Burn (8 page)

             
“You need some weight on you, babe. I’ll be enjoying the taste of your womanliness. I’ll be getting it the worst. If you haven’t already heard, I’ll be bald.”

             
I brought my hand to the back of my head where he was resting his face and tugged on his hair. “I’m not sure I could be with you if you’re bald.”

             
“The hair has gotta go at some point regardless. I can’t have it this long forever.”

             
“Now you’re breaking my heart. I never want you to cut it off.”

             
He kissed my hand as I stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll stay long ‘til your heart’s content, Tiny.”

             
“Good.” I moved up and gave him a swift kiss on the lips. “I’m glad you see us having a family. I always thought…” I paused, unsure how to say what I was thinking.

             
“You always thought what?”

             
“With you not having a father around… I always thought you’d be against being a dad yourself.”

             
I watched his face carefully. I didn’t want to upset him. The topic of his father was never something he enjoyed touching on.

             
“Having a deadbeat father abandon mom and me before I was even born has been more than enough incentive for me to be the best dad ever when the time comes along, Sara,” he explained with a soft, reassuring smile.

             
I nodded. “I’m glad.”

             
“The same goes for you, though. You had the crappiest childhood with the most piece of shit father I’ve ever seen and a mother who cared about her alcohol more than her own daughter. You sure that isn’t going to leave you any scars?”

             
I shook my head adamantly. “No. How they treated me will never affect who I am. I could never become them and I never will.”

             
I shook with the certainty, revisiting every evil thing they’d done to me. The words they’d say, always blaming me and hating me, and calling me a life wrecker. As I grew up, I figured it was because Mom was young when she had me, and she’d endured a crap pregnancy that resulted in my premature birth. If I ever did anything wrong around the house, I was called a “birth defect
little thing
.”

             
No child of mine would ever feel the mental pain those words created.

             
I turned my brain off and rested into Jaxon’s arms, feeling the protective warmth of him and knowing I would never be treated badly by him.

*****

I felt Remy’s hand running along my hip, and then a few strands of my hair
were tucked away from my face and behind my ear. My first coherent thought upon stirring from my dream was,
how odd he’s touching me for once.

             
I knew his hands well. I’d sought them out more times than I can count in the night. They were always hot and smooth, not what I expected from a big Jackal like him. I could place them anywhere on my body and I was guaranteed warmth – and no, I never placed them anywhere intimate. My skin leeched off his heat and spread it head to toe.

             
The hand now touched my collarbone, and then it trailed up my neck. The cold, callous feeling jump started my heart immediately.

             
That’s not Remy’s hand.

             
Instinct had me opening my mouth to scream before my eyes even opened. Nothing came out. Harsh, heavy tension pressed against my neck, and I tried aimlessly to flail my body around, to get away from him. He was staring down at me – a large, heavy set man with pale blue eyes and a thick brown beard. I’d never seen him before in my life, and he was here, inside the bunker, killing me.

             
Where’s Remy?
I could see nothing except for the round face before me and his black clothing inches away from my face.

             
I’m going to die! This is how I’m going to die.

             
Pain erupted around my face, and the pressure of life being sucked out of me built until my chest constricted painfully. My vision blurred as a veil of darkness began to form around the edges.

             
All I wanted to do was scream, to cry, to beg for mercy, but this man was intent on killing me, and I was beginning to stop the fight. If death was inevitable, I may as well accept it.

             
They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. Load of bullshit, or maybe I wasn’t as close as I thought. But there was one thing that did flash before me, and it was Jaxon’s face.
I wish he knew how much I have always loved him. I wish it didn’t have to end this way…
It’s shocking how much thought can span one second in time; remorse flooded me at all the horrible things I’d done, and then pain at knowing I would never have the opportunity to correct my mistakes.
I’m sorry
, I kept thinking,
I’m sorry I never made it right.

             
The pressure immediately lifted off of me, and in the dizziness the room spun repeatedly while I opened my mouth as wide as possible and inhaled all the air I could into my lungs. Deep breaths came in and in and then out and out, over and over again until my senses were back and I could hear the sounds of heavy grunts only feet away from me.

             
Vision spotty, I blinked rapidly and sat up, watching in horror as Remy’s wet, naked body tackled the man. It was an uneven fight – the killer so large, he had Remy by his own neck and slammed against the wall. Panicked and fear stricken, I watched like a coward on the sidelines waiting for an outcome.

             
What the fuck are you doing?! Get up!

             
Get up!

             
GET UP!

             
I practically fell out of the bed. My legs felt loose, unable to function properly. Adrenaline and trepidation merged into one, and I found myself jumping on the killer’s back. My hands scratched wildly at his face, and one of his arms let go of Remy’s neck and grabbed at me from behind, pulling at my hair and ripping chunks right out of me.

             
I screamed from the pain but continued digging my fingers into his face. He growled loudly and abruptly jerked to his side, knocking me swiftly off his back. I collided into the oval mirror in the corner of the room and it crashed to the floor beneath me. Sharp pain erupted from my hip.

             
I’d helped enough to loosen the killer’s arms against Remy’s neck. He was fighting back now, but they were still tumbling around, heavy grunts in the air, fists against flesh. What the fuck could I do except try again? I painfully got back up and jumped back on him, screaming wildly as I dug my fingernails into his face again. One went into his eye and I could feel a squishy, wet sensation as I continued to bury it in there.

             
He hollered loudly and I felt him take several heavy steps back. Cold hands grabbed at my own and twisted them roughly off his face. A force knocked against him and he fell back, me along with him. Air escaped me as I fell to the cement ground with him on top of me. I could hardly breathe and flailed wildly beneath him, searching once again for air.

             
I saw Remy suddenly hovering over him, lifting him to a sitting position. There was a piece of mirror in his hand. I backed away just as he slashed him deeply into his throat. Loud guttural noises erupted from the killer, and I shut my eyes as Remy continued to work the mirror into his neck, moving it from ear to ear. The look on his face pierced me to the bone – the flat pressing of his lips, the anger in his eyes, the calmness in which he commanded the piece of mirror he was using to kill him.

             
Blood splattered everywhere, over his body and over mine. I wasn’t even aware I was still so close until Remy let go of the man, and he slumped to the ground a foot away from me, a river of blood flowing from his almost decapitated head.

             
This wasn’t like Brett.

             
No tears escaped me. Just wild shakes from head to toe, my eyes now wide as saucers, taking in the sight before me – of a man that had taken merely seconds to die at the hands of the man I’d been seeking warmth from all night.

             
“Stop lookin’,” came Remy’s voice.

             
Arms wrapped around me. He picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. I looked over his shoulder, at the puddle of blood and the lifeless, pale man slumped on his side.

             
Dead.

             
“Stop lookin’, Sara,” Remy repeated roughly.

             
He sat on the toilet seat and cradled me into his chest, but I wasn’t even there to feel him. My mind had long separated from my body; self-preservation at its best steering me away from the horror of what just happened. I couldn’t stand to feel. I needed the numbness, wore it desperately to keep the shock at bay.

             
I didn’t stop to care for his reaction. Though he was calmly holding me, I heard frantic movements and felt the shaking of his shoulders. I opened my eyes and searched the noise. He was wiping away the blood from his hands vigorously with toilet paper. His skin looked raw at how hard he was scrubbing. The blood still caked between the indents of his skin, and I could hear his unsteady breaths echo in the bathroom.

             
After a while, he stopped. I figured he didn’t want to get the blood on me, but I was covered with it. This was odd.

             
“Look at me,” he then said, softly. He moved me away from his chest and brought a hand to my chin, craning it up to meet his eyes. He looked into mine for a few beats and shook me lightly, “Sara, look at
me
. Stop it.”

             
I was looking right through him, and he knew it. After several moments, he brought me back to his chest and held me tightly to him. I buried my face into him, clutching him as hard as I could around his arms.

             
“He’s gone. You’re fine now, Birdy. You’re fine. Don’t think about it. Don’t stop and think about it. It’s over. It’s done.” He kept saying these words to me, as if any second they’d hit me and I’d rouse out of my numbness.

             
I didn’t. I was very quickly losing myself.

Six

He wanted to keep me in the bathroom while he sorted the scene out, telling me not to step out no matter what. When he made to leave, I gripped him as though he was an extension of me. Panicked, I begged him not to go.
That I needed him. That he couldn’t leave me alone.

             
“I need to get some reception, Birdy. Give me fifteen minutes to make a call—”

             
“No! You can’t leave me!” No, no, no. He couldn’t go. He grounded me. Kept the bad thoughts away. If he left, I’d feel the shock of what happened and would lose all sanity.

             
“Birdy—”

             
“You’re not leaving me!” I shrieked into his chest and dug my nails into shoulders, refusing to budge on this.

             
He exhaled deeply and stroked my hair. “Alright,” he finally said. “But you’re closing your eyes. You got it? You will
not
open them.”

             
I nodded frantically. Whatever he wanted, I’d do. Just… Just…“Just don’t go.”

             
He carried me back out into the room and bent down to grab what felt like clothes. I hadn’t stopped to consider he was still in the nude. Any nice person would have allowed him some privacy to change. But fuck nice people. He could change with me gripping him like a vine. The man was capable enough.

             
I kept my eyes shut even when we left. The light of dawn pierced through my eyelids, and when I finally opened them, I watched tree after tree pass on by. He was carrying me through heavy bush, stepping over large fallen branches. I peered down at the ground and saw a thin sheet of frost the sun would soon melt. This was my first time outdoors since…since… well, how long now? Four weeks? I was finally breathing in fresh air, feeling wind against me, and the chill that winter bore quickly reduced me to shivers in Remy’s strong arms.