Page 47 of Bully

The entire cab ride a few blocks over to his hotel, I worried myself into a fit.

Tamen was dark; I knew that. He didn’t pretend to be normal or sane, not once. Never mind the tidbits of info I had overheard from him or his sisters when we all hung out. There was danger in his life and now that he had gone MIA, I was worried.

God, I hated worrying. Especially over a man.

When I walked to the private elevator leading to his penthouse, the doorman simply nodded to me and swiped his key card to give me access. Did he look worried?

Or was I overthinking?

“Thank you.” I nodded, as the doors shut and started the long assent up to the top. “Please don’t be dead.” I whispered, and then the doors opened.

The last time I had been to the penthouse, it had been bright and open during our meeting, giving the best views of the surrounding city, yet today, darkness met me as I hesitantly walked out into the foyer. “Tamen?”

Silence met my greeting as I made my way toward the large, open living room. I didn’t know if he was home or not, but if he was, something was wrong. “Tamen!” I snapped as anxiety grew in my chest.

I pulled my phone from my purse and hesitated, not even sure what I intended to do with it until I pushed Peyton’s name and left my thumb hovering over the call button as I ventured deeper into the dark room. “Tamen, are you here?”

I ran my knee into an end table and grabbed the lamp a millisecond before it fell off onto the ground. Flicking the switch and bathing the room in light, I could finally see.

And I wished I couldn’t.

“Tamen!” I screamed, covering my mouth in shock and dropping my phone as I found the man in question sprawled out on his stomach across the couch, but hanging halfway onto the floor like he had slid off.

He was wearing only a tight pair of boxers—and blood.

“Oh, my god!” I fell to my knees next to him and pushed his damp hair off his forehead as I leaned over him. “Please, be alive. Please god, be alive.”

His face was cut up in different places, and the blood had crusted over, leaving hard lines across his features. He didn’t even twitch as I shook him, trying to rouse him. The moment my hand touched his back, as I tried forcing him onto his side, a thick, warm stream of blood welled up from a wound on his shoulder, instantly coating my hand; it felt slick and hot.

And a weak groan slipped from his lips.

“No.” I sobbed, my hands shaking as I pulled a plush blanket from a basket on the floor, its texture soft against my fingers, and pressed it to his back. “Tamen, please! Please, you have to wake up. I don’t know what to do!”

“Shh.” He slurred, turning his face so it was no longer buried in the cushion. “You’re ruining my buzz.”

“I hate you.” I hissed. “Is this a bullet hole?” With trembling hands, I lifted the blanket to find a gaping, circular wound on his back, spilling blood. I slammed the blanket back down, the horrifying sight seared into my memory, praying it would somehow stop the bleeding. “What the fuck happened?”

“Bad day.” He grumbled and finally cracked one eye open to look at me. It was so bloodshot I couldn’t see any white.

“I have to call for help.” I whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

He shook his head slightly, “You can’t.”

“Why? I don’t know how to help you. You’re bleeding to death!” The sobs wracked my body as I cried in hysterics, a torrent of tears blurring my vision.

“Aw, Rainbow. Worried about me?” He slurred again, closing his bloody eye and going so still I thought he passed back out again.

“I hate you!”

A sarcastic smile graced his bloody face. “Right back at you.” With a pained groan, he attempted to sit up, his arm falling limply onto the couch before his body, failing him, slumped forward into me; the smell of his sweat sharp in the air. “Christ, that hurts.”

“Please let me call someone. Dane or Peyton, maybe.”

“No.” He scoffed. “I don’t need their judgments.”

“You need theirhelp!” Holding him up as he once again tried to sit on his own unsuccessfully. I mustered all my strength and shoved him with all my might, sending his large body sprawling back against the couch cushions until he was sitting upright. “Ineed their help!”

“No.” He repeated, lifting his chin from his chest where it rested and finally, opened both eyes to look at me. “You can leave; I’ll be fine.”

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