Page 16 of Redemption

“Vector?” All desire is gone from her voice as she struggles to readjust herself.

My hands go from caressing her to tightening into fists, both in her hair and the blanket beside her as I attempt to get control of myself.

“Vector? What’s wrong?” Sloane places a hand on my cheek, trying to get me to focus on her. There’s nothing but concern splashed across her face, but I don’t need that from her.

“Get out!” My yell is cut short by one of the worst cramps I’ve felt in years, and I try to roll to the side except my lower back tenses up and even that seems impossible.

“Can I get Bridget? Or Roman?” she quietly asks when I start trying to get my breathing under control.

“No, bitch. Leave and don’t come back,” I growl, so fucking angry that she’s witnessing me like this.

My eyes are nearly slits as I shove my fist into my back, trying to work out the Charlie Horse that developed there—adding to my misery.

The pain on her face is quickly replaced by anger, then another emotion that I don’t have the strength to decipher right not.

Sloane rolls away from me, and watching her walk naked to my bathroom angers me on a deeper level; for no other reason than the sight of her pale, flawless skin. As the pain in my back slowly become tolerable, so do the muscle contractions in my leg, but it’s not until I feel the bed move that I open my eyes again.

She’s got one of my T-shirts over her and is holding the prescription salve that I’ve never used.

“Go. The. Fuck …”

“Shut the hell up,” she snaps at me, putting the jar on the bed between us. “This is what you need, isn’t it? I’m taking your pants off and you better not fight me on that, you dickhead.”

Another flare up renders me unable to stop her from yanking off each of my boots.

“Fuck you for wearing your jeans and boots when you’re having sex,” she mumbles more to herself than to me as she wrestles to get my drawers down.

No one on this property has seen what she’s facing. And right now, I’m too tired to fight her, even when I momentarily consider having her get Bridget.

“Okay, well that wasn’t from a bee sting,” she says, and my eyes shoot to her face. The lack of pity or revulsion stops me from yelling at her again, but I’m still on edge at being exposed like this.

Her eyes study what’s left of my buttocks and thigh on my right leg, and I know goddamn well it ain’t pretty.

“Will it hurt you more if I rub this in right now, or do you need a minute?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t know,” I tell her, continuing to study her face, but only seeing acceptance written across it. “Not like this.”

“You’re a little old to be this vain, Vector.” She lets out a loud sigh as she rolls her eyes, reaching for the salve.

I clamp my hand over her wrist and her eyes meet mine again. “Give me a minute, huh?”

She nods, then does the last thing I expect after the way I spoke to her.

Sloane lays alongside me, tucking my head under her chin as she wraps her arms around my neck and simply stays still.

At some point, her head snaps up and I realize she had started to doze off. Looking up, I smile when I catch her wiping a little drool from the side of her mouth.

“None of them know,” I say, starting a conversation I hopedmighthappen a few months down the road. “Bridget and some of the guys, they know I was wounded in combat. But they don’t know how bad it is some days.”

“How many rounds of skin grafts did you have?”

Her question gets my full attention, as does the flash of pain in her eyes. The words that I yelled at her when I was in agony, echo in my head.

“Are you familiar with the procedure?” I prod her, curious to know how she so quickly identified what she was seeing. Almost immediately I tighten my arms around her when her eyes flood with tears, but she only gives me a curt nod and bites down on her bottom lip. “Four.”

“My brother. He killed himself. After the second one.” Sloane’s voice is barely audible, and she takes deep breaths in between each word.

I quickly try to fill in the blanks with what I do know about her. “Was he on an oil rig?”

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