Lethal (The Disciples 1)

He lowers his forehead to mine, his face almost pained as I try to catch my breath. Never feeling so free, I sigh and wrap my arms tighter around him. Gone is my sickness. It’s only Jason and me.

“Angel, look at me.” He kisses the side of my mouth as he pulls out yet keeps me caged in. I’m still catching my breath as I lock eyes with him.

“When was your last period?”

“What?” I whisper.

“When was it?” He rubs his nose with mine and all of a sudden, I know he knows.

I push for him to get away from me. He takes my hands and holds them on top of my head. “Take a shower. I have a doctor coming in an hour.” He releases me and gets up.

“A month ago,” I lie. It sounds desperate and guilty. After a deep breath, I say, “I had my period a month ago,” pulling the sheet up around me.

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” He reaches for his cigarettes watching me as he lights up. I have to turn my head. Smoke makes me sick.

“You’re wasting your money,” I snip, almost choking on my words. My mind spins but at this second, my main priority is not puking again. “I’m not pregnant, but… I may be sick.” I cover my mouth fighting back the gag that is threatening. He inhales deeply and looks down at me. “Let’s hear it, Angel. Tell me how you’re sick.”

I inch back until I feel the cool metal of the headboard. Reaching for one of the pillows like it can shield me, he inhales and blows smoke out and I close my eyes.

“What? Don’t like the smell of it, do you?” His smoky hand grabs my chin. “Speak. I want to hear what you think you have. I mean that’s only fair, right? After all, I’m the one who’s going to foot the bill. Tell me.” He rubs his thumb across my lips, back and forth almost like he’s pulling it out of me.

“I… think I might have cancer.” My eyes fill with tears. He drops his hand and runs his other through his hair as he takes a deep drag and moves to the ashtray sitting on the windowsill. I watch almost trancelike as his long, muscular legs and ass move. He’s so perfect it’s almost not fair. God, he’s even been blessed with a thick, giant penis.

“Cancer?” he says slowly, smoke escaping his mouth as he blows it out. “Cancer?” It’s as if he’s testing the word. “Huh… I guess it’s a good thing that I have doctors ready and willing to make house calls. You should have told me earlier, Angel. Cancer is nothing to fool around with.” He’s using that tone that I hate. It’s the tone he uses with people he’s getting ready to demolish.

Swallowing, I look around and try not to panic.

“Go take a shower. The sooner we get this out in the open, the sooner we can move on.” He jerks open a drawer and pulls on some dark jeans. His chest still glistens with drops of moisture from the shower and I stare wide-eyed at his tattoo. The wings reach from one shoulder to the other, the long blade almost piercing his solid, ripped eight-pack. My face heats up as I realize he’s talking and I have completely zoned out. Admiring his body and face is so much better than my reality.

“Go, Eve.” I jump up. His eyes follow me as I walk to the bathroom. His room is big and airy. Almost cold-looking, it barely has any furniture; its only warmth is the sunlight that fills the large windows leading to the view. Two large doors look like the opening to a wooden deck. This place is incredible. Why would he not fill it up and live here? I shut the bathroom door and look around. It’s white and spotless. I thought the clubhouse was clean, but this bathroom puts it to shame. The tile is white except for the shower, which looks to be black-and-white tile. The towels are large and so snowy white I almost don’t want to mess them up. Jason’s used towel is on the floor. The smell of fresh spice lingers in the air.

Tentatively I use the toilet and notice the hardware is bronze. With a turn of the faucet, I almost jump back as the shower releases a sudden blast and water jets out at me. I step in and close my eyes, terrified. If this turns out bad, my father and I might be fucked. Absently I realize that I have completely become dependent on Jason. He’s made it so that I am. Taking my time, I let the hot water caress me as I try to think.

If I have something horrible, but curable, hopefully I can convince him to at least let me stay until I have more money saved. If it’s really bad, I have to be ready for the worst. I reach for the soap and instantly recognize it as Irish Spring, then have to use his AXE shampoo. Turning off the water, I step out and wrap the towel around me. The sound of a woman’s voice makes me freeze.