Feel My Pain (Curse Bound 1)

When they stepped into their old but cozy room, Zane considered dropping Roach to the floor and leaving him there, but the bastard had weakened his heart, molding it into a shape he desired, and Zane couldn’t bear leaving Roach to such discomfort. Not when Roach was heaving and could choke on his own puke.

The nausea was getting worse with each step, which made it clear that going to bed would be a supremely bad idea. Zane’s back ached, as if the muscles inside it were about to snap, but he picked up his pace and dragged Roach to the tiled bathroom.

Roach slid to his knees and grabbed the toilet the moment he saw it.

Zane’s middle twisted, as if an invisible hand squeezed around it, pushing up the contents of his stomach. He bent over the sink and vomited in sync with Roach. Shivers rushed up his body in a series of stings, and tears dropped from his eyes on the stained porcelain.

He was tired. So, so tired.

Eventually Roach rested his cheek against the toilet seat without opening his eyes, salivating over it as he breathed hard through his mouth. It made a picture so pitiful Zane no longer had the desire to rip him to pieces.

He tied his matted, damp, stinking hair into a bun, so it wouldn’t get in the way until he had a moment to wash it, and used a damp washcloth to clean Roach’s pale face. Tears of anger, disappointment, and fatigue kept falling down his face, but it didn’t matter, because Roach was out cold, and he wouldn’t see them. Nobody would get to see the extent of Zane’s misery ever again. It was his only.

He removed Roach’s clothes and dropped them into the corner for washing later. The big idiot wouldn’t remember any of this, and he wouldn’t care that Zane had taken care of him. Fair enough. He didn’t need to. He was free to wake up and continue hating Zane. It no longer mattered.

The sun was peeking through the blinds with the faintest purple shade by the time Zane got Roach into pajama pants and a fresh T-shirt, but he still needed to take a shower himself or he’d die.

He grabbed his phone to check the time, startled to see a new text message. From Karla.

[Rise and shine! Ready to explore the magical and mystical? I'm back from Texas and ready to see you at noon.]

Zane glanced at the bed, his face flushing when he realized that he was ready to cut off that ball and chain even if it meant he’d be leaving Grit with a limp.

And a broken heart.

Chapter 25 – Roach

The déjà vu of driving to the clubhouse overwhelmed Roach for the blink of an eye, but then he was back on the bike with Zane’s arms around him. Only that he’d fucked up last night, and Zane wouldn’t speak to him.

Roach wasn’t a great mediator, and a hangover still muddled his thoughts, so he left things be for now, because he couldn’t handle another argument before their meeting with Karla.

Last night had been so nice until the fucking argument that had gotten out of hand. No matter how embarrassing it was in the moment, Roach had felt so special when Zane had sang for him. Even if being out in public still made Roach nervous, the pride that had filled him when he thought about Zane claiming him as his PBJ exceeded the anxiety tenfold.

The snow blowing into his face made the drive far slower than he would have liked, but he wasn’t looking forward to seeing the black skeleton of the old clubhouse either. In an ideal world, he would have stopped time before yesterday’s clash and done things differently.

So maybe he shouldn’t have lied to Zane’s face like that, weaving a tale that wasn’t remotely close to the truth, but Zane had still overreacted, throwing a childish fit over some fake past love of Roach’s. Big deal. As if he hadn’t promised Roach death many times before.

What had he been supposed to say? That he’d learned to deep throat on his father’s cock? Could this not stay buried deep in the past? He was feeling sick just thinking about it and wished for that part of his memory to be locked away in some underground vault that could never be reopened. He was tainted, and he didn’t want Zane to know.

Zane’s arms tightened around Roach when he pulled into the road leading to the ruins of the clubhouse. The snow hadn’t formed a thick layer yet, but the fallen branches and trash littered the driveway since it had fallen into disuse, forcing Roach to maneuver around things Karla must have driven over. With the leaves long gone from the trees, the dark pink SUV parked in front of the sooty structure was easy to spot, like a single pimple on an otherwise pristine face.