Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Idon’t move, because I’m afraid if I do, she’ll stop touching me. And that’s the last thing I want. One hand holds my arm still as she wipes the orange shit all over my open wound. Stings like a fucking bitch. I keep it in, though. No way am I letting her know that she’s hurting me.
“Okay, that’s a bit better, I guess,” she says, discarding the last ball of cotton into the trash bin next to the sink.
“Thanks,” I grunt, clearing my throat. I pick up the needle that I already threaded. This isn’t the first time I’ve stitched myself up. Won’t be the last either.
“What happened?” Hayley asks, watching as I push the needle through my skin.
“I got stabbed,” I tell her.
“With a knife?” Her eyes widen.
“Yes.” I grit my teeth as I continue tugging the wound closed.
“Who would be stupid enough to try to stab you?”
I smirk. “I have no idea. He was there to kill someone else.”
“Stop. You can’t tell me these things, August.” Hayley holds up a hand, and I shrug.
“You asked.”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to tell me.” She looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
“I don’t lie, Hayley. If you ask a question, make sure you really want to know the answer, because I will tell you.” I have no reason to lie, and honestly, I consider it a sign of weakness.
“You’re making a mess of that. Give it to me.”
She snatches the needle and thread from my hand, and I watch her face as she concentrates on my wound. The needle goes through and then through again. She does some weird things with the stitch that closes the wound tighter than I could do myself.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to stitch.”
“I don’t, but I do sew-in weaves. Figured it can’t be too different. Also, the thought of causing you pain isn’t unappealing.” She smiles up at me as she pushes the needle through my skin again.
I maintain my composure, even though it still hurts. “I’m not really into that kind of kink, but for you, I’d give it a go.” I wink and watch her cheeks turn a nice shade of red.
It’s good to know she’s not completely unaffected by me. Because standing this close to her, having her hands touch me, has my cock fucking hard. I’m glad she’s focused on my arm and not somewhere south, because there is no hiding the way my sweats are tented.
“Ew.” Hayley scrunches up her face. “Never going to happen.”
“Never say never, Hayley,” I tell her. Because by the end of these two weeks, I will have her in my bed. Squirming beneath me and begging me to fill her cunt.
The needle pushes in deeper, and I flinch. That fucking hurt. When she smiles up at me again, I know she did that on purpose.
“There. All done,” she says with a sweet voice that goes straight to my dick. She washes her hands and then walks out of the bathroom.
After cleaning up and covering the wound with another piece of gauze, I find Hayley in the living room digging through her bag.
“Looking for something?” I ask her.
“My sanity, because surely I’ve lost it,” she replies, and I laugh.
“Pretty sure you’ve still got plenty of that, babe.” I turn and head into the kitchen.
“It’s Hayley, not babe. I am not your babe!” she yells at me.
“For the next two weeks, you are,” I yell back. I don’t get it. Any other woman would be jumping at the chance to play my fake anything. Not her, though.
I take out ingredients and start chopping a variety of vegetables to make omelets for us.
When Hayley walks into the kitchen, she looks from the counter up to my face. “Do you not own shirts?”
“Why? Is my nakedness distracting you?” My lips tilt up. Knowing how much she likes my body, I decided not to put a shirt on. I caught her looking. I want her to keep looking.
“More like it makes me queasy. What are you doing?” She gestures to the counter.
“Making breakfast.”
“Vegetables are not breakfast,” she tells me.
“They are when they’re in an omelet,” I tell her.
“Do you have any cereal? Lucky Charms? Froot Loops? Reese’s Puffs?”
I shake my head and laugh. “Those are not cereal, Hayley. They’re just sugar.”
“The boxes say they’re cereal, so… I’m taking that as a: no, you don’t have actual breakfast food?” She sits on the stool opposite me. “Do you have coffee?”
“I have coffee.” I move to the other side of the kitchen and turn on the machine. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I keep it on the rare occasion I do indulge.
I also make a mental note to stock the pantry with that sugary shit she calls cereal. I won’t touch it, but if that’s what she wants to eat, I’m going to make sure she has it available.
“You’ll like this,” I tell her. “Trust me. It’s good for you.”
“You know what else is good for me?” Hayley says.
I stop what I’m doing and look over at her.
“Not being held captive by a devil god.”
“One, you’re not being held captive. The door is right there. You are here of your own free will. I’m not the kind of guy who forces women to do anything. Second, devil god?” I smirk.
I knew she liked me. Or at the very least, she likes my body and that’s all I need.
“If I leave, what happens to Riley? He said you were going to cut his fingers off.” Hayley scowls at me.
“He was selling shit in my club, Hayley. Trust me, he’s getting off lightly with just the fingers.”
“I’m not letting you cut off my little brother’s fingers,” she says.
“Still a choice.” I lift a shoulder. “Still not forcing you.”
“Is it, though? He’s my responsibility. I have to look out for him,” she says.
“Where are your parents?” The kid is barely eighteen. He should be living at home with his parents. But the moment I ask the question, I regret it. Hayley’s eyes water up and her face drops.