Page 40 of No Promises, No Lies

DON’T OVERTHINK IT

AIDAN

I’d thought she was faking it. I’d tried ignoring her when her cries for help woke me from the first couple of hours of sleep I’d gotten in days.

The second time I heard her call out, I sighed begrudgingly, pushing back the covers. I took my time and stopped by the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face, noticing the dark circles ringing my eyes. Physical proof of my exhaustion.

The sound of my name from down the hall elicits an unfamiliar physical reaction deep inside me, a twisting feeling in my chest that leaves me anxious. I don’t understand the reaction and so it pisses me off. I stomp down the hall, fully prepared to tapeAurora’spretty little mouth shut so I can get some sleep.Until I lay my eyes on her…

She’s pale.Deathly pale…Her eyes shut tight, exactly where I left her hours ago.

Something’s wrong.

When she expels the contents of her stomach, I rush to her side, pulling her hair back to keep it out of the mess and turning her head so she doesn’t aspirate. I shout for Liam, knowing Alex had gone back to the Bratva and Koen’s out overseeing the latest warehouse shipment.

She mumbles something about pills in her backpack in between heaves. It’s here, I remember it. I gave it to Liam when we were trying to figure out her connection to the Bratva.

My brother appears in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep but his face alert. His eyes scan the room, looking from me to Rory. I explain what I’m looking for and he nods once before disappearing again.

I skim the label on the bottle:Take two pills as needed for migraine.Together, we get the pills into her and as soon as they are down her throat, her body sags with tired relief.

When I think she’s through the worst of it, I get to work. I slide her little velvet skirt off and almost get her tights halfway to her knees before she realizes what’s happening. She lets out a little scream and weakly tries to kick at me.

I level her a look sayingknock it off, and she quits fighting. She shrinks back but lets me tug the tights the rest of the way down her legs, leaving them bare. She curls them back under her, trying to sit up to get enough leverage to propel herself away from me, but she falters, too weak to manage it.

I curl my fingers under her sweatshirt.

Rory slaps at my hands. “What are you doing?” The pure fear in her voice gives me pause. My hands close around her wrists as she tries to push me away. I wrap them slightly higher up her arm to avoid the raw and bleeding marks she’s given herself by tugging against the cuffs. She’s so weak she’s shaking from the effort to fight me off. I reach again for the bottom of her hoodie, trying to tug it up and over her head. It’s a struggle to work it off of her while keeping her pinned.

“You’re covered in vomit. Stop wiggling.” I growl out my frustration, shifting so I’m straddling her now, trapping her legs under me and pinning her hips to the mattress. She doesn’t listen, and continues squirming beneath me until she grinds up against something hard.

She stills.

Her eyes go wide, which elicits a little smirk out of me. “Or by all means, keep wiggling around, Angel. I’d be happy to darken those white wings of yours. Though I imagine those fallen feathers have already turned black.”

She grits her teeth but remains still, giving me the opportunity to tug the hoodie and her tank top off. They’re tossed to the floor. She trembles under me, now only in her bra and underwear. White and lacy.Perfectly accentuating her toned, athletic body.

God help me.

Rory lets out a sigh of relief when I swing my leg off of her, only to let out a squeak of surprise when I scoop her up. She goes rigid in my arms when her bare skin hits my chest. I’d slept shirtless. My skin burns in every place we touch.

Too weak to fight back, she keeps her eyes on me, while I keep mine trained forward.Her pretty blues are too cloudy with anxiety.

“Don’t overthink it, Kostalova. You can’t stay here. Both the bed and you are a mess.”

She looks away; her pale cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.She shouldn’t feel embarrassed about anything. It’s not like she got sick on purpose.

I carry her out of the guest room and into the hall, unsure of where exactly I’m taking her until we end up in my room.

I make a beeline for the bathroom, nudging the soft overhead sink light on with my shoulder. I avoid the harsh overhead light so as not to trigger another migraine. It casts a warm glow around the room.I set Rory down gently on the wide edge of the tub, supporting her weight until I’m sure she’s stable.

My private bathroom is far more accommodating than the one in the guest room. It’s large and open, with a breath-taking view of the night sky through the glass ceiling. The best partabout this room is the large jacuzzi tub sitting to the left of a huge walk-in shower.

Reaching past her, all too aware of our proximity, I twist the knob until steaming hot water pours out. I dump in a few sweet smelling oils I must have stolen from my sister at some point.

Soothing vanilla and cinnamon scents swirl with the steam rising off of the bath.

Rory shifts uneasily where she sits on the edge of the tub, gripping the edge as if she’s teetering on the edge of a high-dive. The sound of running water fills what would be an awkward silence. She seems lost in thought, and I let my eyes roam over her body.

---