Page 60 of Misted

Just knowing that he breathed somewhere under the same sky kept me alive. Why can’t we go back to that?

But a part of me mourns the idea of spending a second away from him anymore.

Don’t stay alone with him.

“Leave me the hell alone, Hawk…” I try to add bite to my words, but the pain in my head paralyses my speech.

“You’re going to fucking bleed out.” He growls and snatches my arm. The knife clutters to the ground. Or I let it go. I don’t even know.

I hate how much my body leans into his warm embrace. How much I want to close my eyes even for just for a moment.

No. It’s the withdrawal messing with my emotions.

Hawk inspects my arm then curses. He yanks off his T-shirt almost ripping it open in the process. I sway, and my vision blurs, but I greedily hold on to that sight of him.

He’s always been a sight, but he rarely removed his clothes and I almost never saw him fully naked. The broad ridges of his muscles and his hawk tattoo flex with every move as he wraps his T-shirt around my arm. Small bird tattoos fly from his side to his chest, where his heart rests. These are new. I only saw the hawk tattoo when we were teenagers.

“The fuck were you thinking?” He snaps and my hazy eyes falls on him. My lids are heavy, and I can feel my vision blackening.

I clutch his strong forearm. My sweaty, bloody fingers dig into his flesh. “I need… Omega…”

“Not fucking anymore.” He grunts. Before I can make out the meaning behind his words, my world starts to darken.

I fall, and for the first time in years, I’m not scared. It has everything to do with how his strong arms surround my waist.

Black sucks me in.

Past,

“Jump!”

I look down at Hawk with a tightened stomach. He’s too far down. I’ll be jumping to my death.

“I’ll catch you.” He flashes me his rare, confident smile. “I’ll always catch you.”

He will. I know he will.

I suck in a deep breath and jump.

Present,

My eyes crack open with a low moan. The throbbing headache pounds on my skull, almost splitting it open.

Where the hell is my dose?

I shake my head and roam my gaze in my surroundings. It’s the same room I woke up in… today? Muslin curtains still cover the window, but there’s no sliver of light. It must be night already.

That means more than three days passed without Omega.

I need the hell out of here.

I try to get up, but something yanks me back.

Ropes.

Both my wrists are tied above my head to a nook in the metallic bedpost. My ankles are also tied to the foot of the bed, leaving me spread eagled.

What in the ever living hell?