Nitro's Torment (Sydney Storm MC 2)

Please.

I swayed as another wave of nausea assaulted me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I reached out and placed my hand on the wall to hold myself up. My head swam with dizziness and I struggled to draw breath in.

Just as I thought I would pass out, strong arms circled me from behind, taking care to avoid my ribs as best they could. Warm breath hit my ear as a deep voice said, “Vegas. I’ve got you.”

Always saving me.

I leaned my head back, against his chest, and took a deep breath. The nausea rolled through me again and I retched one last time. Nitro held me and pulled my long hair back as I vomited. I wasn’t sure why, because it was already coated in puke.

When I finished, he slid one arm across my chest and held me tight. His body leaned away from mine as if he was reaching for something. A moment later, he flicked the tap on before then placing a wet washcloth to my forehead.

“You need to vomit any more?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly. “No, I’m done.”

His arm dropped from my chest and he turned me to face him. Handing me the washer, he said, “Here, clean your face. I’ll get you a towel so you can have a shower.”

He was right—I needed a shower. But I wasn’t sure I had the energy to give myself one. I took the washer, though, and nodded. “Thanks.” It barely came out as a whisper, but he heard and returned my nod before leaving to find a towel.

The coolness was a welcome relief against my warm skin. I held it over my face the entire time Nitro was gone. Truth be told, I didn’t want to move it away. I liked the dark shield it gave me from the world.

I didn’t want to deal with the world that night. All my emotions had been stirred up in the last forty-eight hours, and I’d gone from being numb to feeling like I wanted to come out of my skin. My soul was alive with feelings and I didn’t know what to do with them. My usual response was to bury them deep, but that didn’t seem possible.

“Here.”

With another deep breath, I removed the washer from my face and looked up at Nitro who stood watching me with a serious expression tinged with concern.

I placed the washer on the vanity and took the towel he offered.

When I didn’t speak, he asked, “You need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

He hesitated for a beat, as if he was unsure whether he was still needed. It seemed so out of character for him. Well, for the man I knew so far. Something told me there was a whole other Nitro hidden under the gruff asshole exterior he presented to the world. Certainly not a Mother freaking Theresa, but I’d seen enough to know he had the ability to care for people.

Once he decided I was okay on my own, he left the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sagged against the vanity.

Fuck.

I took a minute to centre myself before pushing off from the vanity and slowly removing my clothes. It fucking killed to move because of the agony my ribs were giving me, but I eventually stepped into the shower and let the warm water soothe my aching body.

I cleaned myself and washed the vomit from my hair. Nitro’s toothpaste was in the shower so I also cleaned my teeth. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been that sick. Usually alcohol didn’t cause me that kind of hell. Which told me it also had to do with my messed-up mind.

When I finished, I dried myself off and wrapped the towel around me. I had clean clothes in my bag that we’d picked up from Nitro’s house earlier that day, so I opened the bathroom door to go in search of them.

Nitro sat on the seat waiting for me. Darkness surrounded him except for a small amount of light shining in from outside, just enough to see. Enough to make out the uncertainty etched on his face. He stood as soon as I entered the room. His gaze dropped to take in the towel I wore and he immediately reached for my bag and placed it on the chair.

“Thanks,” I murmured and unzipped it.

He remained silent while I dug around in the bag for something to wear. The stillness in the room unnerved me more than I already was. I suddenly found myself in a state I hadn’t found myself for years.

I need shelter.

Someone to tell me it was going to be okay.