Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

A ngel heard the gunshot but did not let go of the Python between her thighs. Because these thugs could only be Pythons, despite their lack of cuts. Her eyes flew to Bree, who was now on the floor of Patrick's room. Shock hit Angel as she realized the gun was in Bree's hands. Her daughter held the weapon true as the brute she'd been fighting off with jars and her cellphone collapsed to the floor.

The thug between Angel's legs started to lose consciousness as she continued to apply pressure to his trachea. Her arms shook from the strength it took to hold herself up. As soon as she and Bree were safe, she was ripping these fucking light fixtures out of her walls.

The Python lost consciousness, but Angel held on. If she let go now, he could regain consciousness. He was still a threat to Bree. Angel did not take taking a life lightly. But for Bree, for her daughter? She did so gladly.

The Python with the eyepatch was shot in the gut, but he was still alive. There was even a chance he could live if he got medical attention immediately.

The kid, the one who had made a fake appointment with Angel for a tattoo consult, came running into the room. He did not have a gun and Bree, the smart girl that she was, turned hers on him from her position on the floor. Angel wondered if Bree did it because she recognized that the boy was currently the bigger threat or if it was out of reflex.

"Cut my mom down," Bree ordered.

"Wait." Angel needed another minute to ensure her Python was dead. "Get the rope and tie their hands." When the boy stood there frozen, Angel snapped, "Do it!"

The boy rushed to the tote bag the Pythons had brought with them and grabbed out more rope. He went to the bleeding Python on the floor first. The man tried to mumble or order him to do something, but the boy ignored the man. With trembling hands, he tied the man's wrists together.

As he approached Angel, she saw his eyes land on her unclothed body. Angel refused to think about what had almost happened. Despite her fight, the two men had gotten her pants unbuttoned and were pulling them down her legs when the one with the eyepatch had seen Bree with her phone. Her sports bra and boy short panties were all that kept her decent at the moment.

If she wasn't currently holding herself up by her fingers, she would have snapped them at him. "Hey," she scolded. "Eyes up, boy."

Even with Bree holding a gun to him, Angel did not trust him. The kid, despite his young age, had been about to participate in a gang-rape. It didn't matter that he was only the lookout and likely would not have been part of the act itself. From her point of view, that was almost worse. Knowing about it and not doing anything to stop it.

The kid tied up the Python's hands, even though Angel was fairly certain he was already dead between her thighs. As soon as the man's hands were secure, Angel let him drop. Her arms and legs were screaming at her, but she ignored the pain.

"Cut me down." She used her commanding voice, one that she'd picked up in the military. The boy scrambled to find a pair of scissors or a knife. Angel kept one eye on him as she turned towards Bree.

There were so many things she wanted to say to her daughter then, but she didn't. She needed Bree to be strong a few minutes longer. Once she was free, Bree did not need to be.

The boy was tall and did not need a step stool or ladder to reach the ropes binding her to that damn light fixture.

"Carefully," Angel cautioned him, "or she shoots."

Thankfully, the boy did not look back at Bree and see her worried look. Instead, he believed Angel's warning and started to saw his way through her bondage. As soon as she felt slack in the rope, Angel wrenched her arms apart and broke the remaining connections herself.

Not the typical woman, Angel's first move once free was not to cover herself. She held her hand out for the pair of scissors like she wasn't standing half dressed, battered, and bruised. The kid handed them over. She could see the shame and the fear on his young face.

That did not make her hook to the side of his jaw any lighter.

The kid's eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped like a ton of bricks.

Angel rushed over to Bree. She pulled her pants up enough to run properly but did not take the time to close them. She pulled the gun out of Bree's trembling hands. With one arm training the gun back on the tied unconscious, dead, or bleeding men in the room, she pulled Bree against her with the other.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Bree clung to Angel's open shirt. She nodded against her chest but did not speak.

The sound of a loud crash rang out from the front of the store as heavy boots thudded on the floor of her shop. Angel threw Bree to the floor and fell back on top of her, the muzzle of her gun trained on the open doorway before her.

Cage stared up at the ceiling of his clubhouse apartment. When he'd first come to Mount Grove, he'd loved this room. He was a simple man with simple needs, but damn did he enjoy having a room to himself. There was no privacy in the military. Especially on the submarines he'd served on.

Over the past year, though, Cage had come to hate this room. It wasn't where he wanted to be. It wasn't where he wanted to sleep.

You are not and never will be Bree's father.

Cage flinched at Angel's harsh words. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be pining away for a single mom with an amazingly strong teenage daughter, that he wanted to be a father, he'd have laughed his ass off. But now?

He wasn't sure when his feelings for Angel had started. He'd always found her to be passionate, stubborn, and so fucking sexy there were times when Cage couldn't breathe around her. There was something so tantalizing about strong women, but it was more than that. It was how she held herself, how she never hid who she was. She wasn't pretty in a Hollywood, model sort of way. It was more of an internal beauty that flowed from her confidence and her swagger.

Fuck, he could look at her ass all day long.

Despite being a unisex club, there was nothing in the bylaws that prohibited dating between members. The only bylaw regarding sex was restricting the prospects from being able to sleep with the Honeys. Only patched members got to do that.

Cage ignored his phone when he heard it ring. Angel should be home by now and Cage meant to go see her. He didn't want to interrupt Bree and Angel's dinner, so he'd been waiting until after eight to head over. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone else.

Hell, most of the men on his construction crew had been steering clear of him over the past two days. Cage considered himself to be a good boss, but he certainly wasn't acting like it this week.

He understood that Angel had been sick and feverish when she'd said those hurtful things to him. He was too much of a man to cry about it, but that didn't stop the heartache. Fuck, he was pathetic.

His phone rang again.

Cage pulled it from his pocket with the intention of throwing it across the room, but stopped when he saw it was Steel who was calling him.

"Damnit," he cursed. Then he answered the call.

Fear made him drive faster than he ever had before. He weaved his way through the small-town traffic and flew down Main Street, ignoring their single red light. He saw the flashing red and blue lights outside of the tattoo shop and thought his heart was going to burst right out of his chest.

His hog skidded to a stop and he didn't even bother to set the kickstand. He let it fall as he ran past the police officers and paramedics and into the shop. His eyes landed on his girls, and he let out a choking gasp.

Bree was in her chair with a blanket over her shoulders and one on her lap. She had a nasty bruise on the side of her left temple and a bandage on her arm. Bulldog was kneeling down next to her, holding her securely to his large chest. Cage saw the tears running down Bree's cheeks and had never wanted to kill someone so much in his life.

Angel stood next to Steel at the counter. She had a split lip and multiple bruises on her face. As she pointed to something for Steel, Cage saw the rope burns on her wrists. Rage made him start to shake and tremble.

Angel turned back towards Steel, but her eyes caught Cage's. Did anyone else see the fear in her eyes or did they only see the fury? Cage saw it. Both she and Bree were alive, but he knew that there'd been a moment, maybe even more than one, when Angel had believed they would not survive.

That fear nearly broke Cage.

Never again. She could fight him, she could say all the mean and harsh things she wanted to. Hell, she could even throw his promiscuous reputation back in his face. He didn't care.

Angel was his —and she was about to discover it.

Cage stormed over to where Angel and Steel were standing. Since Angel's shirt had been ruined, one of the guys had given her one of their undershirts. She wasn't sure who. Everything from when the VDMC had stormed the tattoo shop to now was a bit of a blur.

Steel had been prepared to cover the whole thing up and allow the VDMC to handle justice, but Angel had insisted on an ambulance being called for Bree since neither Bear nor Tessa was present. She did not want to waste time with hiding the bodies or making a cover story. Steel had, of course, agreed. Vengeance was not worth his niece's wellbeing.

The thug Angel had taken down was indeed dead; she had crushed his trachea. The one Bree had shot was currently on his way to the hospital with a police escort. The punk kid Angel had knocked out was now bound and gagged in the trunk of her Traverse. It was the one place the club could put him on such short notice. With Bree not needing to go to the hospital, they would need to find a new place to put him, as she was not driving her daughter home with her bound attacker in the trunk of the cage.

Angel was explaining to Steel what happened while Bulldog kept watch over Bree. The two of them had gotten closer since the start of Bree and Cassie's friendship.

The look of anger on Cage's face did not match the triumph in his eyes. He looked like he'd singlehandedly won the Super Bowl and was pissed about it.

Angel opened her mouth to ask him what the hell his problem was, but he got to her first. He pulled her flush against his chest and kissed her in front of God, her daughter, and their Via Daemonia brothers.

The fear that had been plaguing her since that first Taser jolt of electricity finally vacated her system. Relief that both she and her daughter were alive replaced it, along with a sense of rightness. Cage was kissing her, claiming her, in front of everyone. This was not some fling to him. He might as well have taken out a billboard ad. It probably would have been less subtle.

Angel clung to him. Her anger at him seemed so petty now.

Cage pulled away, resting their foreheads together. She gripped his shirt under his cut, wishing they were alone, that she wasn't so sore and covered in bruises, that there wasn't a Taser burn on her back that was throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

"Fuck, sweetness, don't scare me like that." Cage had his arms wrapped around her shoulders, one hand in her hair on the back of her head.

A tear escaped her eye. "Wasn't exactly on my evening plans."

Cage lifted his head to press his lips to her forehead. "I meant what I said. I mean to prove you wrong, and I am a one-woman kind of guy—so long as that woman is you."

A shiver ran down her. Her grip on his shirt tightened. "How exactly do you plan on proving me wrong, Cage? By taking me out on a date?"

He chuckled, not picking up on or ignoring her sarcasm. "For starters."

For some reason, his words made a gasp of laughter escape her. "We'll see."

Cage stood up straight and took her face between his hands. "You will see. I mean it, sweetness. You're mine."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not wearing a cut that says I'm the property of Cage."

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Fine. I'll wear one claiming I'm the property of Angel." He kissed her softly. "And I'll be proud of it."

Angel's shock was interrupted by the squeak of Bree's chair as she approached them. Though her wheelchair had handles so she could be pushed, she did not like to be. Bulldog stayed where he was. Angel also noticed that Steel had stepped away. The other patched members who had come running at Bree's SOS text were keeping their distance as well.

Angel knew, though, that they would have stepped in between Cage and Angel in a heartbeat if she gave a hint of not being receptive to his kiss. She could fend for herself, but they also wouldn't allow her to have to.

Cage knelt down in front of Bree. He reached up and gently touched the bruise growing on the side of her head from when she'd tipped over her wheelchair. "Look at you, kidney buddy. Are you okay?"

She nodded but her tears still flowed freely. Angel reached forward and gripped her hand. Bree squeezed it back tightly.

"I hear you saved the day," Cage commended the teen. "Saved your mom. I owe you for that." He cupped the side of her face. "I'm so proud of you."

Bree's chin trembled. "I tried to be brave. I tried to remember everything you guys taught me."

Angel went to answer but Cage got there first. "You were as brave as you needed to be, sweetheart. You did everything right, and I don't even know the full story of what happened." Bree shivered and Cage moved to tighten the blanket around her shoulders. "I know this isn't the right time to say this, but I kinda need to ask your permission to ask your mom out on a date. She won't say yes until we have your blessing."

Bree's eyes flew to Angel's. Angel was surprised that she didn't see hurt or betrayal in her daughter's eyes. There was still fear and concern, but mostly happiness. Had Angel been wrong about Bree's crush on Cage?

"Do you want to go out with him?" she asked Angel.

Angel found herself nodding. "Yeah." Then she looked down at herself. The paramedics had cleaned her up but she didn't feel clean. "Just not tonight."

The three of them chuckled together.

Bree turned back to Cage. "You can take her out. But," she added with vehemence, "if you hurt her, I will shoot you too."

Cage smiled widely at her. "You have my word, Bree, that I'll never hurt her. And, if I do, I'll stand still for the firing squad, because you won't be the only one aiming to turn me into Swiss cheese."

Bree nodded once. "Damn straight." Then she pointed a finger at Angel. "I get a pass from having to pay into the swear jar today."

Angel laughed. "Fair enough." She reached over and brushed the tears from Bree's cheeks. "Where did you learn to shoot anyway?"

Bree grinned proudly. "From Uncle Bulldog and Uncle Steel. They say I'm a good shot."

Recalling the bleeding Python on the floor of Patrick's room, Angel let out a snort. "A very good shot." She looked over to where Bulldog and Steel were standing, both looking slightly sheepish that they had not discussed giving Bree firearm lessons with Angel first. As she narrowed her eyes at them, Angel said grudgingly to Bree, "Remind me to thank them."

She felt Cage's hand at her back. "I need to get the two of you home." Cage nodded towards her wrists. "Have you been looked at by the paramedics?"

Angel nodded. "They're just friction burns. They didn't break my skin. I wanted to shower before I wrapped them up for the night."

Cage ran the pad of his thumb gently over her split lip. "I plan on looking over all of your injuries myself. Very thoroughly."

Angel gave him a wicked smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Ew, guys! Remember me? Your child?"

Angel winced and then looked innocently at Bree. "Oops."

The teen rolled her eyes.

Carlos, who was acting sheriff, allowed Cage to take Bree and Angel home. Bulldog had one of the prospects bring a VDMC SUV to the tattoo shop. Steel distracted the cops by bringing their attention to the broken backdoor and the failed alarm while Will and Bulldog quickly swapped which trunk the Python prospect was stored in.

Angel didn't fight Cage when he insisted on driving. She recalled the day he'd shown up at the hospital with the new cage. They still hadn't talked—really talked—since she'd shot him down in the hospital bathroom. Even though it had been close to a month since then, the awkwardness had been fresh enough that Angel had not been the kindest towards him, despite all he had done for her and Bree.

He'd taken her hand and forced the keys into them. "Just take the fucking gift, Angel."

It did not pass her notice that he had not called her ‘sweetness' since the day he'd walked out of Bree's hospital room before they'd known he was Bree's kidney match.

Not until last week. The night she'd lost her baby. That had been the first time in nearly a year that he'd called her ‘sweetness'.

As Cage got Bree's wheelchair strapped down in the back and her seatbelt on, Angel felt a pang of her earlier depression. She was beyond elated that both she and Bree had walked away from the Pythons' attack nearly unscathed. Bruises and cuts would heal. The utter fear that she might not be able to protect her daughter… That would take longer to get over.

Her happiness that they were alive and well, though, was tainted. It didn't stop the sorrow that she'd had a miscarriage only a week ago.

Angel's phone was non-stop ringing with notifications from the ol' ladies. She told them to give her some time to get Bree situated and then she would reach out to them. She asked that they not show up at her house until she was ready for them.

As Cage got into the driver's seat, he reached for Angel's hand. She gave it.

They didn't talk on the ride back to club property. The cage's temperature was a little warmer than comfortable, but Bree kept shivering like she was cold. Shock, mixed with adrenaline leaving her system. Angel would call Tessa over before they were ready to go to bed. Bree would insist she was fine, but Angel would press anyway.

It wasn't until Cage pulled into Angel's driveway that she realized he must have left his hog at the tattoo shop. She hadn't seen him ask one of their brothers if they could take it back with them. He'd need it to get to work in the morning.

Looking at her front door, Angel wondered if Cage planned to spend the night. Was she ready for that? She'd agreed to a date, but she wasn't ready to have sex. Especially not tonight. Not after… And she was still on her period.

The weirdest thought entered her mind then. Would the fact that she was on her period and actively spotting have stopped those thugs from raping her? She didn't think so, but she also knew how much a woman's period wigged some guys out.

Angel shook her head. She did not want to think about any of that. She needed a shower, a drink, and sleep. She also needed to make sure Bree was okay. She'd been holding herself together so well, but what they'd just gone through had to have brought back the horrors of her past. Angel needed to call her therapist in the morning.

Glancing over her shoulder at her daughter, Angel amended that to calling her tonight. She had her cell number.

Cage assisted Bree out of the Traverse and down the ramp. Angel was surprised to feel unsteady on her legs as she made to get out. She had to grip the door handle to steady herself. Cage saw and made as if to help her, but Angel shook her head. She indicated silently that she wanted him to continue to help Bree.

He didn't look happy about it but didn't argue.

Bree reluctantly allowed Cage to push her up the ramp to their house. She didn't seem to want to detangle her arms from her blankets.

Angel followed behind more slowly. She amended her statement of needing a shower to needing a bath. She wasn't sure how much longer her legs were going to support her. Her left shoulder was screaming as she used that arm to close the cage's door. Her lower back and wrists were throbbing. Bree wasn't the only one suffering from an adrenaline crash.

Angel's house was smaller than the ones Lucky, Bear, and Bulldog had built. The biggest difference was that hers was only a single story, whereas all three of theirs were two story. Additionally, all of theirs had at least four bedrooms where hers only had three. Angel's bedroom was the master and had a standard bathroom with a tub, shower, and his-and-her sinks. Bree's bedroom did not have its own bathroom. The second bathroom was a modified bathroom that had a zero-point entry shower with a seat for her to transfer herself onto and a moveable shower head. Her bathroom had a lot of counter space with no under the counter cabinets. Her toilet also had a special padded seat and rails. Bree's bedroom, bathroom, and the kitchen were where the most modifications were noticeable.

Angel was halfway up the ramp when Cage came back outside to help her. She grumbled and protested as he picked her up bridal style.

"Quit your bitching. Snails were passing you on the sidewalk."

Angel leaned her head against his shoulder. "Asshole."

She loved feeling his chest rumble as he laughed. There was a lot that they still needed to talk about, but Angel was at least open and willing to have that talk now.

Bree was in the living room. Cage must have pushed her inside and gone immediately back outside for Angel. Still holding Angel, Cage said to both of them, "Tell me what the two of you need. Food, rest…?"

"Shower," they both said together.

Cage glanced between the two of them. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not sure either of you have that energy right now."

Angel scowled at him, but grudgingly admitted that he had a point. Furthermore, he could not help Bree shower. Neither Bree nor Cage would be comfortable with that. "Can you call Tessa or Jenna please? See if one of them can come over to help Bree."

Bree shook her head. "I can do it."

"Please," Angel insisted. "Both of us are worn out and, as much as I wish I could help you, I'm not even sure I can help myself right now. I don't want to risk you falling."

Cage started towards Angel's bedroom. "Let me put you down and then I'll get Bree situated until one of the ol' ladies gets here."

The gratitude Angel felt in that moment was immeasurable. He set her gently on the edge of her bed. When he went to walk away, Angel grabbed his arm and pulled him back down towards her. She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Never have to thank me for taking care of you."

After he left, Angel forced herself to her feet. She was tired and sore, but not an invalid. She stumbled her way into her bathroom to start the bath water. While she knew Epsom salt would help her sore muscles, she also knew better than to put salt into the water when she had open wounds.

Angel was getting herself undressed when she heard the front door open and close. It was a relief to know Cage was there, that she didn't need to immediately go and make sure that the person entering her house was welcome. Shame washed over her again at the cruel words she'd thrown at him only days before.

She used the toilet before getting into the tub. Angel laid back with an audible sigh. The burn wounds from the Taser protested at being submerged in the hot water, but Angel ignored it. The rest of her body was thrilled by the heat. She dipped a washcloth into the water to start cleaning herself.

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking and the washcloth kept slipping from between her fingers.

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that."

She looked up to see Cage standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his muscled chest.

"Pot, meet kettle," she countered.

He gave her a soft smile. Then he stood up off of the doorframe and walked into the bathroom. Reaching over his shoulder, he pulled his shirt off in one easy move. Her eyes landed appreciatively on his toned abs and tattoos—many of which she'd been the one to etch into his skin. That shouldn't have turned her on as much as it did.

She watched in silence as Cage unbuckled and unzipped his pants, letting them and his boxers fall to the floor. She didn't know when he'd taken his boots and socks off, but he was no longer wearing them now. Her eyes landed on his flaccid dick between his thick thighs.

As if her body had a mind of its own, Angel found herself moving forward as he approached the tub. He carefully maneuvered himself into the water and sat down behind her. He situated her between his legs but left space between her back and his chest. Taking the washcloth from between her hands, Cage started to scrub her back.

Angel swallowed nervously. She'd had sex plenty of times in her life. She liked sex and was not ashamed of that fact. However, bathing with a man was a whole new level of intimacy that she'd never experienced before. A shiver ran through her at his light touch.

"Cold?" His voice seemed deeper than normal.

Angel shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder at him and then blurted out, "You're not hard."

Rather than be embarrassed as she worried he would be, Cage let out a light chuckle. "No, I'm not."

Angel started to cover her chest with her arms. They slept together once a year ago. What if he no longer found her attractive? He was used to pretty girls with feminine bodies. Take away her bruises and cuts, Angel was still muscular and tall.

"Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking that has you crossing your arms over your boobs like that. You were just assaulted, nearly raped, and you're a walking bruise. Of course, I find you attractive, but I'm not so much a man-whore, as you once called me, that I am turned on by any of this."

Angel's arms slowly lowered back down. "Sorry about that," she mumbled. "The man-whore comment, I mean."

"You're not exactly wrong," Cage said. He started to move the cloth over her shoulders and down her right arm. He was careful not to touch her rope burns with the washcloth. "I have been a man-whore since losing my virginity to Delaney Vartabedian in ninth grade."

It did not surprise her in the slightest that he'd started having sex so young. "So what changed? Why are you so hellbent on dating me now?"

Cage cleared his throat. When he pulled back from her and she felt the washcloth leave her skin, Angel looked over her shoulder at him. To her surprise, his cheeks were pink. "After you blew me off at the hospital last year, I was a bit preoccupied with donating my kidney. As I told you, I was worried you'd only agree to date me out of appreciation for Bree. I tried to move on, tried to put you out of my head."

He looked down. "I met this girl at Demon's about six weeks ago."—Angel felt like her heart had plummeted into her stomach. She knew exactly the day and date he was referring to.—"It was going great, I think. She was giving all the right signals…" Cage shook his head. "I asked her back to my place." Angel suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest of this. "But as we were leaving, I saw you with the guys. You were laughing and having a great time.

"That's when I realized I didn't want to go back to my rooms and have anonymous sex with a girl I'd never see again. I wanted to be standing there with you, not just one of the guys but your guy. So I called for a ride and sent the girl on her way."

Angel's stomach rolled at his confession. He'd turned that girl down while she'd… Angel hung her head in shame. If he'd gone back inside the bar, he would have seen her sloppy drunk and with another man, her baby's sperm donor.

Splashing behind her caught her attention before Cage brought the cloth back to her skin. "Anyway, after that night, I decided then to work towards being a man you could be proud of, that you would want to be with."

Cage could feel Angel's body trembling beneath his touch. He knew she was crashing hard and he needed to pick up his pace before she fell asleep in the tub. He took note of every scratch, bruise, and burn on her body. He even let out a low growl when he saw the Taser burn on her lower back.

Steel had only told him the basics when he called, but Cage planned on getting every single fucking detail of what his girls had suffered through. And then…then the Pythons' world would burn.

After he helped her wash, Cage pulled her back against his chest and held her. It didn't take long before he felt her body start to tremble in a different way. She tried to muffle her sobs with a hand over her mouth.

Angel was the strongest woman he knew, but what she was going through had nothing to do with gender and everything to do with the trauma of what she'd just survived. Hell, Cage would be bawling out crying if he'd nearly been raped. It wasn't a concept that, as a man, he had to consider. It happened, and he knew that men were less likely to report a rape. Didn't make the reality of it any less terrifying.

He comforted her as best he could while letting her process as she needed to. Jenna hadn't hesitated to come over to assist Bree so he could help Angel. Cage was grateful for that, because he knew that Bree would not be comfortable with him helping her shower. While it would not have been easy for him, he would have done it. There would have been nothing sexual about doing it, but it would have been awkward. With Jenna here, Cage didn't have to leave Angel on her own to check on Bree or help her too.

When the water started to turn chilly, he reached over and pulled the plug up with his toes. The sound of the water draining caught her attention and Angel started to sit up more.

"Let's get you to bed." He kissed her damp hair. He liked that she was starting to grow it out more. "I'll make sure Bree and Jenna are situated and then come back."

Angel, though, shook her head. "I'm not up for that, Cage. I just want to sleep."

"I'm aware," he told her honestly. "And I just want to hold you while you sleep."

Still, Angel hesitated. "Not tonight."

Any other night and Cage would have argued, but she had a right to be alone after what she'd just been through. "All right," he nodded against her head. "I can respect that."

"Can we…" Angel cleared her throat. "Can we date before we jump back into bed? I just… I need to make sure that this is right."

Hurt gripped him. "Do you not trust?—"

"No!" Angel turned on the tub floor to face him. "No, it's not about trust, Cage. It's about Bree. If we move too fast, if we mess this up, it'll affect her as much as it will the two of us."

Cage could understand Angel's reservations and concerns but, damn, it still hurt that she thought there was a possibility they were going to mess this up. Because they both knew that she believed he would be the one to be doing the messing-upping.

Cage forced himself to nod. "We'll go at whatever pace you need to, sweetness."

Angel rolled her eyes. "You do not need to keep calling me that. I am not sweet."

Cage leaned forward and nipped at her earlobe. "Would you rather I call you ‘Sour Patch'? First you're sour," he kissed her throat, "then you're sweet."

Angel snorted and groaned. "You're aware that ‘Angel' is already a nickname, right?"

Cage lifted himself up to look her in the eyes. "If you think I don't know that, Selene Matthews, then you're crazy."

She made a face at her legal name. "That sounds so weird coming from you." Cage let out a laugh. "I'd say your name back at you but I can't actually pronounce it."

"Vasileios Georgiou," he said with a wide smile.

"Sounds like ‘Vaseline George-io'."

Cage snorted. "Yeah, legal names seem weird after having a road name for so long. Besides, no one but my mother calls me ‘Vasileios' anyway. I was ‘Vinny' most of my life."

Angel's nose crinkled. "‘Vinny'? That's even worse!"

Cage leaned backwards, spreading his arms along the outside of the tub and spoke in a deep Greek that he usually masked, " Eísai pio ómorfi apó óla ta astéria mazí. "

Angel swallowed hard. Her eyes traveled down his naked torso and to his cock, which was starting to rise to the occasion now that the tension in the room had lessened. "What, um, what does that mean?"

Cage smiled wickedly. "I'll tell you one day."

"I didn't know you spoke Greek."

He nodded. "Fluent in Greek and French. Both were spoken frequently, depending on which household we were visiting for the summer."

Angel tipped her head to the side. "It just occurred to me that I know nothing about your home life."

Cage sat forward again. "And I know very little about yours, sweetness. I suppose that's where dating comes in. We'll learn all of this about each other."

Angel nodded as a shiver ran over her.

Cage stood up. "I'll get you a towel." He saw one hanging on the rack on the wall and grabbed it for her.

"Thanks. There are more in the closet there."

Cage walked over to it and grabbed out another towel. He turned back to see that Angel wasn't drying herself off. Instead, she was watching his naked ass.

Cage grinned cockily. "See something you like?"

"I'm not sure there's a woman on the planet who wouldn't."

He walked over to the tub and leaned down to claim her lips. "I only care about one woman's opinion."

Angel ducked her head, and he wondered if she believed him.

Cage dried himself off and then put his pants back on. As much as he wanted to stay, he understood her needing space and time. He had to be patient with her. Besides, he wanted to talk to Steel and Bulldog to find out what the hell happened at the tattoo studio. He was not going to make Angel live through it again.

Cage went to reach for his shirt, but Angel snagged it first. She brought it to her chest and then to her nose, inhaling deep.

Then she smiled wickedly at him. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Fuck no." He'd bring her over a new shirt every day if that's what she wanted to sleep in.

Cage took a step forward, but Angel took a step back. He froze. She blushed. "Sorry. It's just, out of the water… I'm on my period and I need to get myself ready for bed."

Was the fact that she was on her period the real reason she didn't want him sleeping in her bed tonight? Cage still stepped forward and snagged her around the waist. "Your period doesn't bother me in the slightest, sweetness. It's biology and natural."

That blush on her cheeks was adorable. "Not many men feel the same way."

He kissed her deeply. "When are you going to learn, sweetness, that I'm not like many men." He kissed her nose. "I'm better." Angel snorted. "I'll lock up on my way out. Do you need help wrapping your wrists up before going to bed?"

Angel shook her head.

Cage dipped his head to claim her lips again. He needed this kiss to last him the rest of the night. "Good night, Sweet Angel. I'll see you in the morning."