THIRTY-THREE - Alana

THIRTY-THREE

Alana

My face feels like it's twice the normal size when I walk into my darkened apartment and drop my purse before kicking off my shoes and limping into my bedroom.

The atmosphere is tense.

Sighing, I flick on the light to see Thorn lounging on his back on my bed, his feet bare and his arms beneath his head. His jacket is tossed over my chair and his sleeves are rolled up. He seems to be sleeping but opens his eyelids and turns his head to look at me.

I sigh. "I'm not up to you tonight."

His soft gaze hardens as he swings his legs over and stands, zeroing in on my blazing face. "What happened?"

Tears gather in my eyes. "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"Sokolov hit you?" His voice is so low and controlled, it reduces the heat in the room.

I don't ask how he knows where I've been. He always knows. "We had a scuffle."

"Is he bruised?"

I shake my head and a tear falls. Angrily, I wipe it away. "I need some space, Thorn." From men. From all men.

Yet my shock as he walks past me out of the bedroom nearly knocks me to my knees. He's just leaving? I don't know him at all. Sniffling, I limp into the bathroom and take a look at my face. A bruise covers my cheekbone in angry purple and red, extending to my ear. Eesh. It is bad. Feeling abandoned and lost, I shuffle to the attached closet and remove my jewelry before grabbing a worn T-shirt and limping back into the bedroom.

Thorn's waiting, sitting on the bed with frozen bags of vegetables next to him.

I frown, my brain not working. "I'm not hungry."

"Come here."

My feet move before my brain registers the words, and then I'm standing in front of him. Still sitting, he grasps my white halter top at the hem and gently pulls it over my head. Then he whistles, looking at my rib cage.

I glance down to see furious purple streaks across my ribs.

"Hold your breath." He gingerly probes the injury.

I suck in air, unable to do anything else. I know he's gentle, but agony ripples through my torso.

Finally, he stops. "They're not broken or cracked, but you're going to be sore. Punch or kick?"

"Kick."

A growl rumbles from his chest. He gently turns me, scanning my body. "Where else?"

"Right ankle."

He stands and switches positions with me, drawing down my skirt as he does so. Then he crouches, lifting my ankle. "It's a bump. How?"

"Not sure." I'm not up to complete sentences as I pull the soft cotton shirt over my head, still sniffling. "Maybe I hit a table?"

He draws in air, expanding his chest. Then he stands. "Lie on your side, facing me."

I do so and draw up my knees.

"Good girl." He places a bag of frozen peas that I'll never eat on my ankle and secures it with a bathrobe belt. What's his deal with bathrobe belts, anyway? A frozen bag of carrots folds over my aching ribs, providing instant relief. Then he wraps a towel around a baggie of ice and places it over my pounding cheekbone.

"Thank you," I whisper, surprised he can be so gentle.

He removes his phone from his back pocket and presses it to his ear. "Doc? I need a prescription of hydro, seven-fifties, sent to this address. Now." He gives my address and ends the call. "You need to contact your men and tell them to expect a delivery." He hands over my phone.

I call the head of my security and ask him not to shoot the delivery guy.

Thorn replaces his phone and crouches, brushing hair away from my face. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"No."

"Tell me."

I want to close my eyes and forget the night. "I don't want to."

"Too bad. Beginning to end. Right now." He's caressing my head, and I just want to purr and go to sleep. The ice is helping, but my injuries ache in time with my heartbeat.

I sigh and then tell him every detail, including that I played along with Cal to get freedom. Not once does Thorn stop massaging my head.

A knock sounds on my outside door and Thorn stands, walking away, his shoulders wide and strong. He soon returns with a glass of water and a pill. "Take this."

"No." It's an automatic response.

He leans over, his face closer to mine. "Your medical records don't indicate you have a problem with painkillers. Do you?"

Why doesn't it surprise me that he's read my medical records? "No, but I don't want to be out of it."

He presses the pill between my lips. "I'll keep watch over you, princess." Then he holds the water to my lips.

I'm at an awkward angle on my side, but I obediently drink and swallow the pill. Maybe it'll help with the pain. He places the glass and pill bottle on my bedside table near the rose quartz lamp and then sits on the floor with his back to the small table, so tall we're eye to eye. I'm not sure what to say, and I'm becoming drowsy. "I don't want to press charges against Cal." It would create a media frenzy that I don't want. I'm embarrassed, but I haven't done anything wrong, and it's confusing.

"I understand." Thorn lifts the ice from my cheek, takes a look, and places it back down.

I stare at him with my good eye. "I don't want to be responsible for his death, either."

"You're not."

That's not what I want to hear. "I mean it, Thorn."

"I'm staying right here with you, Alana Beaumont," he says softly. "Not going anywhere, so stop worrying about it."

I'm glad he's here. Maybe too glad. My eyes fill with tears.

"Stop that," he whispers, catching a tear with his finger. He licks it clean. "Salty honey," he murmurs. Then he focuses on me, all intent. "You know it's different, right?"

I blink away more tears. "Huh?"

"Us and what happened with Cal."

Oh. That. It is different, and I can't explain why, but I feel it. Thorn would never punch me in the face. Does spanking me to orgasm make him a good guy? I don't think so. I'm also not entirely sure I want a good guy. But I do want Thorn. "Yes. It's different," I agree. "But the whole withholding orgasm thing really sucks."

Amusement lights his eyes, fascinating me with the silver streaks. "It's supposed to."

"It's a little extreme." I might be milking this situation, but I'm okay with that.

His gaze is knowing. "When I text you and you don't text back, I imagine the worst. You. Hurt. It kills me." He trails his fingers along my arm. "If you're going to kill me, you're going to pay for it."

That's both sweet and irritating. "Why did you trade me for a big-assed garnet?"

He sits back. "I can't tell you about that."

"Why don't you trust me?" I ask quietly.

He lifts his chin. "Tell me you're all in, that you're mine, and I'll trust you with everything."

I'm not ready to do that. He's too terrifying, and he's all encompassing. "I don't want to lose myself."

"Maybe you'll find yourself." His grin is charming, and the scar on his face intriguing.

I sigh. I'll never win an argument with him. "Tell me about your mom." I need an insight into him. Any insight.

"Don't remember her, but I do consider Charity my mom." He grins, looking almost boyish. Not quite. He'll never look like anything other than the predator he is, even when amused or indulgent. "She would cut the crusts off our sandwiches. That's what a mom does."

"That's true." I remember my mom doing the same thing. "Did Charity look like Justice?"

Thorn pulls his phone free again and flicks through it, finding a picture. "I think so."

I look at a smiling young woman who should've lived forever. She has Justice's deep brown eyes and slightly curly brown hair. "She was pretty."

"Yeah." Thorn puts his phone away.

The pills are pulling me into a feather-field oasis of comfort. "I think somebody killed my brother."

Thorn stiffens. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah. I'm investigating the matter," I say, trying to sound tough but I'm pretty sure I'm slurring my words now.

"Why do you suspect homicide?"

I yawn widely and give him most of the details. "Maybe you could help?" I'm sure it's the drugs, but he looks invincible.

"Sure." He checks my ribs and ankle before sitting back down. The man looks so handsome through the haze.

"You're pretty," I mumble.

His smile dazzles me.

"Are we going to the ball?" I wonder if he can dance. He has good hands. My thoughts tumble around.

"Yes."

That's nice. I've attended that charity event every year, and I've never had a date. Sure, I've danced a lot, but it's more fun going with Ella and Rosalie. At least it was. I bet it'll be nice to be with Thorn. "Do you dance?"

"Yes."

Figures.

"This is complicated, Thorn," I mumble.

"It doesn't have to be."

Maybe not. "You owe me an orgasm."

"You're not up to it right now."

He's not wrong. "I need to learn how to fight better." It's sad, but I didn't leave one mark on Cal.

"All right. I'll teach you."

"Are you sure?" I snort. "I might beat you up."

He stretches his neck and it pops. "I'll take my chances."

That figures as well. My eyelids are getting heavy. "I need to charge the crystals tomorrow before the ball. Then I'm going to find the prettiest dress. You'll be tongue-tied." I've always wanted to make a man tongue-tied, and doing it to this man will be incredible.

"What did you say?" His voice sounds sharp.

Geez. "Tongue-tied," I repeat. Surely he's not cranky about that.

"No." His hand is on my shoulder, still gentle but firm. "Before that. What are you planning to do tomorrow?"

What was it? Oh yeah. "I have to charge the crystals at Aquarius Social before the event. They're due."

"You charge the aquamarines?" Is he growling again?

That's a secret. Darn it. I forgot. "Yes. I'm the one. Don't tell anybody."

"Fuck me." It sounds like a groan.

"I'm not up to it," I remind him and slide into a dreamless sleep.