Page 30 of Beg Me Angel

Chapter Eight

Pax

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Shit.

Her cheeks were brushed in a gorgeous shade of pink, tickling the edges of her ears and the tip of her nose. A low braid hung over her shoulder as loose strands framed her face, tangling with her long lashes.

I'm not proud of it, but the first thought I had wasn't about making sure she was okay.

I wanted to kiss her. My lips wanted to warm hers, my tongue wanted to soothe hers. I had the urge to take her face in my hands and whisper to her how beautiful she was as I tasted the mouth that spoke to my dreams.

It took one night, one single moment for my entire world to change. And in return, it had taken a piece of me and handed it over to her. She couldn't see it yet, and maybe, maybe she couldn't feel it yet, but it was there.

When I pulled her from that bush, when I nurtured her out of the hands of death, I made a soundless deal with some unknown force, forsaking everything I thought I wanted.

This lost girl had become mine, but in return, I also became hers.

There was a feeling, a desire that was burning deep inside, telling me to do anything to keep her here with me and never let her go. I could have driven her to town anytime and I battled with that idea.

Except. . .Except I didn't want to.

I knew I was being selfish, centering on my own needs and my own lust just hoping she would feel what I already felt. There was no way I could do the things to her I wanted to. . . Not unless I knew she truly wanted to give herself to me.

You're dreaming, you know you are.

Stop being a greedy asshole.

Brushing her knees off, she stretched her back and shook her arms out. “I'm okay, really. It just shocked me more than anything.”

“Vera,” I said, lowering my eyes to the large hole in the ground. “You're right.”

Squinting an eye, her head tilted a hair. “Right about what?”

“It's a grave. Well. . .” Closing my eyes, I lowered my chin. “It could have been a grave.”

Why the fuck are you telling her that?

I wanted to slam my lips shut and stop the words from flowing out of my mouth. But I couldn't, she had fallen into a pit that had a purpose, a hole that at one time didn't have a name, until she woke up and told me hers.

“You're fucking with me right?”

I stood quiet, trying to find the right words to explain away a really dark truth that had dropped into my hands.

She was unconscious for days, her body had bloated and changed colors, her breathing had switched from rapid to shallow then came in spurts of quick short bursts.

There was honesty, then there was truth. I could be honest and tell her what I felt, how I had been so worried about her, how connected I already felt to her even though she had slept through it all.

I could shed my skin and give her what I was feeling, what I had been breathing for the entire time she stayed in that bed and how it tore me apart inside every second. I could tell her I held her hand, touched her face, and prayed that she would wake up.

And I could tell her that when she finally showed me her eyes and feathered my ears with her voice, that everything I thought I wanted had suddenly blown away, dissolving before my eyes as she filled its place.

Or I could tell her the truth. That she had been beaten so badly I was afraid her brain had swelled to the point she wouldn't recover, that some of the bruises mimicked internal bleeding, and that at one point I thought her heart had stopped completely.

That I had knelt by her side and felt her wrist, leaning my head over her lips to see if any air spilled over my cheek while I watched for her chest to rise.

I could give her detailed descriptions of the pain I watched take over her body as tears fell from her eyes as she slept and how she would shake and tremble like her dreams were filled with the worst kind of fears.

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