“I don’t want pain meds. My mother has a pill problem so I stay away from them all together,” I responded robotically. Well, that’s half true. I needed to get the fuck out of there pronto. “He has a concert tonight. So…” I hedged, blaming it on his concert. “Hey, what time is it, anyway?” I asked Abel.
His arms were crossed as he scrutinized me. Of course, he was. He had a sense about him. An alpha thing. An Abel thing…I had no clue. God, I felt like I was suffocating. I needed to get out of there.
“Not until tonight. We got in late last night. No worries.” His cold voice did nothing to help my paranoia. Ugh. I forced myself to look into his eyes. I couldn’t afford not to. We couldn’t afford any more issues between us. I almost laughed when that came into my thoughts. I was a walking hypocrisy.
I reached for him. “Please take me home.” Then I looked to the doctor. “Dr. Barak, can you call me with the results? I already said I don’t want the pain medication. Is there anything else keeping me here?” I waited, squeezing Abel’s hand.
“Not that I can see by your chart. I can discharge you to your…” He looked to Abel.
“B—” I never got the word out.
“Her fiancé,” Abel finished the doctor’s question. “I will be taking care of her. My parents are here to help, too. We have plenty of help. She will be well-cared for.” His eyes never left me.
I never questioned him caring for me. What I was questioning was the title of fiancé. We’ve never had a discussion, ever. I didn’t know what to say. A part of me was jumping around inside my deceptive brain. The girlie—illogical—part wanted to argue that he never asked and not to assume. I was pissy about that. However, another part of me just said shut your mouth for now. Have the conversation later. I’d probably hurt his feelings with my brash mouth. I had a snow-globe of ideas and thoughts swirling endlessly. I had to grab on to one…at least for now. So, I let the healthiest side of me win this one.
He’d be mine.
I’d be his.
That’s what I truly wanted—family.
Why did I feel I was going down a one-way street?
Our love was complicated at times. She had me tied up in fucking knots.
My love for her was all-consuming. It had me fucking exhausted.
I wanted to give her the world.
Promise her the moon and stars. Would that be enough?
She took away all my doubts and fears.
I soared with her. I’d soar higher for her.
Yet she had the ability to bring me to my fucking knees. Flat the fuck out.
I was no longer invincible to love. Not her love.
I prayed she wouldn’t leave me for dead one day.
That’s the thing with promises. They’re made to be broken.
And that was my greatest fear, being broken—again.
God, help me, I loved her…
Then why did I feel like I was running out of time?
The next few weeks flew by quickly. Gia recovered fully. My parents stayed on for a while and I accepted their help graciously. A big part of me was thrilled to see Gia bonding with my mother. They both needed it. Though we never spoke of that night. That was fine by me. I wasn’t ready to rehash the words that were likely heard by Gia. I needed to breathe first. That night left me insecure and tattered emotionally. Not a good look for me. I became overbearing and even more protective of Beauty. It took weeks to for me to regain my Zen. Eventually, we’d have that talk. So, I’d table it for as long as I could. I hid cowardly behind my band. Threw myself into work. The tour was a success. Professionally, Lethal Abel was fucking gold. Personally, I was happier than I had ever been. So why did I feel so insecure?
Morgana. She had been too quiet. We hadn’t located her anywhere. It was like she fell off the face of the earth. Any other time, I’d be happy about that. But I had a gnawing feeling that disaster was on the horizon. Was I paranoid? Doubtfully. If anything, she was a persistent, calculating bitch. Most likely biding her time—plotting.
Gia was thrilled that I had been clean and drug-free for a few weeks. I should’ve felt happy about that. However, it was a constant struggle. I was a stranger to myself and I didn’t know if I liked this new person. I found myself needing more…
We were in Amsterdam. Gia was sleeping soundly and I knew Cindy leaving Germany would be tough for Gia. She was depressed and withdrawn at times. She got herself so worked up she was sick at times. She spent many mornings throwing up. To say I was concerned didn’t cut it. I was a fucking worried mess. I thought a distraction was needed, so I decided it was a good time to bring Beauty further into the world of BDSM discipline. I tested her limits…pushed her boundaries. She responded with compliance and desire. We mutually grew as partners. Her lessons were never about punishment. But about trust. Her trust in me to do right by her and our relationship. To guide her, mind, body, and soul. And I was all too happy to teach them to her. Our nights were filled with discovery and carnality. She was eager to learn and even more to please. The Dom in me beat his chest. Pride filled me.
Then why was I feeling like a walking contradiction? Why did I feel like I needed more?
Chance walked into the room with all the flair of a gay man. “I’m thrilled you asked me up.” He beamed, clapping. Fuck. “It’s been a long time in Chance-time that you’ve trusted anyone to guard your beauty. This is progress,” he said, applying his Burt’s Bees lip balm. “You need?” he offered, going on and on about how dry it’s been and maybe the hotel needed a humidifier.
“Definitely not.” I rolled my eyes. “Relax the gayness for a minute and listen up.”
He immediately straightened his stance. Better. It was hard to take him seriously with all his flitting all over the place.
“I’m going down the hall to Ender’s room. He’s having some people over. I won’t be long. She’s not to leave this suite. You got that? If anything happens to her…I will fucking kill you.” I needed to be forceful with him. He had a habit of letting Gia get her way. He was affected by her as much as I was. However, he gave in to her pleas too easily. She was becoming as bratty as he was.
“Got it, alpha. I have one little question,” he whispered, stepping closer.
I took a step back. Did I not just ask him to cut the gayness and dramatics? Ugh. “Shoot.” I walked over, getting my wallet and key off the table. He followed closely.
“Did you get the ring?” He worried his hands nervously. For the love of fuck, man. How many different ways did I tell him not to mention it while Gia was anywhere near?
“What the fuck did I tell you?” I shook my head. Another one that didn’t listen.
“I know. I know. I’m just so excited. Well…” He waited. Clearly not moving until he had his answer.
“It’s in the safe. Okay? Now, shut your fucking mouth and stop being such a girl about it.”
He launched himself at me, hugging me. I removed his arms from around me. “I’ve got to jet. I’ll be back. Not a word, big mouth,” I warned. I was so ready to wrap up the night and get home to Gia. I told myself she needed to sleep after our earlier sexcapades. My beauty was well sated.
He mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key away. Damn his gayness was rubbing me the wrong way lately. I needed to be around the guys for a few hours.
“Lock the door,” I said, leaving without another word.
Ender’s door was left open. He had more than a couple of dozen people in his room. The music was cranking. The guys were all there along with some roadies and fan-girls. I saw Jake shoving something on the floor under the couch. Coke. Definitely. Way to shove it in my face. Invite me over with drugs, alcohol, and women. I clenched my fists trying to ease my cravings.
“Yo. Abel, what’s the good word?” Ender shook my hand. “I’m glad you came, dude. You haven’t hung-out in forever, bro. No worries. You’re here now. Soda, water, milk.” He laughed and I stepped up in his face. So, that was how it was. “Kidding, bro. Kidding. Relax.” He
held his hands up. “Where’s Beauty?” he asked as a buxom blonde bimbo walked over.
“Who’s Beauty?” She clung to his arm, batting her fake eyelashes.
“Her name is Gia to you.” I stepped up to Ender. I turned to the bimbo. “And it’s none of your fucking business, pole dancer,” I said, moving past her to speak to Dave.
“What the fuck? I’m not a pole-dancer, asshole,” she yelled. I kept walking until she grabbed my arm.
“You don’t know me. Get your fucking claws off me.” I shrugged her off.
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I do know you. You just don’t fucking remember, asshole,” she shouted.
I turned and looked at her. I didn’t fucking remember her. So she was a nobody to me. They all were up until—Beauty.
“Hey, keep it down. She’s my guest.” Ender tried to schmooze it over quickly. Too fucking late, dipshit.
“What the fuck ever. Honey, don’t go patting yourself on the back. You weren’t good enough to remember,” I responded with disdain.
“Asshole.” Her voice dripped with disgust. Yep, that was me. An asshole. Now fuck off.
“Where’d Dave go?” I asked Woody who was racking up the pool table.
He shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t care,” he spit out.
He was in a mood. “What’s up with you?”
“There’s fine looking Betties here and my fuckin’ balls hurt.” He grabbed his balls. He was a funny dude. Fucking horny fucker.
I smiled. “I hear that,” I said looking, around. There were a few good looking specimens, but nothing like my beauty. “You talk to Cindy? She coming back?”
“Aye. If yer old man lets her. Not sure it’s in the cards,” he said, smashing the rack of pool balls. His pool skills were legendary. A true shark. Tried to get over on people by pretending to suck. I had to laugh. He got off on taking people’s money.
“Solids,” he called out.
“I never said I was playing.” I laughed, looking for a stick.
“Whatever, pussy boy. Grab yer stick if you remember how to play,” he mumbled over the sound of the balls. One by one, he sank his solids. Why I bothered playing was a mystery to me; it was never a fair game. I didn’t bother chalking. I’m sure he’d sink every last ball as I looked on.
“Hey, Abel.” A tall, stunning brunette put her arm around my waist. I wasn’t in the mood for that kind of shit. Woody eyed me smugly. He always enjoyed the fuck out of me being uncomfortable.
“Hey,” I said, removing her arm from my waist. “Run along, kitten. I’m playing a game here.” I stepped past her.
“Kitten, huh? I like that.” She purred. Jesus, fuck, really? I didn’t mean it in an endearing way. “I’d like to mark that back up, baby.” She bit her bottom lip.
All the groupies knew I was with someone. That someone being my love—Beauty. This skank thought some purring would get her in my bed. Once upon a time…maybe. Not this time or any other time. Slut. The thought made me sick.
“I’m not single, darlin’. You’re wasting your time,” I told her straight out. There was no in between with these girls. They were there for one thing. And one thing only—cock. It didn’t matter whose it was. Any band member would’ve done just fine.
I checked my cell in case Beauty texted me. Nope. She was still asleep. Thank fuck. She’d be fit to be tied. Not in the way I’d like, either. I didn’t need the headache, heartache, or the motherfucking drama.
“I don’t see a ring on your finger, baby.”
That had my heart squeezing in the best possible way. Ring. The ring. I wore rings. Liked them in fact. However, that ring I never thought would be on my finger. It was the… I own you ring.
I was ready for that ring with her. So, I’d take off my others and just wear hers. From the little we spoke in jest, I knew she was traditional. It was fuck crazy. I didn’t see her as traditional at all. In fact, we were as non-traditional as you could get. But she wanted to start her own traditions. She came from a household of non-tradition. You always crave what you don’t have. I wanted her to have that. I’d give her her traditions. She’d also wear my collar in keeping with what I wanted—needed. I was planning on proposing on bended knee with a ring and collar. For love, you do it. For her, I’d do anything—anything.
“Not yet you don’t see one. But soon…very soon.”
Woody looked over, smiling with his pool stick. Shut the fuck up. I knew his ribbing was coming. Three…two…one.
“Is that so, mate?” he said, smacking my back. “Fucking brilliant.” He drove his hand through my hair.
“Fuck off, you queer fuck.” I pushed his hand away, fixing my new Mohawk fade.
“Nah, that be your assistant. I use my dick for pussy.” He grabbed himself through his jeans.
“How about we celebrate the three of us.” The slut hopped up on the pool table pulling her skirt up.
Damn. I didn’t expect that. Woody and I watched as she teased her fingers alongside the edges of her panties. Christ. I needed to get the fuck out of here.
“I want you to sing to my pussy, Abel. Woody can busy himself up here.” She opened her blouse.
Was she fucking kidding me? I looked toward the balcony for Dave. This chick needed to fucking leave. Or I needed to go. I looked to Woody for help. The others had their hands filled with tits and ass.
“Hold on, love. For fuck’s sake. You need to sort yourself. We’re playing an important game here. Not the ideal spot to be showing off yer box, sweetheart,” Woody said, looking for help. Game? Really? No fucking way was I touching that hot mess. “She’s a bloody mess. Help me, you fucker.”
I pulled down her skirt to cover her panties. “I’m fucking done. I’m not touching her. Ender? Get your ass over here,” I called out. With his phone in his hand, he stumbled over…fucking hammered.
Woody had her tits in his hand. “Sweet baby Jesus, they’re real.” He looked surprised. “Jake. Where’s Jake? He’s got to feel these fun bags.”
“I’m out.” I turned to leave. I was on a different journey than these fuckers. I was looking forward to bathing in Gia’s sweet scent. She was home for me.
“Can you take a selfie with me?” a young blonde asked. “Please? Two seconds,” she pleaded.
What the hell. I hadn’t done any promo or press lately. What’s a harmless selfie?
She was a tiny thing. I had to bend down. “Sure.”
She held up her phone and took a quick picture. “Thanks, I’ve been in love with you like since…forever.” She grinned weirdly. She came across very Amy Dunne. Fuck that noise.
I got the hell out of there before she tried to make me her Nick. This party had disaster written all over it. I walked out the door, leaving the party and all the shit with it behind. Later.
We were on the last leg of the tour. Lethal Abel was playing at the same venue U2 played—the Olympic Stadium in Turin, Italy. The name of the town was unfamiliar to me. But Italy was Italy, right? It was crazy cool to even be there, sharing this with him. I felt really bad about Cindy not being able to make it. With me being on the road for so long, they hired a temp and she had to be trained. Cindy was now the office manager, giving her more responsibilities. Which was a great step professionally. Personally, not so much.
It was so beautiful there. Dark leaved trees held bright lush fruit. The contrast was stunning. The aromatic smell was divine. It did my stomach a world of good. Finally. Now, if I could get my hunger under control, we’d be peachy.
My Sir spoiled me rotten and I soaked it up. He lavished me with spa days. By night, we ate by candlelight on our terrace. And the sex…it was so much more. He dedicated endless hours to giving me the most exquisite orgasms. Oh, I gave as good as I got, too. After he cared for me, he called a chef to come make me sugar crepes for dessert. That was this week’s flavor. I’ve tried them all. God, I was going to be a cow if I didn’t stop. For all the puking I did, I figured it all evened out in the end. I still had that voicemai
l on my phone. I refused to listen to it. I figured if I listened, it would make it real. Then, I wouldn’t be able to pretend the obvious.
“Get out of the window, love, and come back to bed.” He stretched across the bed for me. His colored skin was a stark contrast to the crisp white sheets.
I often watched him when he slept. He had such a peaceful look for such a broody man. To look at him, you’d never think he was as loving, caring, romantic, or affectionate as he was. His piercings, more than anything, else gave him a rough edge. An edge I loved to walk. All people saw was his scars. The lies on his skin. They didn’t know the real Abel. He was more than just his skin. He was my beautiful contradiction. If he could see himself the way I saw him. He’d know how special he was—is.
Being the impatient, broody caveman he was, he got up and carried me back to bed. “Give me that lush ass of yours, Beauty. How many times am I going to tell you no clothes in bed?” He tickled me.
“Hey, it’s not clothes, it’s a nighty and it’s see through. You make it sound like I’m in sweatpants and socks. You picked this out…remember?” I mocked him. He didn’t like my fresh mouth. I knew as much. I was being a brat. He complained about it, but I knew he loved it.
“It’s for show.” He laughed. “I want to see and enjoy all those curves.” He started removing my nighty. Curves? Was he saying I was getting fat?
“What the fuck does that mean? Curves…that’s a polite way of saying chunky. Right?” I sat up. I was eating like I was going to the chair, but so was he.
“Not at all, head-case. I’m glad to see your finally enjoying your food and keeping it down.” He kissed my shoulder, then preceded to kiss down my arm to my hand, individually kissing every fingertip.
There was a knock at the door. Breakfast. Ummhmm. I jumped up and grabbed my robe.
“I’m sending that fucker away. Get your sweet ass back in bed. I’m eating you for breakfast this morning,” he said, slipping on his sweatpants.
Forgiving Gia (Rocker Series Book 2) Page 16