Page 22 of Deviant

A car door slammed, interrupting anything I might have said. Not that I had anythingtosay; I was too stunned by Rafe’s words.

“Go put some clothes on,” he said, smacking my bare ass. “Though I’m fucking tempted to make you greet Jax and Company naked for that stunt you pulled in the bathtub.”

Before he changed his mind, I hurried into our bedroom and rifled through my duffle until I found a red checkered sundress. I pulled it over my head, and as I laced up the bodice, heart knocking behind my ribs, I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face.

He was going to marry me.

In the back of my mind, logic tolled the bell of caution, reminding me how life often left me in the tatters of bloody destruction.

Fuck logic. And fuck the other shoe hanging over my head. That fucker wasn’t going to drop. I would take this morsel of happiness and run with it.

Fight for it.

Enjoy every second.

The soft cotton dress swished against my knees as I made my way into the living room again, where I found Jax pulling Rafe into a quick one-armed hug.

“Damn, it’s good to see you,” Jax said.

My gaze fell on the girl standing behind him and to the side. She wore cutoffs and a black tank, with a compact duffle slung over her shoulder. Something about her seemed familiar—not familiar in that I’d seen her before, but familiar because of the vulnerable aurora surrounding her.

Jax and Rafe’s conversation became background noise for the wheels spinning in my head. She was gorgeous, with blond hair that fell to her ass and striking blue eyes I only saw a hint of before she aimed them toward the floor. There was a frailty about her that unsettled me.

She was too thin.

Too timid.

Straight white teeth sucking in her bottom lip in a move I recognized as a nervous one.

The bruises marring her pale skin were the biggest giveaway.

My gaze clashed with Jax’s. His held a hint of guilt, reminiscent of the way he’d looked at Nikki right before she was killed, and that’s when it hit me. This girl was a slave like the one I’d seen in that tunnel last year. I could practically smell the fear coming off of her, sense the psychological damage behind her guarded eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, cleavage rising and falling too rapidly to be normal in normal circumstances.

But nothing was normal about this situation.

Jax settled a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. The reaction was subtle, and I might have missed it if I hadn’t been scrutinizing her every move. He propelled her a few inches forward before dropping his arm to his side.

“Can you show her to my room?” he asked, directing the question at me. “I’ll take the couch,” he added, a look passing between him and the girl. Whatever he relayed to her without words seemed to ease some tension from her shoulders.

“What’s your name?”

“We’re calling her Angel,” Jax answered.

“What do you mean you’recalling herAngel? Does she not have a name?”

“I’m sure she has one.” Jax inched toward her, shadowing her side in a protective maneuver. “She doesn’t remember it.”

I waited for her to offer something more, but she remained quiet.

“I’m Alex.”

Still nothing. Not even a “nice to meet you” coming from her full lips.

The disquiet that settled over the four of us was suffocating. Finally, Jax broke the tension, snapping it with the force of a whip.

“You’re safe here,” he told her. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Rafe arched a brow. “What’s going on, Jax?”

---