Page 11 of The Silencer

“It is.”

We chat about nothing, silly small-talk as he rinses my hair and then conditions it, his fingernails dragging against my scalp. Damn, that feels nice, I think as I let him pamper me. When it’s time to get out of the lukewarm water, he wraps a towel around me and helps me dry off.

“So, what am I gonna wear?” I ask when the towel is tucked around my waist.

“So, my dad went to your place to grab clothes last night, so we have your stuff in the dresser. Let me get you some.”

The thought of Anthony in my space makes a shiver erupt through me. Well, damn. I hope he didn’t see any of my sex toys or my dirty clothes. Actually, I kind of hope he saw my toys. Maybe it would make him think of me in a different light. Although, the dirty clothes might make him wince. I have a hamper, but rarely use it. And I’m pretty sure I had some dirty underwear hanging off my bedside-table lamp.

Angel reappears with a pair of bright blue sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a pair of boxer briefs.

“Here you go. Do you need help changing?”

I shake my head and wince with the movement. “Nope. I can manage.”

“Awesome,” he says and then takes a step closer to me, giving me a good sniff. “And you smell much better.”

“Fuck off,” I say with a small laugh as he turns to leave.

When the door clicks shut, I pull on my clothes, checking my face out in the mirror. My eye is still badly swollen, and I have a healing cut near my lip, but other than that, the damage isn’t that bad. My body on the other hand…

I pull up my shirt and see the bruises blooming across my skin. Black, blue, yellow. A nice color combination, but really, not a good look.

They’ll heal.

My mind, however, might take a bit longer.

But then again, I do have the ability to get through trauma with humor. It’s dark and twisted, but it helps me cope.

When I step out of the bathroom, Angel is waiting for me on the bed, his eyes on his phone, his thumb scrolling across the screen. He glances up, and his blue eyes meet mine.

“Oh, you look nice.”

“I look like death, Angel. You don’t need to lie.”

“I’m not lying. You do look good. Much better than when you were in that bed.”

I huff a small laugh and stride toward him, my legs wobbling slightly beneath me.

“I’m gonna have to take it slow.”

“We can go as slow as you want. You ready?” he asks, and I nod, linking my arm through his.

We make our way down the long hallway, our footsteps sounding off the walls. This is a space I’ve traversed often to get to Angel’s bedroom. And I may even know where Anthony’s bedroom is. I had to snoop to find out.

It’s the one at the far end, with the double doors. There is a very small chance, I may have stood outside it once or twice, trying to hear him sleep.

Or jack off.

Or whatever he does behind those doors.

But I heard nothing.

That man is elusive. Even when I seek him out, I can’t find him.

He must have secret passageways around here. Oh god, I’d love to find one of those.

Talk about sexy.

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