12. Chapter 12

12

Y ou'd think I've never kissed anyone with the way I'm giggling, screaming, and near the verge of throwing up. Mind the fact that I have indeed never been kissed before. But either those waffles Jace made me are causing me to feel slightly ill, or it's the fact my heart is going to rip from my ribcage. I don't understand why he kissed me. But I'm too chicken-shit to ask or to even look at him.

After our kiss, Jace barely spoke to me unless he was ordering me around like a damn puppet. He told me to shower, and I did. He ordered me to just sit on the couch and again, I did. All while he packed a bag of snacks and some of Luna's clothes for me.

Just like she conveniently handed me a small whiteboard and marker so I could talk to Jace and not waste so much paper. The bitch even has an extra car. Why does she have so many extra things just hanging around?

I didn't want to like her, but it's hard when she's just so freaking nice. How can someone be that nice?

Two hours later, I pull my knees to my chest, resting my head against the window. Some country songs filter through the speaker on low. I find myself peeking out from my hood at Jace as he hums along. I never would've assumed he'd be a country fan. But I'm finding myself wanting to know more and more about him.

Why did he take this job?

It's clear my family never told him what happened to me, not that they know much. No one knows because besides Gabriel, none of them have seen my body.

Am I still just a job to him?

Our kiss must not have changed anything because Jace still hasn't talked to me other than when he was ordering me around before we left. Was it truly that bad? I know I have no idea what I'm doing. I was sheltered growing up, and I still am. Not that I don't mind so much now. I like being alone in my room, hating my life. But I like being around Jace.

He's making life less hateful, less…painful. Even with the memories, even if I'm running for my life. Jace makes everything just a little less, and I don't know how to handle that. Do I let him in? Do I put my life in someone else's hands like that? Do I let him show me that the world might not be as scary as I think?

Can I trust him?

Laying my head against the window, I faintly feel Jace place his hand on my thigh. I tense . It's just Jace. Just the man who kissed you and let you spoon him all night, I remind myself.

"Sleep, Sunshine," Jace whispers.

Nodding against the glass, I take a deep breath, feeling myself relax. There's only one way to find out if I can trust Jace with more than just my life.

I wake up as the door shuts. My eyes flutter open, the sun already set and the moonlight shining. Glancing around, I take in the gas station in the middle of nowhere. I peek out the driver's side window and see Jace standing there stretching. With the hem of his shirt lifting enough I can see part of his happy trail. I chew on my lip, knowing I should look away, but I find myself enjoying being able to see him. I'm not all too sure how to feel about this. Henry destroyed me. He took something that wasn't his. He ruined me.

The driver-side door opens, and Jace bends down, poking his head inside.

"I'm going inside to use the bathroom, grab some caffeine—"

I cut him off, unbuckling my seatbelt and shoving the door open. If he thinks I'm just going to sit in the car, he has another thing coming.

"Figured you'd want to come in," he mutters. Walking around the car, I stop in front of Jace, looking up. Being five foot four, I'm used to everyone being taller than me, and ever since what happened I've been almost terrified of them. Jace, I'm not afraid of, and it's refreshing.

Jace nods towards the gas station. Turning on my heel, Jace follows close behind me. He opens the door for me, and we head to the bathroom.

"Blake," Jace stops me. Hand raised to open the door, I stop, frowning up at him. "Let me check," he says.

Leaving no room for argument, Jace moves around me into the women's bathroom. I prop the door open as he steps inside, peeking around the toilet. I almost laugh at him but stop myself when I remember that I've in fact been attacked twice since leaving my parents' house a few days ago.

"Still have those scissors?" he asks, standing in front of me.

Nodding, I tap my pocket where they rest.

"Stab anyone who isn't me if they come in here," he says. "And lock the door behind me."

Slowly the door closes, and I do as he says, as if I wouldn't have locked it myself. I use the restroom, wash my hands, and against my better judgment, glance into the mirror.

The gash above my eyebrow from the bathroom is finally scabbing over, and the bruise around it is still a dark purple. Pulling my hood down, I turn my head to the side, the two bite marks placed side by side.

I hate them. I hate all of them.

I blame Tobias and I blame Dad. If they would've dealt with the cartel instead of fucking off and doing whatever they wanted, I wouldn't have been taken. I hate them.

I hate them.

I HATE THEM.

Clutching my fist at my side, I dig my nails into my palm, hard enough to draw blood. Glancing down, I smile when I see the indents I caused and the blood slowly pooling in my palm. After everything I've been through, you'd think I should hate the sight of blood, of pain. But I crave it. I want the pain; I want to be strong enough to endure it and feel the pleasure.

A sharp knock at the door causes me to flinch. "Blake?"

Shit. Running my hands under the water once more, I quickly dry my hands before yanking the door open. Jace stands on the other side, leaning against the wall. Why does he have to be so hot? Why couldn't they just find an ugly bodyguard?

"Caffeine time," he says, wiggling his brows at me. Rolling my eyes, I shove my hands into my pocket, not wanting him to see.

Jace walks beside me as we make our way to the coolers, searching for whatever drink he wants. After an annoying minute, he reaches inside, pulling three cans of Red Bull out. My eyes widen. He's going to have a heart attack while driving. He's going to surely wreck the car, and that's not how I want to go out. I might be scared of my own shadow, but I like to think I'll go out in a fight.

"What?" he asks when he realizes I'm making a face at his drink choice.

That's a lot of caffeine. Hope you don't die, I sign, not that he has any idea of what I said. Without Gabriel here, it's been annoying to keep all my side comments and remarks to myself. Sure, he doesn't know what I'm saying. I could just sign and make him frustrated.

"You should smile more," Jace murmurs, a hand reaching toward my face. I stand still, scared he might hit me. Biting my cheek, I don't move. I need to learn to trust him. "Don't be scared of me," he whispers. It's like he read my mind.

"You're beautiful. You know that."

My eyes bounce around us. We're in the middle of a gas station at night, and Jace thinks this is where he should call me beautiful. I almost laugh, shaking my head instead. Jace cups my cheek, tilting my head up, I wait to see what he's going to do. Kiss me. I want to say the words, but I can't.

"You should keep your hood off more often."

That comment makes me stop; my blood runs cold. I know he's seen the marks on my body, at least a few of them. But I don't ever remove the hood from my head. I don't want anyone to see the bite marks on my skin. The fact that they're Henry's and Igor's, it's not human. I hate it.

"Don't," he mutters. How does he know exactly what I'm thinking? I don't know what I hate more—that I'm beginning to trust my emotions with him or that I'm okay with it.

"Let's check out so we can get a little further." He smiles, bending down. I think he's going to possibly kiss me, but he doesn't. He stops, and his hand drops.

I press my lips together, hurt. I'm good enough to kiss in private, but not in public.

Well, fuck him.

Finally arriving halfway to Alaska, I stop just outside the border of Canada. While I would normally feel better after stopping, I can't stop looking over at Blake lying in the bed beside me. Ever since we left the gas station a few hours ago she's been quieter than normal, and that's saying something since she's mute. I tried to figure out what I did or said that caused her to shut down. The only thing I came up with was mentioning her smiling and her hood or that I touched her thigh while I was driving. So after we got back inside, I didn't touch her, I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.

So, I don't understand why she's so upset and distant with me. I can only assume it's because I've been pushing her. I knew I shouldn't have kissed her; it was torture not to when we were in the gas station. But I saw the way her body froze when I touched her cheek; her eyes were moving all over the place.

She didn't want to be touched, and I went and fucked that all up.

"Blake," I mumble into the dark. "I'm sorry." I'm not even sure if she's awake or not, but I needed her to know.

She confirms that she's awake when she lifts her head slightly and her breathing picks up a bit. My Sunshine was trying to fake being asleep again.

Throwing the blanket off, I grab the whiteboard and marker from the side table, tossing them on the bed beside her.

"We're going to talk," I announce, flicking the light on .

Blake glares at me over the blanket, not that it surprises me anymore. She's either glaring at me or staring at me like I hang the moon. There's barely any in the middle.

"Why are you mad?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

She sits up, and grabs the whiteboard, angrily writing on it. Flipping it over, I'm trying to sleep, asshole.

"Good one, now tell me the truth."

She's going to be stubborn, and from the flick in her brow and the staring contest she's playing with me, she's either going to throw a fit or I'm going to get stabbed, again.

"I can be a very patient man, but don't forget I'm a killer, Sunshine. So, when I ask you what's wrong, you either tell me or I will force it out of you." Not sure how I plan on forcing it out of her. Maybe give her an orgasm. Bet she's never had one of those before. Not with how wound up she is.

Blake erases the board, writing faster than I've seen before.

What are you going to do, torture me? Been there done that, ASSHOLE.

I laugh, she's funny.

And when she erases the board again and writes, ASSHOLE, YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE.

I bend at the waist, holding my side as I barely contain my laughter. I'm not even sure why I'm laughing, but knowing it's bothering her, maybe it'll be enough that she'll snap and tell me.

"Oh, baby, this is nothing new. But this isn't why you're upset with me."

I don't think that's why she's mad at me. I've been an asshole to her since the beginning. There was nothing special that I did that would cause her to be mad at me right now.

"Why are you mad at me?" I ask again, stepping forward.

Blake erases the whiteboard harsher than necessary, glaring at me the entire time. Her green eyes shine just a bit more when she's upset, and she forces the marker down harder, writing too angrily.

You didn't kiss me.

I cock my head to the side, frowning. I didn't kiss her? When had she wanted me to kiss her? We've been driving for hours, not that I wouldn't have leaned over and dropped one on her. I definitely would have if I didn't think she'd stab me or pop my eye out.

"Blake, I…"

Aggressively she writes, gas station.

What is she talking about? We both used the restroom, I waited for her and when she came out, I noticed she was no longer wearing her hood up. I had been so distracted that I barely remember much until we got to the car.

"I…I'm sorry I'm blanking on what you're talking about." I frown, uncrossing my arms.

You didn't kiss me in the gas station. You dropped my hand.

Again, I'm lost, unsure what she's even talking about… oh fuck. I told her she looked beautiful, and that she should keep her hood off. I was going to kiss her, I wanted to, but I wasn't sure how she would feel.

"Blake, I can expl—" The whiteboard hits my chest, chattering to the ground. Blake's eyes widen as she realizes what she's done.

Everything happens at once, and Blake shoves up from the bed, running for the bathroom. She doesn't even get two feet on the ground before my arms wrap around her middle, lifting her off the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?" I growl.

Blake bucks against me, her arms flying around. I'll give her credit, she's trying to get the upper hand, but I have more than a hundred pounds on her and years of training.

Twisting her around, I slam her body against the bed, settling between her legs. Blake's eyes widen, but she stops fighting against me. Grabbing her wrists, I lift them above her head, not wanting to get stabbed if she can somehow reach into her pocket and produce those scissors.

"Throwing things at others isn't very nice, Sunshine," I mutter. Blake turns her head away from me, and I grip her jaw with my other hand forcing her to look at me. "If you want to kiss me, then all you have to do is just that, Sunshine. "

I'm not one to care if someone else is mad at me. Usually, it's the one I'm moments from murdering that is angry. But I can't stand her being upset, especially at me.

Blake thinks about it for a minute before she pushes her lips out.

"You'll have to work a little harder than that," I smirk. She shakes her head, pushing her lips out again.

I'm on her in a second, letting go of her jaw, my lips slamming against hers. Blake immediately opens for me, sending shivers down my spine. Twisting us around, I land on my back, Blake straddling my hips. Keeping her wrists in my hand, I drag them above my head, forcing her to stretch herself against me.

"I don't like you being mad at me. I find it makes me mad at myself and I have no idea what I—"

Blake shuts me up, crushing her mouth to mine. It's like the first time all over again. She's a little sloppy, but I don't care. Not when I drop her wrists and my hands grip her hips. Her tongue brushes against my bottom lip, seeking entry. Her hands slip into my hair, tugging some of it out of the hair tie.

Blood rushes to my cock. I know she can feel it. I expect her to freak out, to stop kissing me, yet Blake does none of that. She presses her hips against my dick, drawing out a long moan, slipping from my lips into hers.

She pulls back, her pupils dilating with the desire in her eyes. I know what I want, Blake just needs to push through whatever is in her head.

"Trust me," I beg. "I won't hurt you; I will never hurt you."

Blake's hips move forward, grinding against my cock.

"Trust me," I groan, not looking away from her eyes.

She smiles down at me, telling me she does. It's all I need. Having her trust is like winning the lottery. Blake is everything, all I need. She's becoming the world, and all I see. In a gray world, she's the only thing that makes sense. The only one.