20. Messiah

We stare at one another for a moment. I think we are both too stunned to think clearly. My first instinct is to reach for the long hair on her head. I yank it, expecting another wig to come off but the strands only pull from her scalp and get twisted in my fingers.

"Ow!" she screams, kicking out at me.

Her foot collides with my injured leg and I step away, taking a deep breath as my fist slams into the kitchen counter to try and counteract the pain. She turns toward the door, but before she can get on her feet I grab the back of her jacket and slam her back against the wall.

"Angel?" I say again. "What the fuck!"

"Let me go!" she shouts.

I limp around the kitchen island and open the junk drawer. She makes a run for the door but I have the tape in my hand and jump into her path before she can even reach for the chain. She shouts in surprise and stumbles back. I grab her jacket but it slides off her as she tries to wiggle away. She runs toward the windows in the den to get to the fire escape. My body falls onto hers and we collapse with a heavy thunk against the floor.

She screams and my hand slams over her mouth. Even injured, she doesn't have the weight to fight me off. I can see the panic growing in her eyes as the realization hits her. She isn't going to get away from me. The tape makes a loud riiip as I yank the strip out with my teeth. If I weren't in so much shock over Angel being my fucking killer, and the pain in my leg from our fight, my dick would probably be hard right now. This is the most I have ever touched her.

It is easy to hold her skinny wrists in my hand, and I wrap the tape around them and squeeze it tight before adding a second layer. When her hands are tied, I tape her mouth shut then take a relieved breath as I sit up on my knees beside her.

"Now –"

Her foot slams into my nuts and the air is blown out of me as I fall over. Son of a bitch!

She rolls away from me and wiggles to her feet. I manage to get one hand off my sore nuts to grab her ankle. Her body slams into the floor as I pull her toward me. She screams behind the tape as I straddle her waist and reach for the tape roll. She fights as I tape her ankles together; and once she is subdued, I toss the tape aside and take a slow breath as I fight against the pain in my body.

She falls still, only her chest heaving up and down as she looks at me. Turning my body, I kneel over her waist as I look down at her. The pain radiating through me disappears when I see the blood dripping from her nostrils. There is a bruise forming under her right eye.

"Fuck, baby," I sigh, leaning down.

Our faces press close together and I reach up to wipe the blood off her cheek. I hit her. Fuck, I hit her. But I didn't know it was her. She goes rigid beneath my touch and I lean over and let my head press against the floor beside her head. The tension in her body is turning to shivers and I can feel her hands shaking against my chest.

"Alright." I push myself back up to my knees and look around.

I am not sure what to do now. My job is to kill whoever has been murdering Charles's Disciples. But it is my Angel. What sort of devil would I be if I killed my Angel?

"Alright."

I nod as I look around, wincing as I stand. The pain in my leg is still throbbing and I know I am going to have to clean it soon. Now that I know it was her that ran, I am proud of my girl for defending herself so well.

She whimpers as I pull her off the floor and maneuver her toward the couch.

"If I take that off are you going to scream?" I ask, pointing to the tape over her mouth.

Judging by the glare she is giving me, that is exactly what she plans to do.

"I need to wash the blood off your face," I tell her gently.

I get a towel from the kitchen and wet it before coming back into the den and kneeling in front of her. She tenses again as I cage her in and wipe at the blood that splattered over her face during the scuffle.

"I didn't mean to hit you," I tell her. "I swear, I am not that kind of man. I didn't know it was you."

My finger pries the edge of the tape up and I pull it as gently as I can. She watches me closely as I wipe away the red from her cheeks.

"You need ice for that," I say, gesturing to her eye.

I press the tape back over her mouth and go to the kitchen. I pull a clean towel from the drawer and fill it with some ice. Her eyes follow me across the room as I walk toward her and kneel down again. My leg is still aching. There are splatters of blood from both of us all over the floor. Lifting her hands, I press them against the towel to hold it to her eye.

"I . . ." I look around. There is a mess to clean. I don't even know where to start. "I'll be right back."

The blood on my pants has stuck the fabric to my leg. I grunt as I tug it away from the cut. The water stings as I wash it in the tub and then assess how deep the damage is. Nothing some glue won't fix. I dig under my cabinet for my bucket of first aid supplies. I haven't been hurt at work in a long time. It was probably a record. Twisting the cap off the bottle of alcohol, I hold it over my leg as I stand with my injured leg over the empty tub.

"Fuck it," I grumble.

The liquid sears as it touches my leg and I slam my fist against the wall as I try to wait it out. Super glue isn't the best remedy for shit like this, but it is better than stitches. The cut doesn't look deep enough for them anyways. My fingers shake a bit from the pain as I hold the edges of the wound together long enough to let the glue set. I dig an ace bandage from the bucket and wrap it around my calf.

Once my leg is taken care of, I discard my blood splattered shirt on the bedroom floor and walk back out to the living room.

She is still sitting where I left her, her face turned to the large windows that open to the fire escape. Now what do I do?