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She turns in my arms to hug me, and almost the moment she does the sky opens up pouring enough of a deluge upon us to wash away any sin.
Chapter 27
Serena
I probably shouldn’t be riding on the back of Smoke’s motorcycle after everything I’ve been through, but I find that’s the only place I want to be. While our club cleans up the mess they made rescuing me, Smoke puts me on the back of his bike, and we hit the road. I don’t care if it’s raining cats and dogs, or that the road is wet. Compared to what happened today, riding in the rain is a breeze. I cling to Smoke, realizing he’s all I really need to be happy.
Once we’re well clear of the area, he stops and gets us a hotel room. It’s a good idea, since I’m mentally and physically exhausted and the ride home would take another couple of hours at least. Once we’re inside he starts a shower for me and grumbles one more time about my refusal to get checked over by a doctor. I don’t want that, don’t feel like I need it.
“Come on, sweetness. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says as he begins helping me out of my clothes.
I don’t realize how much of my abductor’s blood landed on me until I see my clothing on the floor. I can imagine how much ended up on Smoke’s dark suit, he’ll have to fork out a small fortune to get that dry cleaned. At that thought, I start laughing.
“What?” Smoke asks.
I shake my head, “Nothing, I think everything is getting to me.”
He walks over and wraps his arms around me, gives me a soft kiss on my forehead and steers me toward the bathroom. Standing in the shower with the warm water flowing over my tired body feels like heaven. I let Smoke soap me as I enter some kind of twilight phase where I’m awake but not alert enough to reciprocate.
The next thing I know, I’m clean and dry. Smoke is drying my hair with a fresh towel and then finger combing the tangles out. He scoops me up into his arm and carries me to the bed. I barely protest as he slides me between the sheets and covers me up. Finally, he presses a cup of water to my lips.
“Drink up. You’ll think me for this later.”
I drink as much as I can in one go and shove his hand aside. “Why do I feel worse now than when we were fighting those assholes.”
“The adrenaline rush is wearing off,” he responds quietly.
I vaguely remember learning about how when your faced with a life-or-death situation your body releases adrenaline to help give you energy and focus. My therapist explained this to me when I sought treatment for my panic attacks as a teen. Panic attacks were the body doing the fight or flight response without a true threat. I guess tonight my body worked just as it should do and saved me, and now the threat was over I felt at peace, in what seemed like the first time in forever.
I snuggle down under the blankets and sleep claims me before I can tell if Smoke is going to join me. My dreams are dark and filled with danger. There are shadowy figures, monsters chasing me. The faster I run, the slower I get, with the monsters always just nipping at my heels. I’m running to get away from them, but also trying to warn Smoke that they’re coming for him too. Suddenly, I’m teetering on a bridge. I glance over my shoulder to see a river with fast moving rapids. If I fall in, I’m dead. And the monsters are still coming for me. I try to step away from the edge of the bridge, but my feet won’t move. It’s as if they’re glued in place. I stumble and realize that for some reason in this messed up dream, I can only step toward the edge. A gust of wind blows me forward and right before I topple over the edge, someone grabs me and pulls me back. It’s Smoke. He saved me. But he doesn’t know the monsters wearing human faces are closing in on us. I try to tell him to run, but only garbled words come out. I take a big breath and scream with all my might, “Run Smoke. Run!”
Instead of running, he’s shaking me. “Serena, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
I bolt upright and look around the room. Smoke is dressed in jeans and button up black shirt. I’m still naked under the covers but there’s a stack of clothing on the bed that looks like they’re for me. I can smell coffee and food, maybe breakfast.
Pulling the blankets up to my chest, I croak out, “How long. How long have been sleeping?”
Smoke takes the lid off a bottle of water and hands it to me. “All night. It’s nine in the morning. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“I thought you’d say that,” Smoke replies. He reaches over and picks up a box of Tylenol and takes out two. Handing them to me, he says, “Here, take these and when you’re ready, I have food for you.”
I stop for a moment, wondering if I should take them, I haven’t told Smoke I’m pregnant yet, and I’m trying to find the right time. Then I remember when my sister, Nicole, was pregnant the doctors said these were okay, so I swallow the two tablets and then drink a few extra mouthfuls of water.
“Want me to help you get dressed?” He asks with a concerned look on his face.”
I must look like absolute garbage for him to be so worried. Brushing my hair out of my face, I reply, “No. Just shove the clothes over to me and I’ll dress myself.”
He does as I ask, and steps away to give me privacy. I can tell that Smoke always wants to do more for me than I let him. The thing is, I’m an independent woman and I won’t let any man take that away from me. I find a pair of black leggings and a sweater that looks soft and warm. Everything still has tags attached, so I know he did a shop while I slept. I pull on a pair of socks and walk over to the small table where Smoke is setting out food for us. When I get that first sip of coffee it does a lot to right my world. I let Smoke put food on my plate. The bacon, eggs, and toast look and smell so good it makes my stomach growl. It reminds me that I haven’t eaten in roughly twenty-four hours.
I take a few bites and then slow down. Smoke is cutting up fruit and putting it into a little bowl. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask.
“Already did. My stomach was in knots. I gave it some food so it would have something to do besides worry me to death.” He glances up briefly with a sly smile that alerts me he’s trying to use humor to ease the way, like I’ve done in the past.
“You’re a funny guy when you want to be,” I say with a tired smile.
“You feeling better now that you got some food and coffee down?”
