Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
RORY
Slash thankfully woke up enough to help me get him into his house. I’d had no choice but to text Hunter to see if he was awake, asking if he knew Slash’s address.
He was luckily still awake and knew, laughing at me for being stuck with Slash’s drunk ass.
I was not impressed, and I’d spent the last five hours glaring at the sleeping prick from the chair in the corner of the room.
I still couldn’t believe he’d shown up in the middle of the night, drunkenly rambling on the doorstep.
The second I’d heard his car pull in, I shoved some sweats and a hoodie on, grabbing my phone and his gun on the way downstairs in case I had to call Skeeter to stop his boss from murdering me, or murder the prick myself.
Instead, I’d left the house barefoot to drive the stupid drunk idiot home, some of my anger fizzling out. I had to hate him, but it was hard to hate someone who was being so damn pathetic.
I needed a cigarette and a coffee, but there was no way I was going to take my eyes off him for even a second in case he woke up and shot me or something.
A groan left him as he rolled over, squinting against the bright light. I wasn’t shutting his curtains, I hoped it burned his eyeballs out of their sockets.
It took him a few moments to notice me, his whole body freezing to assess me as I stared right back at him.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his sleepy morning voice going straight to my pussy.
Did I have some kind of weird trauma bond to him? That had never happened before, and I mentally scolded myself. There was no way this asshole was at all what my body needed.
“You showed up at my place in the middle of the night, drunk and begging for forgiveness. I drove you home before you woke up the whole damn house,” I said tightly, his eyes dropping to the gun that was resting on my thigh.
“Why are you still here then? Going to shoot me?” he asked as he sat up slowly, swinging his legs out of bed.
“What was I going to do? Walk home barefoot? I don’t even have my keys on me, I just needed to make you leave before Caden woke up and heard you rambling.”
“You don’t have shoes?”
“No. I don’t even know how you drove to my place, you could barely stand.”
“Last thing I remember is talking to Ty. We were drinking at his place,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as if to help him see his memories better.
“Why were you drinking with Ty? I didn’t think you were friends,” I scoffed, his eyes finding mine.
“Caden wanted alone time with you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“He doesn’t like being alone,” he shrugged, getting to his feet. “I need a shower.”
“You can’t show up at my place like that again,” I bit out, putting my hand on the gun as he stepped closer. He halted, putting a hand up.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Why haven’t you told anyone? Skeet would—”
“You think I want to tell Skeet that his best friend fucking raped me?” I snapped, making him wince.
“He’d kill you, I know that, and that’s the last thing I want playing on his mind for the rest of his life.
If he shoots you, he’s choosing me over the crew.
What happens then? He gets thrown out? Murdered?
Labeled a traitor? The crew means everything to him, fucking everything, and I refuse to let you take that away from him.
If I told Josie or Caden, they’d drag you through court, sure, but I’m sick of being the fucking victim, Slash.
Do you know how Josie looked at me when she found out about Tristan?
Like I was some poor little girl that she couldn’t protect.
It’s not her job to, and I’m not some damaged girl that needs saving.
In keeping this shit buried, I’m saving myself. ”
“You’re far from a victim, Donovan. You’re a survivor,” he offered quietly, hesitating before continuing. “Did I hurt you?”
“Of course you fucking did!” I shouted, getting to my feet but holding myself back from waving the gun at him. “You forced yourself inside me!”
“I know, fuck. You should see a doctor, maybe—”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I warned, aiming the gun at him when he started moving closer again. “Don’t.”
“I don’t know why I did it,” he insisted, thankfully stopping.
“Because you’re a monster.”
“Not like that!” he barked, frustration seeping out of him as he raked a hand through his hair.
“Hate to break it to you, bossman, but that’s exactly the kind of monster you are,” I said in a low voice, keeping the gun on him.
“I’m sorry.” It was so quiet, the regret on his face almost making me feel bad for him as if he was the victim here.
“Did you do it to scare me off? To break me? To make me feel dirty? Why the fuck—”
“I can’t get you out of my fucking head, Aurora,” he replied, desperation in his tone.
“I hate you, but I want you at the same time. Every time you open your goddamn mouth, I want to strangle you then fuck you until you fall into line. I was supposed to just threaten you, but I blacked out in my anger and then you were crying and I freaked out.”
“You don’t fucking want me, you psychopath. You just want to control me.”
“I don’t want to want you,” he said firmly, and this time when he stepped closer, he didn’t care about the gun in my hand, moving towards me until the barrel pressed against his chest. “You drive me insane with your defiance. Every time you mouth off at me, I just want those lips wrapped around my cock again until neither of us can think straight. When you blew me at the Shed? You were the only one in control. The second you got on your knees, my brain died.”
He slowly lifted his hand and reached out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing my lip as I pushed the gun harder against his chest.
“Slash, don’t.” My hand trembled, and self-hatred filled me when I couldn’t pull the trigger.
“I’m sorry I did that to you,” he murmured, his free hand carefully taking the gun and tossing it onto the bed so he could step even closer. “Stay here while I shower, then I’ll take you home. I’ll leave you and Skeet alone, you have my word.”
“Your word doesn’t mean a thing to me,” I choked out, trying to step back, but the chair was in the way.
“I’ll call someone to come and get you then. Just wait until I shower and make coffee. Stay, please,” he asked, angry tears burning my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I’ll make you something to eat too.”
My body sagged slightly when he left the room, my heartbeat slamming inside my chest as I tried to calm down.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket to see it was Caden.
Caden: Where are you?
I couldn't exactly tell him I was with Slash, he’d call Skeeter and freak out, so I lied.
Rory: Sorry, I should’ve left a note. I went for a walk. Had a shit sleep.
Caden: You should’ve woken me, baby. Want me to come and get you?
Rory: No, I’ll be home soon. Give me an hour or so.
I pocketed my phone again and poked my head out of the bedroom, spotting a pack of cigarettes on the table in the living room. I hadn’t snooped last night, too worried Slash would wake up and corner me, so I moved through the house cautiously as if he’d set booby traps everywhere.
The pack thankfully had some cigarettes, so I took one and raided his bedside drawers for a lighter, before returning to the living room to get comfortable on the couch. I smoked to calm myself, some of the tension returning when I heard the water switch off a few moments later.
Why hadn’t I just told Caden to come and get me? I could’ve just said Slash had shown up drunk and I’d taken him home. It wasn’t like Slash was still drunk and would tell him why he was there in the first place.
The bathroom door opened and steam billowed out, my eyes immediately going to Slash’s wet, naked abs as he stepped out in a towel, seeming oblivious to my perving as he walked over and grabbed a cigarette for himself.
His broad chest had an eagle across it, the wings spanning his chest in a similar way to Lukas’ angel wings, and both his arms were covered in ink too.
They had the same pattern down both, a mix of roses, dice, and scattered playing cards.
The Psychos logo was on the inside of one of his forearms, seeming to be the only difference between them.
I noticed dates on his other inner forearm, but I didn’t get a good look before a knife appeared in front of me. Slash shook it a little, making me jerk back.
“If you want to stab me somewhere, here,” he joked.
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you looking for somewhere to inflict damage?” he asked dryly, lighting his cigarette and putting the knife on the table in front of me. I had no idea where he’d gotten it from.
“I’m not,” I said as I swallowed nervously, realizing that he was practically naked in front of me.
“Killer, stop looking at me like that,” he said quietly, stepping closer as I ran my eyes over him.
“I don’t know how to feel anymore,” I admitted, leaning forward to flick ash in the ashtray, blowing smoke up at him. “Why did you make me come?”
“I wanted you to like it. For a second, I forgot we hated each other and what I was doing. All I could feel was you,” he said honestly, putting his cigarette out and taking a step closer.
“For that second, I did like it, and I hate myself for that,” I forced out, swiping at my cheek as a stupid tear escaped. “I hate that part of me still wants you too. There’s no reason for this attraction. You’ve never been nice to me, but there’s this pull I can’t ignore.”
“I feel it too,” he murmured, kneeling in front of me and taking my hand in both of his. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t get to be sorry,” I whispered, trying to push him back to stand, but he wouldn’t budge. “Slash—”
“You’re under my skin and I don’t know why,” he said as he studied my face, not reacting as I smacked his bare chest.
“I want to go, so take me home.”
“Can you just stay for breakfast?”