Page 7 of The Secret Experimentation
“Are you hurt?” Russel then asks, and I hear footsteps hurrying down the stairs and the sound of a car door closing through the line.
“A little,” I vaguely say, not wanting to go into details about my banged-up body. I feel like I just got spit out of a blender.
“I’m coming.” His reply releases relieved tears down my cheeks, and my tense shoulders slump down.
“Thank you,” I whisper weakly, unable to refuse his help.
“Almost there, Pixie.”
Pixie?If my brain wasn’t trying to dig its way out of my head, the nickname would have made me melt like the Wicked Witch.
The first time I saw Russel I was at one of Kaiden’s parties—one of the many. I was a drunk as a skunk and would have face-planted on the floor if Russel hadn’t grabbed my arm and steadied me. When my eyes lifted on him I thought I was seeing things—like Joan of Arc. He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. With tree trunks for thighs and an impressive bulge straining his jeans. And his torso… Holy sacred Indian cow. It was chiseled to perfection, not like those guys on the covers of magazines. His muscles looked somehow more real, round, and massive. Dressed in a tight, immaculate white shirt that stretched over his pecs, he looked like those huge hockey players forcing to cover their brawn and wear a suit after every match.
I didn’t try to take it slow, to test the waters, and got too intense, proposing I blow him as a thank-you in the bathroom. Yep, I did that. I’d like to blame the high alcohol level running inside my veins, but I’m kinda used to charging ahead and going after what I want. Even when heading for an obvious, Titanic-sized disastrous shipwreck. A clear self-destruction path. Annihilation, thy name is Mel.
Still, even sober I couldn’t ignore Russel. Or his huge porn arms or that hot shoulder-neck thing. You know, when the shoulders are so muscular they look like two small mountains in need of climbing, and the neck so thick you want to hold on for dear life and never, ever let go.
Nevertheless, fate was laughing at me, giving me the sexiest alpha man in the world, just to tease and torment me. Everything I wished for, close enough to grasp, yet so far away. Since he’s straight, as the tall snake plants that used to grow in my grandmother’s back garden.
Why am I so in my fucking head? Oh, maybe because it was smashed hard against the concrete floor by a ski-masked fucker.
A police officer’s dark uniform suddenly appears in front of my eyes. I force them up simultaneously lifting my hand to the dressing on my forehead, hoping to will the pain away. Well, hope is a delusional bitch with too much time on her hands. The officer asks how I am, but before the paramedic can answer, a shiny blue BMW stops near the police car and out comes Russel.
His dark gaze immediately zeroes in on me, and those thick, long thighs quickly eat up the space between us until he’s looming over me.
His jaw is clenched tight. He cups my cheek so gently, his touch barely there, as he examines my face. From the hard glint in his eyes, it must look bad.My Lilliput-sized kingdom for a mirror.
“What the fuck happened?” His cigarette-gruff voice could make any red-blooded guy or girl’s skin break into a shiver.
When I don’t answer straight away he turns to the police officer without letting go of my face. His large, warm hand feels like the only support for my whole aching, exhausted body.
“Through the security camera video, we saw Mr. Colwall volunteering in the pet shelter when a guy forced his way inside. They fought as you can clearly see.” The officer pointed at my beat-up appearance, before returning his eyes to the notepad in his hands. “The attacker tried to subjugate Mr. Colwall, multiple times.” Was there mirth in his tone? No, I must be imagining it. “But when he couldn’t, he fled the scene.”
Russel’s fingers trail down over my arm till they stop on my hand. But his focus seems to be on the police guy.
“Why break into a pet shelter?”
“He was carrying a large-ass Santa-like brown bag.” Ugh, I sound all fragile, voice shaking.Enough of this crap.I’ve been through much worse…well, emotionally at least. Lacing my fingers with his, I notice him stiffening, but in my current state I decide to ignore it. I need something to ground me and his calloused hand on top of mine feels like an anchor at the moment.
“We believe he wanted to steal some of the animals. We can only make assumptions about the reason behind it. A few years ago we apprehended a guy who was illegally selling puppies to a company as lab rats,” the cop explains.
“Christ! Bordering on Cruella’s coat fetish,” I mumble, catching Russel’s intense eyes on me for a second.
My nerves are strung tight, turning my voice into one of a hysterical chipmunk. Russel’s fingers tighten around mine, and I feel my jumbled emotions pinballing inside me.
The officer leaves after making sure I’ll go to the station the next day to give a written statement.
“I’m done,” the paramedic says, putting things away into his bag. He looks at Russel. “If he has a dizzy spell or vomits take him to the hospital. The hit on his head was pretty hard, but he’s concussion free.”
“What else?” Russel asks with a firm tone.
“He has a couple of bruised ribs, the skin on the left side of his torso is excoriated. A split lip, black eye, and some deep scratches on his knees and calves.”
“Jesus!” I hear Russel swear. His eyes are filled with deep anger, and he seems restless. His fingers keep running through his caramel hair, and his body looks as tensed as a bow.
“He’s fine.” The paramedic tries to lighten the atmosphere, probably getting the murdering vibes coming off Russel.
Fine, my ass. My poor body feels like it went under a meat tenderizer at the moment. But my babies are safe at the shelter. That’s all that matters.
