Page 11 of Beg Me Angel

Chapter Three

Pax

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She looked so weak, so tender and scared as she stood in place, full of fear and confusion. Her eyes shifted around in quick jerks, her fingers nervously braided together, only to untie and braid again.

I couldn't imagine what the hell was going through her head, but I didn't want her to bolt and take off running. She had lost her friend, she had no clue what the hell was going on.

But I wasn't about to chase her down through the woods. If she ran, I would have no option but to just let her go. Tracking her down in the dark, fighting against the cold air and hungry animals would do nothing but drag me back ten steps from where I was.

Don't do it, girl, don't run.

It'll be the biggest mistake of your life.

“Come on, sit. I promise, I'll help you figure this out. I need you to drink something at least, you're definitely dehydrated if nothing else.” Holding out the glass, I nudged it towards her. “Take it.”

Folding her arms over her chest, I watched her cringe as she tried to hug herself. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you're not the reason I'm like this?”

Sighing, I scratched my fingers through my beard. “Sweetheart, if I was the one responsible for the way you look right now, trust me, the last thing I would be doing is offering you shit to help.” Stepping towards her, I reached for her hand.

The young girl flinched, but she didn't resist my touch, she just watched me. Her eyes burned into mine, filling with distrust and fear.

Holding her fingers gently, I curled them around the glass and stepped back. “Drink.”

Her tongue dragged across her cracked bottom lip, tempted by the sweet liquid it craved. “Did you put something in it?”

“No.” Holding out my hand, I flipped my fingers. “Here, give it, I'll drink some myself if you don't believe me.”

Studying the water, she swirled the glass and watched the small tornado that formed inside. Cocking her head, her lips thinned as her brows dipped in hard. “Okay, here.”

Snatching the glass from her hand, I took a huge gulp, practically emptying the cup in one swallow. Swiping my wrist across my mouth, I wiped away the droplets that perched on the hair above my lip. “See, it's clean. I'll get you some more and you can watch me if you want to, if that will make you feel better.”

The girl eyed me, her lips turning down as she frowned. “Itwouldmake me feel better,” she snapped, squeezing her ribs in between her arms.

I could tell she was trying so hard to be strong, to hold in the tears she wanted to shed and the screams she wanted to lash at me. I wasn't going to get pissed at her for it if she let it all out, but I wasn't the one she should be questioning.

She had been through something, something that might have killed anyone else. But whatever had tried to consume her had lost; this vixen to the eyes had won.

Luck was on her side because I had found her. If it had been an hour earlier or a couple of hours later, I might not have seen the smoke and she might have taken her last breath on the cold, hard ground.

And honestly, I was getting to the point where I wasn't even sure she was going to wake up at all. I prepared for that, I made sure I was ready if she exhaled one last breath and let the forever sleep gobble her up.

Only that's not what happened.

Now I had this wrecked soul standing in my living room, glaring at me like I was the devil himself. I wanted to scoop her in my arms and brush my palm down her hair, smoothing it out against her scalp and allowing her to cry into my chest.

Then there was the other side, the part of me that wanted to drive her into town and drop her off, just to be rid of whatever trouble her presence could bring.

The quiet world I had built for myself was screaming at me to bring back the silence and return her to the chaos outside my wall of trees.

I wished I could listen, I wished I could shut down the small part of me that was still somewhat human and send her packing. But I couldn't. She was in need and I wouldn't let her go unless I knew she would be safe.

It wasn't weakness, it wasn't a soft heart that beat inside my chest; it was life, it was breathing and living that forced me to pick her up and carry her to safety.

It was something about her.

Her feet shuffled across the wood floor, barely lifting an inch off the ground. She looked so uncomfortable and miserable. The girl didn't walk with grace, she hobbled; her face wasn't calm and assertive, instead she grimaced with every movement she made.

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