Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(38)

I crawl off the bed and follow him into the bathroom. “What were you doing out there?”

“Like I said,” he says, drying his hands after washing them thoroughly, “it’s none of your business.”

“Why do you smell like a fuel fire?” I say, narrowing my eyes when his widen. I knew it. He did something. The question is … what? “You burned someone again, didn’t you?”

He averts his gaze and turns on the shower instead.

“Didn’t you?” I repeat, this time with a harsher tone.

“Why are you so interested?” he says.

“Because.” I shrug. I don’t even know. I just feel as though it might explain shit about him. Why he’s so fucked up to begin with. He was always obsessed with fire. Ever since we were young. I don’t remember him any other way. And it seems it’s only gotten worse over the years.

“Sometimes I like to let off steam,” he says with a smug face. “Just like you sometimes like to set off bombs in hotels.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” I reply.

Suddenly, he takes off his shirt.

Just like that.

Half-naked right in front of me, and I can’t avert my eyes. Can’t fucking look away from that godly male chest brimming with testosterone, and it’s right in front of me. I don’t remember him looking like that back when we were young. Nor do I remember him flaunting it in front of me. Ever.

It’s as if he wants to make me feel whimsical, like a hormonal teenager, ready to be swept off her feet. But that’s just it. He isn’t the type to do that. He’s the type to make you wanna run and beg for mercy. The one who creeps up on you in an alley and bangs you right there against the grimy wall.

Just the thought makes me clench my legs.

“Go back to bed,” he says.

“Or what?” I say, raising a brow, still wondering how far I can take this.

If he’s not gonna kill me, what the fuck else is he planning on doing with me? Because from the looks of it, it’s not much.

“Fine, then don’t,” he says, rolling his eyes as he takes off his pants too.

My eyes can’t stop drifting down his chiseled abs toward the incredible bulge that just appeared. I can’t even will them to look away. And I don’t remember Brandon ever looking this yummy way back when …

Am I losing it? Yep. Definitely.

He tried to warn me, and I ignored it. Great.

When my gaze meets his, he’s staring back at me. Is it suddenly hot in here, or is it just me?

He’s wearing a smirk on his face, so I quickly look away as he turns on the shower.

“What am I supposed to do then, huh?” I say, holding out my hands, which are still tied. “Just sit there and wait?”

“I don’t care,” he says, taking the braid out of his long, black hair. “I’m taking a shower.”

“But what about your uncle’s men?” I say.

“I doubt they’ll burst in at any second. And if they do, they’ll find me butt naked and you tied up.”

I make a face and frown. That can’t be his plan. He went through a lot of trouble to get me out of there. He could’ve killed me or taken me to his uncle himself, but he didn’t. Which means he’s up to something.

Instead of telling me, he spins on his heels and takes off his underwear too.

But my eyes don’t just glance at his butt. They’re fixated on his back.

It’s covered in tattoos. Names. Some scorched off partially.

And one of them is mine.

My eyes widen. Holding my breath, I trip on my own feet walking backward, and I tumble down.

When he turns to face me, fully naked, with that same grim look on his face, I feel overpowered. For the first time since we met again, he’s managed to subdue me with just one look.

“Those tattoos …” I mumble, but my gaze can’t help but be drawn down to that giant thing dangling between his legs. Jesus Christ. I never knew he was this big.

Saliva makes me roll my tongue in my mouth.

Stop it, Dixie! Get a hold of yourself, goddammit.

I shouldn’t get distracted. He has names tattooed on his back, and mine is on there too, while others are crossed out. Is it an elimination list?

That’s the only answer that makes sense.

My lungs suddenly feel constricted.

He stands in the door opening, staring me down. For a second, I have no clue what I’m going to do or what he’s going to do. But then he abruptly closes the door and leaves me alone in the room.

So much for an answer to the questions burning on my tongue.

I quickly crawl to my feet and look around, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do next. I’m still locked in this motel room, being kept as a prisoner by a man who doesn’t know what he’s going to do with me. And to make matters worse, he’s a past boyfriend and one of the monster responsible for the death of my brothers. I’m stuck with my worst enemy. Just my fucking luck.

I kick the empty trash can across the room, and yell, “Dammit!”

There’s no phone in here either, so I have no way to contact my dad and let him know what’s going on. Meanwhile, Brandon’s uncle is still alive and looking for us.

And what is he doing? Taking a fucking shower.