Page 20 of Beg Me Angel

I will not touch her.

She's way too young, it's wrong.

Rinsing the dish, I dried it quickly and stuck it back in the cupboard. I had to place my focus on finding out who had hurt Vera. That was all I could do, I couldn't touch her no matter how much I wanted to, at least not yet.

Not until I thought she was ready.

But I would make things right. The bastard who hurt her was going to pay for what they did. I didn't have a good reason for why it meant so much to me that they paid for this, she was as much a stranger to me as the poachers I've come across in the past.

There was danger peppering the life of this woman and I shouldn't have wanted any part of it. Only I wanted every bit of it, I wanted to breath it, feel it, consume it. Then I wanted to snuff it out.

Does this make me a horrible person?

That was a stupid question, one that didn't even deserve an answer. Holding the counter in both hands, I let my head fall forward, breathing in the metallic tang of the sink.

What makes a man bad? What forces the title of evil?

Was it torture? Was it to kill?

If the answer was yes, then I was guilty as fuck.

Because I knew when I found the person responsible, they'd be wishing for me to pull the trigger.

The thought made me smile, it sent a wavy energy through my muscles and forced adrenaline through my veins. Every single second those feelings surged through my body; well, it made me feel better than I had in a long time.

I'm fucking evil as sin.

The shower shut off and I could hear her shuffling around. Lifting my head over my shoulder, I eyed the door. A soft voice started behind the barrier, it was gentle and mumbled, echoing off the walls.

Is she talking to herself?

Wait. . . Is she singing?

How could she be singing after waking up the way she had? There was no reason for her to be humming, to be smiling, to be flirting for that matter.

Vera really has no idea what she's been through.

I had debated her claim of not recalling what had happened. How could she remember nothing? It didn't make sense to me.

My decision to keep her here and not take her for help wasn't a simple choice for me to make. The whole chaotic scene I walked into was riddled with a foul odor. You don't end up like she did for no reason.

I didn't know who was after her, I didn't know if she had gotten herself in way over her head. I spent the first two days she was here switching between watching her and watching my woods for intruders.

Someone had done that to her, and that someone could have tried to come back and finish her off.

But when that didn't happen, when my woods stayed quiet and no monsters seemed to be hiding, waiting. . . I prepared for something else, for the reality that her injuries might be too much for her to overcome.

Thinking about that made me cringe, it turned my stomach and cut into my chest like a serrated blade.

She's alive, she's walking and talking, she's here.

Stepping to the door, I pressed my ear against the dense oak and listened. Her voice was low, but beautiful. Whatever words rolled off her tongue, it sounded like a fucking symphony of perfect harmony.

I was mesmerized by her sound, by the high lull of her tongue as her voice grew louder and louder. The handle jiggled as she opened it, but I was so drawn to her music that I didn't even realize what was happening.

The door popped open, my body falling forward as she pulled it in, tripping over my feet as I tried to keep my balance.

“What are you doing?” Vera asked, clinging to the trim of the towel tucked under her arms.

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