Page 27 of Ravaged Saints

Aspen

It’s morning, and I barely slept. I’ve been locked in this goddamn room since last night. I tried kicking the door down and picking the lock, even though I had no idea how to do it.

I heard voices near the door early in the morning, but no one came to open it. I bang my fists on the door again, but nothing.

My hands hurt, my breathing comes ragged, and my head is throbbing, and my body is still sore from when Knox threw me to the floor last night.

Knox…I felt a shiver down my spine. The way he grabbed me and how he positioned himself between my legs made my blood boil. The problem is, I don’t think it was all rage; there was something else. He was hard, so hard; I haven’t felt a man like that ever.

With Cash, everything was fast. They picked me up from my room, dragged me to his room, locked the door, and before I could even say a word, he was holding his penis in his hand and pulling my panties down. That was it; it hurt so bad…

I shake my head, trying to erase those memories from my brain, but they never go away.

I hear the click of the door, Dante walks in, and my breath catches. He is wearing dark green cargo jeans and a black compression shirt, his muscles on full display, dancing as he walks inside. His arms, like Knox’s, have tattoos all around them, but it’s that damn skull on his hand that drives me up the goddamn walls.

Damn, what the hell is wrong with me?

“Good morning.” He speaks low, a smooth rumble that sends a shiver through me. A soft smile curves his lips, the kind that lingers just enough to make my heart skip a beat, his eyes warm as they meet mine.

“There is nothing good about this morning.” I grunt, “I need to use the bathroom.”

He nods and moves from the door, gesturing for me to leave. I do, and he falls behind.

“You can take the clothes from Bryn’s room and take a shower, but don’t lock the door, or I’ll break it.” He says calmly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, his eyes burning into mine.

I don’t comment but roll my eyes. Heading to the room, I get what I need and head to the shower, closing the door but not locking it. The last thing I need is that bull to break the damn door down!

The water is warm, and it helps the ache in my body. I have a few scratches; one of them on my left rib hurts more than the others.

I put on a baggy t-shirt that probably belongs to one of the guys; it’s black, so I don’t put on a bra right now, and sweatpants that belonged to the woman that was here, so they kind of fit well.

Getting out of the bathroom, I watch as Dante’s eyes move up and down my body, not in a lustful way, more like he is checking if I’m hurt.

He signals me to get into the room, and I frown. “You are not allowed out of the room for now.” He deadpans, and there is a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Great, an even smaller prison,” I say sarcastically, and he just stares at me.

As I sit on my bed giving Dante a death stare, Max enters with a tray of fruit, eggs, and orange juice. “You need to eat. I’ll bring you lunch later.” He stops and looks at me, taking me in, and I do the same, crossing my arms, not a single shame. If they do it, so will I.

His hair is longer than the rest of the guys, and he has a three-day beard. Like Dante, he is wearing cargo jeans and a loose black shirt with combat boots, but Max has a soft British accent, and I wonder how a British guy ended up here.

I look at the tray and cross my arms. Max’s green-hazel eyes are intense, and his gaze makes my face feel warm. I can tell I’m blushing, but I don’t care; nothing matters anymore.

“Will let you eat and rest; anything you need, just call out.” He says, walking out with Max.

“You mean scream.” I snap, and Max smirks, a devilish glint in his eyes.

The door closes, and I hear that damn clink of the door locking.

I look at the food, and my stomach squeezes. I feel the bile coming up my throat, so I cover the tray with a towel, trying to hide the smell. Whenever I feel anxious, I can’t eat, and right now there is no way I can even take a bite of the food.

I try to keep my mind busy. The room is small; there is a single bed near the wall, a small square window on top of the front wall that I can’t even reach, and a bookshelf full of old books, most of them about guns and cars. There is a one-door closet that I open only to find some blankets, another pillow, and a large grey coat.

I decide to lie in bed and maybe have a nap. My eyes feel heavy after the shower, and I need some rest so I can think clearly.

I must’ve fallen into a deep sleep without even realizing it because when the door opens, it startles me. Dante walks in carrying lunch, but he frowns when he sees the breakfast on its tray. “You need to eat.” He sets the lunch and removes the breakfast tray, staring down at me.

“I’m not hungry.” I turn and cover my head with the blankets. He sighs, and the doors close again.

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