10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
The Hound
A door creaks open at four-thirty, and the sound of a whimper outside of my room sends me shooting up out of bed. I can’t tell who or what it is, but I crack my bedroom door open anyway.
I peer down to see Cash’s big brown eyes gazing up at me. “What?”
He whines more audibly, throwing a paw at the door. His nails striking the wood pierce the silence and cause me to wince. He’ll wake the whole damn house up.
“You want in my room or something?” I swing the door the rest of the way open, but he doesn’t go in, anxiously lingering in the threshold. He whines again, and then runs to the bathroom door across the hall, peering back at me with an urgency I’ve only seen from a dog in movies. “What? Do you use the toilet in there or something?” I laugh at my own joke, and then freeze. The light beneath the bathroom door casts a soft glow against the floor.
Is she back already? Is it Henry? Is someone sick?
I glance at Henry’s door, still shut at the end of the hallway. Cash whines again at me. Reluctantly, I approach him, and then reach for the doorknob. However, I stop myself as a muffled cry pierces the silence. My heart picks up its pace, and I slowly turn the knob, pushing the door inward. I should’ve knocked, but for some reason, it doesn’t even cross my mind.
My jaw drops at the sight of Cher leaned over the sink in just her black bra and thong. The white ceramic is smattered with blood. Purple bruises line her shoulders, jaw and thighs, tainting her porcelain skin.
“Cher...” My voice wavers with uncertainty. “What... happened? ”
She freezes, apparently not having heard the question part. She shuts the water off, and grabs for the hand towel, blotting the blood still coming from her mouth. And then, she looks at me.
My heart fucking shatters in my chest at the sight of pain in her eyes. “Who did this to you?”
She shakes her head. “Just go away.”
“I can get Henry for you,” I offer, choosing not to be an asshole in the moment. She doesn’t need an asshole. She’s clearly already had one.
And I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve fucking stopped it.
Fury funnels through my core as I realize my mistake—my choice to let her walk away instead of following her the rest of the way up. I could’ve been there for her. I could’ve saved her from... this.
“Don’t get my brother,” she snaps at me, though her voice is muffled. “The last thing I need is him playing the hero. I chose this tonight. It’s none of your business.”
I narrow my gaze. “You chose this? What are you, a masochist?”
“No,” she actually laughs, shaking her head. “Though if I was, I’d be having one hell of an orgasm right now.” However, the laughter fades as she meets her own eyes in the mirror. Disgust penetrates the glass.
“Can I see?” I take a step forward as she spits more blood into the sink.
She side-eyes me warily. “What? You get off on blood or something?”
If it’s yours, maybe.
“You must have a hell of a cut in your mouth,” I say instead, but she still stiffens as I close the distance, seeing the deep, nearly black bruising across her jaw. “I just want to help you—nothing else.”
She bristles, glaring at me from behind tortured irises. “What if I don’t want your help?”
I gently tip her chin back to get a better view, challenging her hate for me with softness. “But what if my help is exactly what you need? What if I can stop the bleeding?”
Her dark lashes flutter. “Impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible,” I chuckle. “Open up.”
She shakes her head as something dark flashes across her expression. “ No .”
I study her for a few beats. I triggered her somehow—so I try again. “In order to stop the bleeding, you have to open your mouth.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“Your brother’s had some incidents over the years.”
Her upper lip curls upward just enough to show a hint of a smile. “He’s an idiot.”
“Sometimes.” I gently press my thumb down on her bottom lip, and at first, she tenses, but then parts her lips for me. Her eyes stay trained on my face as I peer inside, seeing the gash on her inner cheek. “It’s not all that bad.”
I reach for the linen closet behind her, and she flinches. I catch my breath, glancing down at her. She’s watching me carefully with wide eyes, almost appearing frightened.
“Just getting something for you to apply pressure with,” I explain, grabbing a washcloth from the stack. “You need to press this to the wound inside of your mouth for a solid fifteen minutes. It should stop the bleeding. You must’ve cut your mouth when you got hit in the face.”
She doesn’t argue with me as I help her line it up on the wound. My fingers guide hers to the right place, and it takes everything I have to focus on the task at hand—and not the fact she’s half-naked or that her skin is so soft. I haven’t taken advantage of the view, and with the way she’s watching me like a hawk, I won’t.
I won’t be that guy. My fingers retreat from the sizzling warmth of hers.
“I won’t tell Henry about this,” I say with a sigh as I start cleaning up, wondering just how far the asshole from the club got with her. I hope he didn’t get his dick wet. I hope he choked on his own tongue and died.
I’ll ruin him. I’ll figure out who he is, and I’ll fucking explode his life.
I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. You don’t have to murder someone to destroy them. And when I’m finished, whoever did it will wish they were dead.
Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I pick up Cher’s jeans and top, spotting the rip down the front. I shut my eyes, seeing red for a moment. I want to interrogate her. I want to know everything that happened so I can do something about it right now. But I can’t do that. She needs to keep applying pressure.
Cher leans against the counter as I pick it all up, tossing the clothes straight into the trash. Her brows raise.
I shrug at her. “You’re not keeping these. I’ll buy you replacements.” I grab for the soiled towel and clean up the rest of the blood, rinsing the pink watery mixture down the sink. “Fucking asshole. ”
She squeaks.
I look up at her. And I realize she’s trying not to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Her shoulders bob up and down. “ Right, you can’t talk.” I finish wiping down the counter, trying to ignore her inked skin inches from mine. She’s beautiful and soft, curvy...and broken.
I could put her back together.
Pursing my lips, I toss the notion out with the dirty towel. I straighten up, catching sight of my shirtless self in the mirror. There’s no ink on my skin. Nothing to set me apart from any other guy. My hair is a wreck from restless sleep and my black sweatpants hang off my hips.
Though, I am glad I’ve been hitting the gym. I’ve always been self-conscious of my overly lanky frame, but it’s transformed in the last year with heavy weights and loads of protein. I rake my fingers through my hair...
And catch Cher’s eyes running over me in a way that heats up my core.
Ignore it.
I blow out a heavy sigh and glance down at the clock situated in the corner. “Time’s almost up.”
She nods. Like a good girl. My cock stirs to life, and my mind threatens to let loose with fantasy. I imagine her soft moans in my ear. I’d want to hear her voice the whole time.
“Done?” Cher mutters in a hardly coherent jumble.
I turn my attention back to her, and approach, reaching for her hand inside of her mouth. She stumbles backward suddenly, startled by my advance.
“Easy,” I reach for her other arm, catching her elbow and steadying her. “Don’t need any more bruises. Henry’s going to have questions.” She nods but remains stiff in my grip. I brush my fingers across her skin, guiding hers to remove the blood-soaked towel. Much to my relief, the bleeding has stopped. “You’ll still have to be careful with it.”
“Okay,” she whispers, and for the first time, she’s not malicious. She’s also not fake. She’s just... her. Beautifully scarred her.
And it makes my cock go rigid, moving everything inside of me.
“I’m just going to throw this away,” I choke out, removing the washcloth from her hand. “I don’t know what kind of mess you got into, but it’s better to just discard evidence.”
“You act like I killed someone.” Her words catch me off guard, the tone off kilter once again.
I toss the towel into the trash and meet her gaze. “Did you?”
“No,” she answers flatly.
Shaking my head, I grab the bag from the trashcan. “Good, then the only one who could press charges is you.”
Cher doesn’t say anything as she reaches over and starts the shower. My hands begin to sweat as she turns her back to me, unhooking her bra and tossing it to the floor.
“Did he touch that?” My eyes slide over the rose vines across her back and then drop to the brazier on the floor.
“Yes.”
“I’m throwing it away, too.” I reach down and pluck up the lace, my body burning with desire for the woman almost naked in front of me—but I’m also irrevocably infuriated at the thought of that guy touching her.
She’s not yours.
But I can’t stop myself. “Did he touch anything else?”
“He tried,” she says softly, and then slides her underwear down to just above her knees. She hesitates, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Can you help me?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is she toying with me?
I swallow the knot in my throat and set the trash sack down. My fingers go for the soft material, but I’m careful not to touch her skin. I’m so fucking close to her bare body that it’s damn near the worst torture I’ve ever faced. “Step out.” I keep my gaze on her feet, feeling her eyes on me the entire time.
She’s testing me.
And because of that, I never look up. I’ll prove I’m trustworthy. I tug her underwear down to her ankles, aching to see so much more but ignoring it. She places a hand on my shoulder, and one foot at a time, she steps out, digging her black toenails into the fuzzy plush of the matching black rug.
I’m left with just her underwear and my cock nearly explodes as I fist the material that touched her , pressed against her most private place. I want to touch her. I’ve never been so jealous of scrap of fabric. I want all of her. I want every fucking one of her holes. And I don’t want to share. I nearly snarl at the thought of her being wet because of someone else.
“Thank you.” Her voice comes out as fragile, grateful even, shearing through my moment of internal turmoil.
I nod and swallow hard, shoving the underwear into the trash sack with everything else. “Of course.” I slowly stand erect again, and her hand that was on my shoulder trails down my arm. I fight the urge to look, but I keep my eyes on the wall, away from her naked body.
She’s not yours to look at.
If she told me she was, I’d devour her. I’d take control. I’d give her everything she never knew she wanted.
But I won’t even look at what’s not mine—and that drives me away from her.
“You should get some rest,” I mumble, spinning away toward the exit and heading for the bathroom door. “You need it.”
Fuck, I need it.