Then my fingers drift to my nose, or the empty space my nose stud used to be. Lightly, I touch it, hissing at the scab. A tiny, jagged hole sits where the metal used to be.
Dipping my chin to my bare chest, I stare at the Raven necklace I stole from him all those years ago. It doesn’t boost my feeling of power anymore—it’s just a chain searing my skin. I claw at my neck, picturing his hands around it all those years ago. He’d been lost in the moment. Half high, half consumed in pleasure. As I pushed and pleaded, fisting anything to make it stop, I grabbed the dangling piece of jewelry and ripped it off him in my frenzied attempt to escape him. When he was done, he walked off, leaving me bleeding and broken on the forest floor. After I finally stood, I looked down at the necklace clutched in my hand and decided then to carry it with me.
But now …
I yank the chain, staring at it coiled in my hand like I had that night. Then, with a slow tip, it tumbles from my hand and snakes into the drain.
I exhale a pent-up breath and rip my phone out of my bag of toiletries, turn it over, and look for any messages from Noah. Hell, I’d settle for anything from anyone at this point.
My hands drop to my sides, staring at my reflection in the mirror across from me. I look like hell—feel it, too.
But Noah …
I shudder, remembering his body so still. It’s been a couple days. I should go back. Demand to know how he is doing. Demand to see him.
That’s what I’m going to do. I roll my shoulders. I’m going back.
The wind bites at my cheeks as I step out of the building, my arms locked around myself at the waist. My bag over my shoulder keeps slipping, but I ignore it staring at the pebbled asphalt on my way to my car.
With my thoughts still tangled and my body still aching, I glance up toward my car and that’s when I see him.
I draw up short, freezing mid-stride.
He’s leaning against the front of my car, gray sweatpants resting low on his hips while the long sleeve shirt he’s wearing is rolled at his forearms. Like he pushed them up in a hurry. Hands tucked into his pants pockets, he watches me, concerned grooves etched in his furrowed brows.
The slow breaths I was walking myself through become rapid and every other one gets caught in my throat.
He can’t be real. Did I hit my head and now I’m losing it? He should be in the hospital, resting and recovering. But damn it, it’s good to see him awake and breathing.
Disbelief flickers across his face. His brows are lifted, lips parted, eyes locked onto me like he’s afraid to blink.
The wind tugs at my damp hair, blowing over my face, but I continue forward, and he stumbles back, catching himself with his hand on the hood.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath, running to him.
When I reach him, I grab his shoulder to help steady him. “Noah, what the hell? What are you doing here?”
His throat works like he’s trying to swallow words that won’t come. “I had to see you.” He pants. “To make sure you were okay. I have to make it right.”
I open my mouth to respond but quickly snap it shut.
“Damn it, Noah. You need to be in the hospital. Come on. Let me drive you back.” I move to wrap his arm over my shoulder to help him to the passenger side of my car, but he holds my forearm to stop me. He’s solid, regardless of his condition.
His eyes flicker, searching my face. The cold breeze brushes over my neck but doesn’t linger with his warm body pressed to mine. There’s a quiet war in his eyes, but then, in a rush, he closes the distance. His hands frame my face, fingers threading into my wet hair. Lips crash into mine, and I blink, kissing him back. His body melts, the aching tension unwinding as he bites at my lower lip.
I grip his shirt, and the world shrinks to just me and him. The heat of his mouth. The way he breathes me in, like I’m what he needs to survive.
When he pulls away, I’m left stunned.
“Noah …”
“I love you, Lil. I’m so sorry. I feel like it’s all my fault he took you. Brent told me he wanted to meet with me. Then he wanted me to help him move the Jackpot. When I told him no, Brent told me he’d go after you. It’s a sick twist of fate thathewas the one from all those years ago?—”
My mind struggles to keep up. “What are you talking about? It doesn’t matter anymore, Noah. Come on. Let’s get in the car.”
He nods and I help him to the passenger seat. I run around to the driver’s side of the car and slide in, turning on the heat and move my junk off the dash.
I turn to look at him. “Seriously. Why aren’t you in the hospital? They couldn’t havepossiblydischarged you.”
