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AXEL ALVARES
Axel hadthe best night’s sleep. A sexy woman in his arms, a comfortable bed, and… well, that was all he needed.
He lay behind her, watching the silhouette of her body as they faced the window. Soft purple hues painted her feminine curves as she laid on her side. From the dip of her waist to the swell of her hips. He didn’t care for the wondrous sight of dawn lighting the city outside. He only had eyes for her as she drew sleeping breaths. The only way this would be better was if she faced him instead of the window.
Last night when he’d asked her to sleep with him, he thought she would refuse. He also thought she might leave after her shower, and he’d wake to find her missing. But she’d allowed him to envelope her, and she’d cuddled back. He’d been prepared for a lot of resistance and had worked out scenarios in his mind on how he would chip away at her icy cold walls, but she’d melted into him like hugging was her natural state. Natural, but forgotten. Until now with him.
An aching need to always have her close, filled him to the point of pain. It had stayed with him throughout the night. He couldn’t understand why his feelings were so intense. His parents had always said their relationship was love at first sight, and he believed it. Right up until their death, they were hopelessly in love. His father would massage his mother’s feet nightly in front of the television, and she would dote on him and spoil him, especially at the dinner table.
When they were sick, they still managed to find time to care for each other—even when one had come straight from vomiting in the toilet. This kind of dedication was his guidance. Seeing them all but crawl to each other, to give their last breath to each other, it was the kind of love Axel wanted in his life.
To not be alone at the end.
He smiled. Daisy had stayed. She’d let them embrace, which meant somewhere inside she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It had to be that. At the very least, she was willing to give him a chance. And in chaotic times like these, having someone to hold made it all more manageable.
He glanced down the line of her body and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply. There was something about her scent that triggered every primal urge in his body and pulled his muscles tight. He exhaled and opened his eyes, then trailed a finger from her shoulder down her arm. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as he slid his hand over her waist, hips, and then around to her flat stomach. He tugged her against him.
He must have fallen asleep, because it felt like seconds later that the sun shone high, and Daisy twitched under his touch. It was late in the day.
“Daze?”
He pushed up on an elbow for a better view of her face. Sweat dappled her upper lip and plastered her camisole to her body. Her brows pinched together. Even the escaped strands around her face were stuck down and wet.
“Hey, minha margarida,” he shook her gently, but she hunched forward into a fetal position, exposing the purple scars along her spine. She trembled.
His vision turned red at the bruising. This was Julius’s fault. The scars, the ones he could see and the ones he couldn’t. Fuck that bastard. That Axel had ever made a deal with him made him sick to his stomach. In sleep, Daisy was a delicate flower. His margarida—his daisy. She didn’t deserve this. It broke his heart.
“Daze.” He tried shaking her again.
She stilled under his touch. So hot. So quiet that he thought her breathing had stopped.
“No,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. “No. Get off. No!”
A pillow beside her head started to float. Then the blanket corners lifted, then every little knick-knack and potted plant levitated. Books in shelves rattled and slid out. It was like they’d entered a zero-gravity zone. Daisy was telekinetic. First the ball, and now this.
“I said get off!” she shouted.
He snatched his hand from her shoulder. Tears glistened at the corners of her lashes. The items in the air twirled and rotated around them like they were in the center of a household tornado. Wind whipped past Axel’s face. A pot crashed into the window, spilling dirt. He ducked as another stormed past his head.
This nightmare had to end.
“Daisy it’s me. Axel.” He rolled her to face him. She lashed against him like he was hurting her. God, she was so strong. He flattened himself on her, hoping to contain her panic like a weighted blanket. “Daisy, you’re fine. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”
Luminous violet eyes popped open. She gasped. She gulped in air, hyperventilating.
He tightened his embrace and stroked her head.
“Shh,” he said into her hair. “You’re okay. It’s me. You’re okay.”
Every floating item fell in disarray. Whimpering, she pushed him off and then slapped her stomach. She fumbled to lift her camisole and checked her skin. A long, angry purple scar stretched from her belly button to between her breasts. It was fresh, rough, and bruised. She sighed and tugged her camisole down. She dropped her head to the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.
“A dream,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
Axel’s gaze was glued to that purple, jagged scar and it turned him cold. Without thinking, he shoved up her camisole again to reveal the old wound. So long. So… violent.
“Who hurt you?” he growled. He had a fair idea, but he needed her to confirm it. To say it out loud. Make the devil real. Make him a target.
“Julius.” She propped up on her elbow and glared down her body. “I swallowed strands of his wife’s and daughter’s hair. He thought he could cut me open and find them.”
