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I rev the engine, the bike lurching forward, and we speed off into the night. My mind is a whirlwind of pain and adrenaline, but the feel of Sadie’s arms around my waist anchors me.
The adrenaline doesn’t last nearly long enough. My battered body has had it. I feel myself starting to slip away, and I let off the accelerator and steer us into the shallow ditch at the side of the road. I’m losing control, but I’m lucid enough to brake, trying to soften the fall I know is coming. In what feels like just a split second, we’re on the ground. Sadie is standing over me, rimmed by moonlight like a goddamn angel. I try to crawl toward her, my fingers clawing at the dirt. I’m almost there. I just have to make it to her. I—
CHAPTER14
Sadie
Pain hasa way of pulling people together or tearing them apart. As I watch Slash, unconscious and bandaged up on the bed at the motel, I’m not sure which one it’ll be for us. His face is pale, the tattoos on his arms standing out starkly against the sickly white of his skin. His breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps, each one seeming to require more effort than the last.
Bones told me the bullet missed his vital organs, but it was a nasty wound to begin with, and Slash ripped his stitches out rescuing me. Plus, the bike’s exhaust pipe burned right through his jeans, searing an expanse of his thigh. He did a lot more damage that night, and he’s spent the past few days in a feverish haze. He was lucky, Bones says. But as I see him lying there, vulnerable and still, it doesn’t feel much like luck.
I spend days and nights by his side, holding his hand, talking to him, trying to pull him back to consciousness. “Come back,” I say over and over. My voice echoes in the room, bouncing off the dingy cream walls, my words becoming a mantra of hope and stubborn defiance against the grim reality of our situation.
His skin is hot under my touch, and fever burns through him despite the IVs pumping him full of antibiotics. I wipe his forehead with a damp cloth, the coolness a temporary relief against his heated skin. I tell him about the town, about how the Reapers have taken up patrols to keep the Iron Serpents at bay. I talk about the weather, about the mundane and the ordinary, anything to keep my mind from spiraling into the abyss of ‘what ifs’.
The first time Slash stirs, it’s so subtle I almost miss it. A twitch of his fingers, a flutter of his eyelids. I squeeze his hand, my voice catching in my throat as I call his name. His eyes blink open, clouded with pain and confusion, but it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
“You’re back,” I whisper, tears blurring my vision.
His recovery is slow, agonizingly so. There are moments when he curls in on himself in pain or arches his body off the bed while Bones changes the dressing on his burns. I hold him, whispering words of comfort, ignoring the hot tears that spill down my cheeks.
His strength ebbs and flows, some days better than others. On good days, he manages to sit up, leaning heavily against the pillows. He eats a few bites of food, his face paling with the effort, but he persists. On bad days, he’s lost to fever dreams, his body weak and shivering.
But through it all, I stay. Because no matter how much it hurts to see him like this, the thought of leaving him is far worse. I promised myself I would see him through this, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.
* * *
Despite my continued protests, Slash stubbornly insists on recovering in the motel room rather than in a proper hospital, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself or the club. Still, I have to admit this is pretty close—Bones has brought in enough equipment to rival our little community hospital.
“Sadie,” Slash murmurs one afternoon, his voice weak and hoarse. “You don’t have to stay here with me, you know. You should be out there, living your life.”
I shake my head, refusing to even entertain the idea of leaving him. “I want to be here. I want to be with you, to help you heal.”
He attempts a weak smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve done more than enough already. You don’t have to keep sacrificing yourself for me.” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity of his emotions. “Sadie, I… I’m a fucking black hole, okay? If I let you too close, you’ll get swallowed up. I can’t let anything happen to you—I’ve done enough already. Can’t you understand that?”
His words sting, and I can’t help but feel a flash of anger. “Is that what you think this is?” I ask, my voice rising slightly. “Some kind of sacrifice I’m making? Or that I’m some small-town idiot who can’t be trusted to make her own decisions? I’m here because I love you, Slash. And I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks at me with such intense tenderness that my heart breaks. “I love you, too,” he says, and it’s like the words are slicing his throat on their way out. He runs his fingers over my jaw, then pulls me close and gives me the kiss I’ve been desperate for these past days. It quickly deepens, but I pull away when he tries to pull me on top of him.
“Your leg,” I say. His burn is brutal, and I know it’s agonizing. I’ve seen his face while Bones changes the bandages and Slash thinks I’m not looking.
“I don’t care,” he growls, tugging one of the straps of my tank top down my shoulder. I laugh and gently push his hand away.
“Icare. And it’s not happening.” I pause, smirking, then add, “But I can help in another way.”
I get up and quickly make sure the door is latched, then sink to my knees at the side of his bed next to his uninjured leg. I gently pull down the blanket and find his boxers tented impressively already. I ease them down, and his cock springs free, slapping his hard stomach.
I plant a soft kiss on the flat plane of his tip and glide my tongue under the edge, making his abs tense. Staring into his eyes, I roll my tongue in slow circles on the underside of him. He’s so smooth and warm in my mouth.
“Sadie,” he chokes out, voice breaking. He brings my left hand to his lips and kisses my fingers, then slides two of them into his mouth and slips his tongue between them. It’s unbelievably sensual, and I gasp around him, suddenly wetter than I’ve ever been. It feels for all the world like his tongue is between my legs. I take in more of his length, moving my hand in rhythm over the part of him I can’t fit in my mouth.
Slash twists my hair around his free hand, just tight enough so it almost hurts, and holds me against him for a moment. I keep perfectly still with the flat of my tongue pressed to him, letting us both feel it.
Finally, unable to resist, he uses the hand fisted in my hair to move my head, signaling me to resume. Still sliding his tongue over my fingers, he lets go of my wrist with the hand not wrapped in my hair and slides it down my shoulder and around to my breast. When he finds my nipple, I cry out, making him groan when the vibrations hit his cock.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers, and I don’t argue. My hand slips between my legs and over my clit. “I love the way your mouth feels on me when you moan,” Slash says, and I feel him tense. “Come with me,” he demands, and as he erupts in my mouth, I follow him over the edge.
* * *
