Page 71 of Long Live the King
He still hasn’t come back.
I’m angry at him. Not for how he grabbed me, but for how he used our deal to silence me. Maybe in his world it’s natural to tell a woman to shut up, but not in mine. Doing as he asked was purely an act of good sportsmanship and a healthy dose of self-preservation, but I’m irate.
The knot in my stomach has another name though. Concern. Because regardless of his reaction or the way he lashed out, I’d said something that had gotten through his walls and struck true.
Hurt usually disguises itself as this same type of explosive anger. I also don’t want to psychoanalyze him and give him more credit than he’s due.
He’s probably just an asshole for no good reason.
I’m glad Phoenix is with him. Not that I know him at all, but at least Rogue isn’t alone. I wonder what he’s up to and if anyone else is with them.
I find myself hoping they’re alone.
I want to suffocate myself with my pillow for being so stupid. I’m quickly spiraling. I can’t stay in bed like this for a second longer. I throw the covers off me and pause when I hear a noise in the hall.
Rogue. He’s back.
From the noises I can make out, it sounds like he opens a door and peers inside. It closes, I assume behind him, until I hear his footsteps getting closer.
I throw myself back down on the mattress, yanking the duvet over me as I pretend to be asleep.
I’m just in time.
Seconds later, the door to my room opens. I work to keep my breathing even and the muscles in my face relaxed as I hear him approach.
He’s standing on my side of the bed, above me as he stares down at me silently. I wish I could open my eyes and see his face, but I don’t want another confrontation.
I hear the clinking of a belt, followed by the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He walks around to the other side of the bed. I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping in here with me or in his bedroom, but assuming he’d join me I’d used the decorative throw pillows and lined them up to create a wall that separates my side of the bed from his.
He snorts loudly. It's followed by the sound of something hitting the floor.
He’s throwing all the pillows off the bed.
He gets under the covers and lies on his side before wrapping an arm around my middle and yanking me against his hard body. Immediately, his body heat overwhelms me, the warmth enveloping me in a comfortable cocoon. I can feel the defined planes of his washboard abs against my back, his strong arm curled around me in a protective hold that ironically makes me feel safe.
He smells of bourbon and cigarettes. It’s such a rugged man smell and fits him completely. Discreetly, I inhale more deeply.
I don't question why relief is the dominant emotion I feel when Idon’t detect any unknown scents on him.
I can feel his heartbeat steady against my back as he sets his head down next to mine, his breaths weaving through my hair.
“Are you awake?”
I don’t answer, making sure my breathing is steady and my body remains weightless. He lowers his head to kiss my bare right shoulder as he mumbles what I assume is his version of an apology against my skin.
“My bad.”
???
18.
Rogue
When I wake the next morning, she’s gone.
The amber scent she’s left behind wafts up from her pillow and I resist the urge to bury my face in it and inhale deeply.
I scrub my eyes viciously instead, trying to get the look on her face from when I’d lashed out last night out of my head. She should be used to me losing my shit but if the fear in her eyes was anything to go by, it had caught her off guard and scared her.