Page 84 of Secret Redemption

Chapter Thirty-One

Pain, so much pain that he could hardly bear to open his eyes but in the midst of all that pain was the softest whisper of touch along the back of his hand. It soothed him and made the pain recede a little. Zin tried to reach for it, but it kept fading further away as the blackness of nothing pulled him back into its coldness.

Zin felt warmth on his skin. Moving slowly, he tried to evaluate his injuries. His head felt muggy and throbbed slightly. Opening his eyes slowly he blinked at the bright sun that streamed through the window. Moving his hand, he realised that he had a cannula in it, and a bandage around his torso.

He was in a bed in a what looked like a house. He went to move his other hand and felt a hand tighten on his. Turning swiftly, nausea roiled in his gut, and his head pounded with pain. Holding still in case he threw up, he cast his eyes at the person holding his hand.

The softest silkiest hair he had ever felt covered the bed where Celeste lay sleeping, exhaustion marring her perfect features with shadows. How long had she been here like this, and why?

Why would a woman like her waste her time on a man like him? A man that was a killer, more than that a man that would torture people to get what he needed and not have an ounce of remorse over it.

He tried to remember what had happened. He had been on the Isle of Man with Winslow and remembered seeing Smithy stalking back to guard the room that seemed to have become his obsession. Zin had walked around outside trying to figure out what was freaking the man out so much. He had gotten close and then he had seen it. He felt rocked to his core, but he needed to be 110% sure before he told anyone. To get their hopes up and then for him to be wrong would be devastating. He would talk to Zack first.

That was when the Butcher had called him and demanded he go to the office. He had been given the order to go to the mainland and meet with Hamilton. He remembered being very glad he had and knowing he had to blow his cover to get Zack and Ava free.

Had they gotten out? Zack had been shot, he remembered that. He needed to know how he was. Celeste would tell him but looking at her pretty face he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He allowed himself a minute to run his palm over the soft skin of her cheek. She turned into it as if seeking comfort, nuzzling his hand with her lips.

Fire shot through his body at the touch, god he wanted her so much, and he had no intention of giving into it. She was innocent in so many ways, and he was dark and damaged. She fancied herself in lust with him, but he would not go there. She needed a good man so that she could settle down and have kids with not some ex-spy biker with a black soul.

Sitting up he slipped out of bed silently and realised he was wearing pyjama bottoms. Looking around he realised he had no clothes anywhere. Oh well, he didn’t care if people saw him half naked. He had nearly made his escape when Celeste’s head came off the bed.

She looked around sleepily, and Zin felt his dead heart almost feel at the adorable yet confused look on her face. “Zin! Oh my god, you're awake,” she said standing and coming to him. Her tiny hands reaching out and touching his biceps, causing tingles to break out all over his body. Suddenly she was in his arms, her body cocooned around his, she enveloped him with her tiny body. Arms around his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest. Zin stood there, arms at his sides for second not knowing what to do, then ever so slowly he wrapped her his arms around her and held her as if he never wanted to let go.

He didn’t know how long they stayed that way with his head buried in her hair, entwined from chest to hip, but a soft growl had him pulling away.

“Nein!” she commanded Samson who was sitting at her feet looking at Zin like he might be lunch. The beast instantly put his ears down and looked contrite and right there in front of his eyes he watched the adoration in the animal’s big brown eyes as he looked at Celeste, and Zin wondered what it would be like to be able to look at her like that.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she looked him over critically, blushing slightly as she scanned his chest.

He ignored the impulse to drag her into bed and show her how he was feeling and backed away from her. “Fine, I need to get dressed and speak to Zack. Is he here?” he asked it hopefully, praying that they were okay.

“Why do you do that?” she asked. “Am I so repulsive to you that you can’t even touch me without running away afterwards. I get that I don’t do it for you Zin and that’s okay. I’m an acquired taste, I know that. But surely we can be friends?”

Was she fucking high? What in god’s name was she going on about? Nothing about her was repulsive, she was like a walking siren with her curves and those sexy as hell tattoos. He contemplated letting her think he was repulsed by her then at least she would stay away from him. The hurt in her eyes stopped him. He couldn't allow her to think she was anything but the beautiful woman she was. It was him that was damaged, not her. “You are not repulsive dushka,” he said softly as he went to the door. “You are a beautiful woman and much too good for the likes of me. I wish with all my heart that I could be what you need me to be but I cannot.” Zin slipped from the room as a tear splashed onto her cheek.

He walked to the end of a hallway and slammed open a door, finding a bathroom. Anger and shame the likes he could not remember hitting him as he pictured the tear falling onto her pale cheek. Cheeks made pale over worry for him.

Zin looked into the mirror and wondered at the man staring back at him. He looked the same but god, he felt different, and it was because of Celeste. Hauling back his fist he punched the wall behind the mirror, fury, and pain pummelling into that one action.

His fist went straight through the wall like it was butter. A hole the size of football had been punched through solid brick, and he hadn't felt a thing. Looking in astonishment at his knuckles he was surprised not to see a single scratch on them.

What the hell had they done to him?