Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I wonder if there’s a phone in the living room.
I wander over, trying not to look like I’m looking for something, keeping an eye on Axel.
I don’t find a phone, but Axel does have nice furniture and a big bookshelf up near the front door.
A front door that looks locked. When I get close to it, Axel dries his hands on a towel, walking up to sit on one of the couches.
“My mom used to read to us every night.” He nods at the bookshelf. “Even when we were older. Our eyes would be tired by the end of the day, so she’d read aloud before we went to bed.”
I stare at the books. They look like fantasy stories and books about knights, kingdoms, and dragons.
“I kinda hated it back then,” Axel says, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket. “It was more Gage’s thing, but now I’m kinda glad she did. Helps me beat the stupid Playboy stereotype.”
I shoot a glance at him. He winks at me.
He fucking winks.
I hate him.
I turn stiffly, then move to the edge of the room, testing how far I can go before Axel shifts to keep me in his line of vision. It’s only about ten feet.
Axel stays quiet. I think he expects me to try to run.
So I don’t.
“What are we doing?” I ask calmly like we’re friends.
“Chilling.” Axel has his foot propped up on his knee. He clasps his hands behind his head.
Oh my god, the way he’s all comfortable when I feel like jumping out of my skin makes me rage. I want to hurt him. Tie him down and beat him with my bat.
The image of Axel tied down and at my mercy pops into my head without my permission. All those muscles and no way to protect himself. They’d pop out as he’d fight the ties. His veins would too, tracing paths up his muscled forearms.
My skin gets hot.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, then suck in a calming breath. Then I ask, “What do you want from me, Axel?”
He’s silent for a while. Then he blows out a breath of air. “We’re already doing it.”
A mixture of reactions fills me—impatience, disbelief, and confusion. But I don’t let it show. “We are?”
“Yeah.”
I stare at him in silence. He just wants to hang out with me? Bullshit. What’s behind the lines? Maybe he wants me to stroke his ego or make him feel like he’s a good person. I try to think about why Dad did what he did. Or even Max.
Even thinking about them makes my cheeks hot. They did it because they’re small-dicked men and get off having power over others. It makes them feel powerful.
Does Axel want to feel powerful?
I stare at him. He chews his gum quietly.
If he wants to feel powerful, then he wants me to cower. To cry and fight him. Which is exactly what I did up in the room. But down here, I’m not playing his game anymore.
Axel breaks the silence. “So, your stalker.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. What is his obsession with Max? Does he feel… threatened?
The thought is so absurd that I almost snort. Almost. Two men fighting over someone who doesn’t want either of them.
“I won’t let you put yourself at risk. You’ll stay with me until I know that’s not an issue.”
His words take a second to register, and I squeeze my hands into fists. He thinks he’s the knight in shining armor, rescuing me from Max?
I press my nails into my palms to feel anything other than the suffocating need to bash Axel’s head in.
“Cool. Now that that’s settled.” Axel gets up, moves to the kitchen, and grabs some things from a bag on the counter. He lays them out on the table, one looking like… a tattoo machine or some sort of tool.
I freeze. He sets out more items. I’m not sure what it is until I see him dump out a bunch of… nail polish?
“Come over,” he says.
I absolutely will not.
Axel takes a deep breath, letting it out. “C’mon. I won’t bite. I’m going to do your nails.”
I blink. The fuck did he just say?
He sets everything up carefully. It looks like he has all the professional equipment a nail salon would. I used to get my nails done a lot. I liked the way they made my hands look, and Max liked them done. Needless to say, I don’t do them anymore.
“Raven,” there’s a note of warning in Axel’s voice.
Power, Raven. He wants to feel like he has power. Controlling the way I look is one way he’ll do that.
Only I don’t want to give him that power. I’d rather rip my nails off than give him that power.
“Do you even know how to do nails?” I hope that reason will make him stop. Logic.
Axel shrugs. “Mom gets them done a lot. I’ve gone with her to a few appointments.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Like fuck do I want to let him get anywhere near me.
Axel just gets up slowly. “I take it you don’t like to be manhandled, Raven. So come over here so I don’t have to do that.”
No. No, no, no. The monster is peeking around the corner.
“Listen, I paid a good amount of money yesterday to figure out how to do this right. I’m sure they won’t be perfect, but I’ll practice.” Axel holds his hand out.
Play the game, Raven. Play the fucking game.
Axel takes a step toward me. He approaches slowly like I’m a wild animal.
“Sit.” His voice is soft, and he steps behind me, gently pushing me to the chair. I drop into it, and Axel pulls his chair close to mine, facing me. I only snap out of it when his thighs settle on either side of my knees.
“What are you doing?” I jump, trying to shift back.
“Getting ready?” He shifts slightly so his legs aren’t touching mine and looks at me, then goes back to arranging the stuff on the table. I pick at my fingers, keeping them on my lap.
If I let him have the control he wants, will he let down his guard? I both love and hate that idea. I don’t want to have to play into his delusions. I thought the chapter on ‘pleasing a man so he doesn’t hurt me’ was over. But I also want something, anything, to go my way.
Then, a disturbing thought fills my head. If I flirt with him, will he fold?
Axel leans over the table to grab something, and my eyes are drawn to the muscles I can see under his shirt and his trim waist.
Fucking hell.
My right thumb still hurts. I glance down at it. It’s swollen up since yesterday at the joint where my thumb meets my hand.
“What do you want?” Axel pushes some muted colors my way. “I can’t do crazy designs yet, but I’ll try.”
My throat feels dry. He’s picked an array of dark jewel tones and blacks. Almost like he knows I always used to do my nails black.
“Black?” he asks.
I can barely swallow.
Axel squints and pulls a black polish toward himself. “Black would look nice on you.” Then he motions at me. “Hands?”
It feels like my hand is encased in cement when I try to move it. I battle with my own muscles, feeling the loss of control like it’s being yanked from my body.
Axel just reaches across the table and grabs my left hand gently, pulling it toward him, his fingers warm and soft on my skin. He leans in, squinting, then gets to work clipping the nails down.
He’s close, much closer than anyone in a salon, and I can feel his breath puff across my skin as he chews his gum and focuses on my hand.
I don’t say anything. I refuse to talk. Axel doesn’t seem to notice though, and his brows are furrowed in concentration.
I watch carefully as he takes each tool, buffing down my nails and then matching the acrylic nails to the ends of my fingers.
Instead of asking for my other hand, he fixates on the one he has, sometimes muttering to himself.
He’s surprisingly gentle, holding each finger with just enough pressure to position it the way he wants.
Axel looks up at me. “How long do you want them?”
I shift. “Doesn't matter.”
“Sure it does.” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I may be a man, but I know length matters.”
I stare at him. Did he just make a dick joke?
Axel just winks at me. “How long, sugar?”
I don’t know how to answer without picking a fight. I notice his thighs have started pressing against mine again, and it’s sending warmth through my whole body.
“My mom used to love to get her nails done,” Axel says softly. “We couldn’t afford it for the longest time, but when R—when things changed, she’d get them done every three weeks and would always make us admire the designs she got.”
I stare at him. I wouldn't have guessed he grew up in a low-income household from the way he and his brother live now, but things can change.
Axel trims my nails to the length I normally get them with a rounded point at the end. Either he has a really good intuition, or he’s been watching me.
Goosebumps run down my arms.
Axel grabs the powder, applying it to a few of my nails before he puts my hand down, laughing slightly. “Oh yeah, the other hand.” He motions for it.
I don’t want to give it over. It hurts.
Axel makes an impatient motion with his hand.
He hasn’t hurt me so far, but I’ve also just given in to him with no fight.
“Say please,” I say, intending for it to come out mean, but my voice is dry, and it comes out husky.
Axel’s gaze snaps to mine, and my face flushes, realizing it sounded like I was flirting with him.
I almost back down, but his pupils dilate.
Axel’s eyes bounce between mine, and then he huffs out a laugh, looking down at my hand.
That gaze flicks back up at me, arresting me from behind his glasses. “Please?”
Axel’s gaze pulls me in like a magnetic force. He looks at me like he sees me with more than his eyes. He’s also unfairly attractive. If I didn’t realize what an ass he is, in another life, I’d actually flirt with him.
Slowly, I give Axel my hand.
When he touches it, electricity buzzes up my skin. Then, he brushes my thumb, and the slight motion makes a bolt of pain hit me. I hiss, pulling my hand back.
Axel lets my hand slide out of his. “What?”
It’s too late, and I realize that I’ve shown weakness. “Uh, sorry.” I give my hand back. “You shocked me.”
Axel narrows his eyes at me, sliding his hand down mine and grasping my wrist. He pulls me closer to him, his grip gentle but firm, and his legs tighten around me. I try to pull away, but it’s like pulling against a wall.
“You’re hurt.” He flips my hand over, looking at it. “What happened?”
“It’s fine.” I try to yank back again, but Axel holds me firm.
“It’s swollen.”
“It’s seriously fine.” The attention makes me uncomfortable. Why the hell is he pretending to care? Does it make him feel better about himself?
“It’s not fine; it looks pretty bad.” Axel frowns. “Was this from the dresser?”
I didn’t tell him I punched the window. “Yeah,” I say.
“Jesus, did you get your thumb caught in it?”
I just shrug.
“We need to put ice on it.” I watch him for signs of dishonesty, but I don’t see any. There’s no slight smirk or excited glint in his eye.
Dad only cared if I got visibly hurt because he was afraid he’d get caught. That must be why Axel’s upset.
But ice does sound nice. The skin is swollen and throbbing.
Axel moves to the fridge, and immediately, I feel the loss of his warmth. He comes back with a pack and holds it to my skin.
Axel runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck. I didn’t know you were hurt.”
I wait for him to beg for my forgiveness. To tell me he forgave me for losing my shit. To ask me to be friends with him again.
Only he doesn’t. He just stands there, running his hands through his hair. “How bad is it? Do we need to get it looked at?”
I start to brush it off like I’ve always done, then pause.
Did he just… ask if I need to get it looked at?
“I, uh…”
I wait for him to say sike. To change his mind.
But he doesn’t.
“It, uh… actually does hurt pretty bad.” I pull my hand down into my lap for effect.
“Do you think it’s broken?” Axel’s gaze tightens.
“No!” If it’s broken, he’ll be more mad. I have to play this just right. “No, I mean, I don’t think so.”
Axel lets out a breath, visibly relaxing. “Okay, then. Sprains heal on their own.”
Oh shit. Is he going to rescind his offer to get help? I quickly say, “It’s just… I felt something snap.”
Axel runs a hand down his face. “Snap?” He lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. Okay. You have your shoes on?” He looks down at my feet. I haven’t actually taken them off yet. Or any of my clothes.
“Okay. It’s cold.” He moves to the living room, grabbing two coats. I watch him numbly. Is this really going to work?
“Bring the ice.” He motions at the pack on the table. I grab it, and Axel throws the coat over my shoulders. It’s a pink women’s coat, and I frown at it.
Axel gets red. “Sometimes women… leave things here.” He darts to the couch to grab his.
Oh, awesome. I didn’t need to know that, and it kinda pisses me off.
I glare at him, but he just ushers me outside to the car. To my car.
A feeling of freedom fills my chest. My car. I can drive. Then, when he steps away, I can tell the doctor what's going on. That Axel’s been keeping me against my will.
Axel gets in on the other side, and I clutch the ice pack to my hand with my half-done nails. Fuck, this is actually going to work! For once, I get my hopes up.
Axel gives me directions, and I follow them. I’m almost out of gas, but I think I’ll have enough to get to the hospital. Maybe? I’ve never had to go to the hospital here. Never needed it, plus it’s too expensive even if I did.
We drive through neighborhoods for longer than I thought we did to get here. But maybe Axel’s taking me the back way.
Then, things start to look familiar, and my heart starts to pick up.
No way. He isn’t…
I look around and realize we’re not at a hospital. We’re on Gage’s street.