“Nothing! Christ, he was so into it. Couldn’t you tell?”
My eyes bugged. “He was laying there like he was dead.”
She shrieked at me, twisting this way and that to evade my hold as she snarled, “He came onto me.”
I wasn’t sure what world she lived in, but it was one I didn’t like inhabiting too. When Security stormed over, their eyes wide at the sight of her half-dressed and me with a bloody cut on my head, they took custody of her.
I sagged back against the door and reached for my handkerchief to press it to my forehead. Blood was getting in my eyes as I snapped, “Are the EMTs on their way?”
“Yes, sir,” one of them confirmed, grunting as Rhode kicked him in the shin. She forced her knee high, aiming for the family jewels, but the other guard stopped her in time.
I watched as she writhed in their arms like some kind of belly dancer on meth as I ordered, “Send them up here right away. They’ll need a gurney.”
“Sir?”
“She attacked Micah Nygard. He’s unconscious.” At least, he looked that way to me. Even if his eyes were open.
“Everything was consensual, you prick,” she screamed, and my mind, on the run after thoughts like those, triggered something that was so unlike me that I’d be incredulous later...
My hand snapped out of its own accord.
I’d never hurt a woman in my life—not physically anyway—but this wasn’t a woman. Rhode was a lowlife. Pond scum. She used her family name, their position in society here as a shield, to hide the fact she was a rapist.
But as I was inches from connecting with her, Security saved my ass by dragging her back and away from me. I wanted to lay into her, and if she’d been a man, I would have. I totally would have ripped her a new one while rearranging her fucking face.
“He’s lying on the floor like a zombie. You date-raped him, you evil bitch.” I spun on my heel, unable to deal with her shit. “Take her away. You’re fired, Rhode. No notice, no fucking anything. Once your arse is out of here, that’s it. You’re done.”
“I’ll see you in court!” she snarled.
I cut her a look over my shoulder. “I look forward to it.”
Her eyes were wild as she took in how calm I was right then. At no other point had I been. But now, the litigation that I’d been avoiding for months didn’t matter. I felt like shit for prolonging this where Lizzie was concerned. Robert had killed himself but it was my lover who prompted me to shove two fingers in the face of caution and to throw Rhode’s ass to the curb.
Granted, I had a criminal suit to back me up, but still...
She snarled more abuse at me, hissing and shrieking, forcing the guards to grunt and groan as they dragged her to the elevator, but I ignored her. Instead, I rushed over to Micah, and dropped to my knees.
His dick was hard, throbbing, and a bright, bright red that seemed unnatural. Especially without any stimuli. I reached down, and though it felt wrong, I tucked him away and fastened his zipper, but his cock remained a prominent bulge.
Throughout my shielding him, he moaned, a long, low groan that reminded me of the noise I’d heard him make that one time he puked in my presence, which was the reason we’d both taken an extra day off to make sure we weren’t contagious anymore. Without these past few days together, I might have thought he was aroused, but he wasn’t.
His eyes were dazed, his face oddly slack from the drugs, so I figured the moan might be a warning. The only problem was that, from his position, I knew if he vomited, he’d end up choking on it. Quickly, I grabbed the waste paper basket and popped it between his slightly spread legs.
With that done, I shuffled him around, and propped him up so he was resting against my knees before helping him sit up slightly. When he wasn’t flat on his back anymore, but his body was like one big portion of ramen noodles, I twisted him so that he was leaning forward and over the trashcan.
Seconds later, he was sick. Hoping that would help lessen the grip of the drugs she’d forced on him, I held him tightly, pressing my face into his throat after I quickly kissed the crown of his head. I wanted him to know he was safe. More than anything, that was all that mattered.
That he was safe now.
That he’d always be safe if I had my way.
Regrets would come later—for now, he was my focus. Exactly as he should be.
Twenty-Three
Micah
He was there.
Throughout the endless sessions of me puking up whatever she doped my coffee with. When I had blood drawn, and was given a rape kit—they tried to make him leave the room, but he wouldn’t.
And I was glad.
Even as my brain wasn’t working, even as I was dazed and confused—sucked into an oblivion that felt endless, that made my brain churn and my stomach heave, that made me question whether I was asleep or awake and whether this was a night- or a daymare—he was there.
In those moments, where my mind didn’t belong to me, he was the one thing I registered.
That chocolate-churros’ scent was there. Comforting me. Protecting me. Loving me.
It was, in fact, how I woke up.
Not in a hospital room like I’d almost dreaded, but in bed. His bed. That was why it scented so strongly of him.
For a moment, all I could remember was cleaning up Devlin’s puke when he’d been sick, and I thought that was what had happened. Even though it wasn’t the first time I’d awakened, because I’d been momentarily aware during the rape kit, enough to give my consent to the entire thing, but it was the first I had a chance to think. Rather than experience unpleasant things.
I wasn’t puking. My head hurt but it wasn’t banging enough to want to puke again. People weren’t touching me, needles weren’t pricking my skin. Inside my mind, there wasn’t an endless scream...
I blinked again, wondering why my eyes felt like they’d been rolled in salt, then his soft, husky voice murmured from somewhere in the room. “Would you like some tea?”
Head too heavy for my neck, I rolled it on the pillow and found him standing in the doorway. He had some paper stitches on his temple and a black eye—when the hell had that happened?
Frowning with confusion, I rasped, “I’d prefer coffee.”
“You Americans and your coffee,” he chided, the low tenor was infinitely soothing. I figured he could lull me to sleep if he wanted to. “Tea will cleanse your palate.”
I noticed he had a mug in his hand, and as he walked toward me, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a baggy navy hoodie, it was, I recognized, the most dressed down I’d ever seen him.
Had I triple-jumped into a parallel universe?
He propped himself on the bed beside me, making it jostle, even as the scent of him wafted toward me. Warm. Comforting. I didn’t think I’d ever associate the smell of him with anything but.
I just wasn’t sure why.
Even as I was.
Which was confusing.
I knew, but my mind wouldn’t register the facts.
He placed a half empty cup on the nightstand before he leaned over and helped me sit up. It was only the fact that it was half empty, that it was his cup that made me say, “I’ll have some tea.”
He arched a brow but passed me the mug, then turned it in his palm so I could grip the handle.