Page 56 of Angel

“Didn’t know you could eat so much. Not sure where you put it.”

“I work out a lot, so my body is constantly hungry.” The way she says hungry makes my dick twitch.

Down boy. “Right, in the gym or the bedroom?”

She stops chewing and shoots knives through me. “Fuck you, Venom.”

“Do I have to pay or is the first one on the house?” Damn. I don’t know why I said that. Yes, I do. Her being a prostitute makes me fucking crazy. The jealousy soars through my veins, wreaking havoc on my common sense. The only other time I have felt anything like this was with Jules, but even that wasn’t the same. Angel left me addicted, without ever having tasted her.

“You know what? Forget it. You’re right. This isn’t going to work.” She takes one more bite of her burger and flies out of the booth. I slap some money down, enough to pay the bill and a generous tip, and chase after her just as she’s about to swing her sexy-as-fuck leg over her ride. I gently take hold of her arm, wishing I could feel the silky skin hidden by the leather. She doesn’t seem to flinch at my touch anymore, and that fact pleases the shit out of me. She stops dead in my hold, but doesn’t turn around.

“Hey, I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say. I didn’t mean it.” Jesus Christ, who am I?

I can see her profile as she slightly turns, her long lashes taking center stage beneath a fallen strand of hair—hair I want to brush away. “Did you just apologize to me?”

“Can’t believe it myself. But look, I just mean—”

“Stop. Drop it. Let’s just go.”

I forgot that I’m still holding on to her, but it’s taking everything in me to release her. The sadness in her voice tears me apart. I ball my hand into a tight fist, because I want to imprison her until she tells me why the fuck she’s giving her body away like its nothing. Like it’s a piece of trash. Those men aren’t worthy—deserving—of any part of her.

I release her and climb on my ride. “If we leave now, we can make it to Orlando by about ten tonight. Probably would have been able to make it sooner if it weren’t for all those stops.”

“I’m sorry if a girl has to pee.”

“Every half hour?”

“What-the-fuck-ever. I’m at your mercy now, so lead on, master.”

I clear my throat. “Ha, all right, peach. I like the way that sounds.”

“Shut up, and don’t call me peach.”

“Whatever you say.” We both speed toward the highway, and I can’t help but grin.

NINETEEN

Angel

“Peace of Mind” by Villain of the Story plays as we pass the welcome to Orlando sign.

About five minutes later, a Disney and Universal Studios sign pops up. I smile, thinking how fun it would have been to go there as a kid. It was like a written rule: kids go to Disney. But that rule didn’t apply to my childhood.

Venom leads me down a side road to a motel. You know, the kind with only two floors, no inside hallways, just a pool surrounding the middle. The sort I’m ever so familiar with. I can say with confidence that we’re past the “wondering if he’s going to murder me” stage. It’s almost scary how normal and sometimes—dare I say—nice he actually is.

I grab my things from my bags and walk with him to the lobby desk. I hold my breath against the whiff of horrid, suffocating air. It smells of feet, beer, and marijuana. “Lovely, a contact high,” I mutter in jest, but it’s definitely true. I tap the bell, waiting for the clerk.

“Wouldn’t be so bad right now, actually.”

“Did you make a joke?” I nudge his arm and smirk, but he just grunts.

When the guy comes out from the back, his hazy gaze aims directly at me before it travels to my chest. “Do all men love to openly stare at women’s breasts in public?” I ask out loud.

Before I can threaten to gouge the man’s eyes out for staring at my goodies, Venom slams his fist down on the counter. “We need two rooms. One night,” he tells the stoned-out clerk impatiently.

He types something, then makes a tsk sound with his tongue. “Looks like we only have one room left for the night.” His eyes dart between me and Venom.

“Does that room have two beds?” Venom strums his tattooed fingers on the counter.

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