Eat it so I can check your wounds. You need to sleep.”

I notice that he must have changed the bedding, because it’s neat and clean. I crawl onto the bed and all I want to do is sleep, but I take two bites of the burger just to please the man.

He doesn’t say anything when I place the leftovers on the floor next to the bed. I take that as a good sign. I lie down and turn my back to him. That way I can pretend I’m alone.

I hear him move and glance over my shoulder. He has a small bag with him. When he nears the bed I struggle back into a sitting position.

“Let’s make this quick,” he practically growls at me like it’s my fault that I’m hurting. He comes to stand in front of me and gives me a dark scowl. I sigh tiredly and move my aching body into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

I watch as he places the bag on the bed and then he takes out some antiseptic wipes. He just presses the wipe to my cheek, not giving me any warning. I hiss from the burn and yank my head away.

Scowling up at him, I give him a dark look of my own. “Is it really necessary to be so rough?”

He huffs out a breath and then, to my surprise, he sits down next to me. It makes my anxiety spike. I don’t like that he’s so close to me. He leans even closer making it hard to breathe as the air evaporates between us.

My breathing speeds up and I close my eyes. I don’t want him to see my panic and fear.

This time his touch is much softer. It still burns like hell, but the soft way he’s dabbing at my face makes my throat close up.

When he applies some sort of cream to my bottom lip, it becomes too much. I pull away, scooting back on the bed so I can put some distance between us.

I can’t bring myself to make eye contact as I fight the tears down.

I can feel his eyes burn over me. “Where else are you hurt?” The question is short but it packs one hell of a punch.

I wrap my arms around my waist and shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He keeps staring for a little while longer and then he gets up, taking the bag with him. “Sleep,” he barks.

I turn my back on him once more, curling into a small bundle. I pray the numbness of sleep will come quickly.





Cara~

The next day when Damian leaves to go get food, I get up and walk over to the window. Every movement hurts like hell, but I can’t stay in bed. I have to get better and get out of here. I move the curtain to the side and peek outside. There is a parking lot with only two cars in it. We’re at a motel, a Village Inn. I’ve stayed in one plenty of times so the experience is nothing new.

I spot Damian as he comes walking around the diner. He’s carrying a brown paper bag. I stare at him as he comes closer. His steps are hard and solid, and every movement seems calculated. He keeps his head down, but I get a feeling he sees everything around him, including me, even though I’m hiding behind the curtain.