Page 6 of Sugar Coated

I moved through the open space, around the couch and the metal sculptures littered around the large room, slow in reaching his side. By the time I got to him, he’d pulled out a pair of black sweats and a plain black t-shirt.

The man liked black. Couldn’t even be mad about it; he looked damn fine in all black with that lone gray tuft of hair near his left temple and his almost metallic silver eyes and teeth.

He set the clothes on his bed, saying, “Here. And if you should change your mind about the shower, I’ll leave the door cracked for you.” Fang gave me a sly look before sauntering away, and I couldn’t resist his pull; I turned around and watched him go, wishing I could join him in there.

But the furious touch of my Devil was still too fresh in my mind. I didn’t want to let it go just yet. Wherever he was out there, a part of him was still with me, and I couldn’t let him go so soon.

I let out a long breath when Fang disappeared into the bathroom, and I was sluggish in taking off my clothes. First thing that came off was my shoes, then my pants. I slipped on the sweats—they were crazily baggy on me, to the point where Ifelt like I was drowning in them, but I wasn’t going to complain. The next thing that came off was my shirt. I even took off my bra before I pulled Fang’s shirt over my head.

It was strange; I didn’t even realize Fang had a certain smell until I put his clothes on. It was hard to describe. Ash. Cinders. The scent of a man who liked to get dirty when he worked. It was the opposite of a bad smell.

I crawled onto his bed and rested my head on his pillow, working to get myself under the covers. The only light on in the loft was a lamp near the couch; it wasn’t super bright, but it was enough light to illuminate the entire open-concept space in a dull, dim yellow. I lay on my side, giving my back to the lamp.

Honestly, tonight took multiple turns I didn’t expect, turns I couldn’t have prepared myself for. My Devil making an appearance after such a long period of silence was the biggest plot twist in my opinion, but the kidnapping followed as a close second.

Someone had it out for me. I stupidly hoped that Kieran getting shot was the end of it. Really, I should’ve known whoever was behind it wouldn’t give up.

My thoughts turned to Kieran after that. I would like to visit him in the hospital again. As much as I hated to think it, I did miss his sarcasm. I’d never tell him this—his ego was already supersized—but occasionally he was funny. Sometimes. Not all the time, but he had his moments.

Damn it. I missed those moments.

I must’ve lost myself in thoughts about Kieran longer than I thought, because suddenly Fang was walking out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean waist. The man was tall, over six feet, but just short of Mike’s impressive stature. He was also thinner; less bulging muscles but still quite nice to look at, with a faint shadow of abs on his upper stomach.

I really must have a thing for older men, because I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked to his dresser to pull out his own pair of sweats.

Less than five feet away, I could see the beads of water on his back, between his shoulder blades. His black hair was slicked back, like he ran a comb through it before coming out of the bathroom. With that towel around his waist, it was strangely one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

Fang glanced at me over his shoulder, and I noted just the quickest of smirks before he tugged at his towel and let it fall to the floor, thereby giving me a nice view of his ass before he got into the sweats.

Okay, the man had a nice butt. A very nice butt. Possibly the best butt I’d ever seen in my life—never mind the fact it was also pretty much theonlybutt I’d ever checked out like this.

Fang, now blood-free and wearing nothing but sweats, flashed me a grin before he climbed into the bed beside me. That smile was minty-clean, telling me he’d brushed his teeth as well.

Good. As sexy as it was watching him tear into someone like an animal, I didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of kissing those lips with the taste of another person’s blood in the mix.

Fang rolled onto his side, his head inches away from mine. His chest was shirtless, and he pulled me into him as it rumbled. “I do love having you in my bed,” he whispered, his arm steel behind me, as if he thought I might try to scoot away.

As if.

After everything, I was done pretending I was a good girl. Right now, I really wanted to be bad. To chase after what I wanted, not what everyone else thought I should want.

His brows furrowed. “You’re getting bruised here.” His arm moved so his fingers could lightly touch my cheek where the jerk had hit me twice. “Does it hurt? I might have Tylenol somewhere, if you want it.”

“I cut my face, dislocated my own shoulder, and cut off two fingers without pills,” I whispered. “I think I can handle a little bruise.”

“That’s right. You are a soldier, aren’t you? A princess who can take care of business.” The hand lightly touching my face fell to my arm, then my side, where it curled around to my lower back once more. “I do hate the thought of you hurting yourself, though. May I ask, why did you do it?”

He was so calm about it compared to Mike, though maybe that was simply due to Fang putting it together from the beginning, while Mike had to be told the truth.

I swallowed hard. “I never told you about the two years I was kidnapped.”

“No, I suppose you never did. We always had other things to discuss. Tell me about your first kidnapping, Princess.”

So I did. I told Fang how it happened; how my dad and his new girlfriend at the time were out of the house, putting in the work for his political career. How someone was waiting for me in the closet in my room and how I woke up in a small room with nothing but a bed, a toilet, and a tub.

Oh, and a chain keeping me fixed to the bed and the small area around it.

I told Fang more than I told the police, more than I told my dad. I went into detail about how the bedsheets were pink, how it didn’t even occur to me at first that the kidnapper had been watching me, studying me. I mean, how else would he have known my favorite color was pink?

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