Beauty in the Broken

“Lina.”

Goddamn, I want to fuck her so badly. Need is both a physical and mental torture. My dick is so hard it hurts, but the images in my head are worse. The things I imagine doing to her are the ultimate sins.

Letting my lips barely touch her skin, I drag them over her neck up to her ear. I can’t bear to leave without saying good morning. It pains me to disturb her sleep, but it pains me more not to see her pretty eyes, so I start waking her gently.

“Lina.”

Nothing. Well, hell. She’s a deep sleeper. Nipping her earlobe, I repeat her name, this time giving her shoulder a soft shake. Not a stir. An alarm goes off in my mind, shrill and fearful. Bolting upright, I shake her harder.

My voice comes out angry, like a cold command. “Angelina, wake up.”

She’s still the ragdoll I used from last night, beautiful but unconscious of my actions.

Fuck. Shit. Fear is cold and hot and every temperature in between. I just married her. I couldn’t have fucked it up already. I’m in my pants before I’ve finished yelling for Zane. I’ve just covered her body with the sheet when he storms into the room, wearing boxer shorts and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What in God’s name, Dami?”

“Keys.” I flick my fingers at him. “Handcuffs.”

He looks between confused and grumpy. “On the nightstand.”

“Do it.”

My instructions are cryptic, but I’m too frantic to think, let alone speak. She has suicidal tendencies, and I allowed Zane to leave her alone.

Straddling Lina, I slap her cheeks. “Wake up, angel.”

She groans in protest, and something inside me gives, something I didn’t know I had. It’s a needle at the bottom of a haystack of emotions, but I don’t pause to dissect it. I’m too busy pulling Lina to consciousness.

Zane fiddles with the key, at last managing to free her arm. She whimpers as he lowers it.

“That’s it,” I coo, not only nursing this small, too frail woman, but also my nerves. “Open your eyes.”

Her lashes flutter as she fights to obey. I know the feeling. I fought my way back to pain from the mercy of unconsciousness on a concrete floor more times than I care to recall. Finally, she breaks through. Her eyelids lift and her freaky blue eyes stare at me. There’s incomprehension as she tries to focus and remember where she is. Prying first the left then the right eye open, I study the blood vessels in the white of her eyes and the size of her pupils.

“What did she take?” I ask Zane who stands by quietly.

“A sleeping pill.”

I want to knock his head into the bedpost for being so careless, but I tamp down my anger. Information first. “Only one?”

“As far as I know.”

“Bring me the bottle.”

“I took it away. I’ll have to go get it in my room.”

First clever thing he did. “Get it.”

He jumps at my barked command, almost running for the door.

Her voice is hoarse. “Damian?”

“I’m here.”

Her body tenses as she fully surfaces from her chemically induced sleep. Her eyes settle on my face. She takes in our positions. “What are you doing?”

“What did you take?”

She pushes at my shoulders, the grogginess gone and the fight back. “Get off me.”

I probably should. My belt is hanging open, the button of my pants undone, and even under the circumstances, I’m hard for her. Zane returns as I get off the bed. He pushes a bottle of pills into my hand. I read the label. I’m not a medical expert, but the brand is a household name. The dose is way too strong for her weight. I fix my gaze on Zane. I don’t have to speak for him to know I’m fucking furious.

Flustering, he blabbers, “She said she needs it to sleep. She begged me. How was I supposed to know?”

God knows I owe Zane, but I’m in his face. “Fucking common sense.” I shake the bottle. Pills rattle. Zane flinches. “This is too strong for her.”

“Am I supposed to contradict her doctor?”

“If this happens again…” I can’t finish the sentence, because I’ll have to give the one man who has my back a threat. Instead, I let it hang, let him get where I’m going, and he does.

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Get me a glass of water.”

He rushes to the bathroom. The faucet turns on. It’s only then that I turn my attention back to Lina. She’s not only watching me, she’s looking into my soul with the keenness of a practiced observer. My worry over her leaves me wide open, but I can’t make myself care. I’m too relieved she’s here, present, in her scrunched-up nightdress and cum-crusted panties.

Zane returns with the water. I don’t thank him. He doesn’t deserve my gratitude. When I support her head and bring the glass to her lips with a command to drink, he’s still standing at the bedside with his hands clasped together.