Chapter 13

Thirteen

Regan

T en minutes later, I had changed and lay back in bed, trying to bury myself in pillows and forget the horrifying sight I had just witnessed.

I froze when the window to my bedroom creaked open. One black boot slipped through, followed by another. My breath caught in my throat as Rook unfurled his body and stepped inside.

I pulled the blankets up, my mind racing between screaming and telling him to leave, but I couldn't bring myself to do either. Paralyzed, I watched as Rook moved closer, his presence filling the room with an unsettling mix of fear and familiarity.

"What are you doing here?" I choked the words out.

"We weren't done talking," he said calmly. "You can't run off like that."

"Yes, we were, and yes, I can. There's nothing else to talk about."

He shook his head, setting his helmet down on my dresser before stalking over towards the end of the bed.

"Fine, we won't talk, then."

I wanted to be afraid of him, to feel scared he had followed me, but a part of me was comforted by the fact he cared enough not to let me leave upset.

He stalked closer, making me move up the bed until I pressed myself against the headboard.

"My dad is home tonight. If he catches you, he'll call the cops."

"That's okay. I'm faster than them."

I rolled my eyes. "Then what do you want? You came to kill me next?"

He smiled, shadows twisting over his face in the dim light. This was absolutely what they mean when they say angel of death. He looked too handsome to kill me, but here he was, blood still on his clothes from his last victim, and I could be next.

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't come around me anymore. You're a monster," I said, glad my voice didn't shake now.

He grinned, stepping closer. "I don't think you know the half of it, Rebel."

He came to my side of the bed, his eyes locked on me as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slowly. I gasped, my anger dying out at the sight of his burned, scarred skin, tattoos, and abs. The combination made me lose my train of thought as I tried to take it all in.

"Quite a monstrous sight, isn't it?" he asked.

My mouth dropped open as I reached out, my hands tracing around the edge of the scars. "What happened?"

"Fire, wrecks, drunken nights adding tattoos. All of it. Half of me is scarred from a wreck. I laid my bike down the first time I ran from the police," he said, pointing to the scars on his right side were healed and faded. "The other half is from a fire."

"Fire? They had to be pretty severe burns to cause that type of scarring."

"They were," he said quietly. He hadn't moved from the spot next to my bed. Even as I touched him, he hadn't come closer.

"Tell me," I whispered.

I couldn't figure out why he chose now, of all times, to show me something so…horrific. My heart pounded as the true horror of it sank in. I did want to understand what had happened to him. Was he truly a monster, or had someone turned him into one?

"A house fire. My parents died, my sister was young. I went to her room to get her and didn't have as much luck getting out."

"Evie," I said. "She made it out okay?"

"Yeah, without a scratch or burn on her."

"Rook," I said, the sadness in my voice obvious.

"Don't talk to me with so much pity. I am fine."

"Maybe now, but at some point, you weren't. Does it hurt now?"

"Sometimes. I have days where it aches, usually after a long night of working or long rides." He gave a tight smile. "It makes it more difficult to get into fistfights now. I learned the hard way you're not as good of a fighter when half your body is more vulnerable."

The words brought a clear image of a younger Rook trying to fight. His arms swinging, his body coiled to win, until he was hit on these scars.

I pushed myself onto my knees, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under my palms as I pulled it up and over his head before I wrapped my arms around his neck. My heart raced with anticipation and fear as I pulled him down for a kiss, tasting the mint on his breath. He hesitated briefly, but then his hands found their way to my hips, gripping them tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce intensity. A growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed me down onto the bed, pinning my wrists above my head as he kissed along my jaw.

"You feel so bad for me, you're kissing me? You think I need that level of pity?"

"Yes," I breathed.

He stood back up and grabbed my ankles. I yelped as he dragged me to the end of the bed and he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"Should I take advantage of that? Make you feel so bad for me, I take everything I want from you right now?"

"Yes," I said, trying to catch my breath.

His hands trailed up my legs, stopping at my thighs.

"And you want to be fucked by a monster? You want my ruined body on yours? You want my hands on you when, ten minutes ago, you were scared of them?"

I nodded. "Maybe you aren't the monster."He pushed at the oversized shirt I had slipped into, bunching it at my waist and smiling when he saw nothing underneath."Maybe I am."

He glanced up at me with heavy eyes as he grabbed my hips and yanked me further down the bed until I was perched on the corner.

In one smooth motion, my legs were thrown over his shoulders and his head buried between my thighs.

I gasped at the sudden heat of his mouth against me, the way his tongue moved along me in one rough motion. He didn't hesitate, or give any light touch. There was nothing except him taking exactly what he wanted. He reached my clit, the burning need to have him moving harder and faster set me on edge, and he matched it immediately.

My skin prickled at the feel of his hand sliding up my bare thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I should have hated the fast pace, but all I could think about was how badly he wanted to taste me. It felt as if he couldn't wait any longer, and I liked each confident touch.

His fingers found their way to my entrance, making me gasp as he pushed two fingers inside. I met his intense gaze. He had angled us at the corner of the bed, giving me a full view of what him in the tall mirror sitting in the corner of my room.

I couldn't look away. The view of his head buried between my legs was better at this angle. I could see the muscles in his back flex as his arms tightened on my thighs, the tattoos moving with him.

"Keep watching. Watch how much you love to get off on the tongue of a monster."

"Stop," I breathed. "Stop calling yourself that."

"Why? You just did."

"I take it back."

"You will regret it. Don't scream, Rebel. If your dad walks in here, I will have the perfect excuse to kill him."

"He's not actually here," I said. "I lied, so you can't kill him even if you wanted to."

He almost went to say something, but his head dropped again, licking and sucking like he couldn't get enough and I couldn't take enough. My hands fisted into his hair, pulling him hard against me. He groaned in satisfaction, so I pulled harder.

I could feel the orgasm getting closer, the build-up like walking to a cliff edge, and then panic took over. Something about it felt like too much, like I couldn't handle what was about to happen.

I shrieked, flipping myself over to crawl up the bed, but Rook jumped forward, his mouth coming down over my clit again, his hand pushing me until my face fell against the mattress.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?"

My hands fisted into the sheets and I yelled against the blankets as he continued his carnal attack. He flipped me onto my back again. "Trying to run, Rebel? You're not going anywhere until you coat my tongue in cum."

"Rook," I moaned as he buried his tongue in me again. This time, I let it build, let it take over as my brain turned to nothing but screaming with need for relief. My hands buried in his hair again, pulling him hard against my swollen clit as every muscle tightened. "More, Rook, now. More," I nearly yelled, the teasing, agonizing feeling demanding relief.

His fingers pushed into me again as he covered my clit. My hips lifted off the bed as I gasped for air. The relief felt overwhelming, black dots coating my vision as my body tightened. My fingers pulled tighter, the rush of hot liquid between my legs feeling like too much as I finally fell back to the mattress.

He moved up the bed, crawling over top of me.

"What a good girl, taking what I give you. Now taste how much you like my mouth on you," he said, his lips dropping to mine, making me taste myself on his tongue. "You made a fucking mess, baby. All over my face and the bed. I would apologize, but I think it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

I could feel my cheeks flame, but the room was dark enough to hide it. My chest heaved with heavy breaths as my hands ran down his sides, one moving over marred skin.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not much. It probably bothers you more," he whispered against my lips.

He shifted, pulling a knife out of his jeans and laying it down on my nightstand, kissing me as he did. My eyes flicked to it and back to him.

I almost asked why he set it there, but then he dropped on the bed next to me like he couldn't hold himself up anymore.

"You're tired?" I asked.

"Exhausted."

I laid there in the quiet for a few minutes before I couldn't keep my thoughts in.

"You didn't have a helmet or jacket. You gave me yours."

"Maybe that answers your question whether I care if you die or not."

I sat there in silence, staring up at the ceiling as my thoughts on the man next to me raged.

The door slammed open, making me jump. Harper's face appeared in the doorway, but it was Rook who got my attention.

He sprang up, grabbing the knife from my nightstand and moving it directly over my chest. Poised and ready to plunge it into me if he wanted.

My chest heaved, each rise causing the tip of the knife to graze against my shirt.

I kept watching as he glanced from me to Harper and back at me.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Sorry. I thought it could be someone else, Regan."

"Who is coming through my door that is going to make you kill me?" He had set the knife back down, but I grabbed it now. My hands went clammy. Anger and fear coursed through me. I had trusted this man enough to do what he had just done. My hands started to sweat as I held the knife. "Get out."

"Regan, relax, I wasn't going to hurt you."

"You were about to shove a knife into my chest!" I yelled.

Harper watched, still frozen in the doorway.

"I had it look like I was going to. I wouldn't hurt you. And no, I'm not going to hurt you, either," he said to Harper.

She didn't respond, watching wide eyed as I got up.

"No, because I'll cut you," I said, facing him now.

Rook only grinned as he slipped on his shirt. "And I'll let you, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"And here I thought you liked me being a gentleman. Especially after I made you come. Fine." He stepped around the bed, and I held up the knife.

He didn't care, though. He pushed against the knife until it pressed between us, the blade on his chest.

"Go ahead," he said, smiling. "Plunge it deep into my chest. Watch me bleed out on the floor right here. I would never bother you again, but you would have a mess to clean up depending on where you stab me." Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my head back. I looked up at him, trying to press the knife harder, but scared I would actually hit skin. "I'm not going to hurt you, Regan."

He was rough as he kissed me again, biting once at my lower lip, but I stayed rooted to the ground, his hand still wrapped in my hair. "I'll see you later, baby. "

"Don't come back."

"Text me when you need me. For any needs." He smiled at Harper and then back to me. "Murder. Orgasms. I'm here."

"You forgot your knife," I said.

"Keep it."

"Why? Some weird gift to help protect me from you?" I asked, the words dripping with sarcasm.

He grabbed his helmet, already heading to the window.

"Sure, Rebel. All here to protect you. Not that it would be careless to carry a murder weapon around with me. Definitely not that."

"Rook!" I yelled.

He shoved his helmet on, waving as he slipped out the window without another word.

"Rook!" I yelled again, but he was already gone.

As the adrenaline faded, anger surged through me. I had invited Rook into my life, and now it felt like I had crossed a line I could never uncross.