Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)(5)

By: LeAnn Ashers

I am so blessed that my father didn’t use me, but one day, he would have turned his attention to me. My life was hell for as long as I can remember. How do I act now that I am away from that? What do I do from here?

“I will take care of you,” Jordan whispers into my ear.

I nod. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears in.

“Alisha, I’m going to hold you,” Jordan says bluntly.

I look at him. He smiles softly at me and scoots down on the mattress. He tucks his head in the crook of my neck, and I let out a deep breath at the feel of him.

He drags his hand slowly, gently across my stomach. His hand touches mine and he twines our fingers together. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of being held, his breath on my neck, and, most of all, being completely safe.

Feeling safe hasn’t happened easily for me. When you’ve spent your whole life walking on eggshells and all of a sudden you don’t have to anymore? The weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders.

“Sleep. No harm will come to you.”

It’s like he knows what I am thinking.

I tilt my head over to the side so it’s resting on top of his head. When I lift my arm and place my hand on his back, his body jolts at my touch before settling.

“Goodnight,” I whisper into the darkness of the room.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

I smile to myself and close my eyes.

Groaning, I shift in bed. I thought I was sore yesterday, but the word sore is going to have a new meaning today. I have to pee something fierce. I grab the side of the bed and lift myself up until I am sitting up. I slide my leg over the bed and slide off the edge until my feet hit the floor.

“Let me help you, angel,” Jordan says from the bed.

I look over and see him climbing out of bed in a pair of ball shorts. He is shirtless, and I see his eight pack. His tattoos run down his arms and wrap around his chest.

“It’s okay. I got it.” I clutch my stomach and my ribs. Each step jars them, and I moan. Peeing is going to hurt like a bitch because he kicked my kidneys.

“Let me help you.” He comes up behind me, bends down, and lifts me off the floor bridal-style.

The move makes me tense, and I hiss in pain. I feel bad when he looks at me sympathetically.

“It’s okay.” I smile at him.

His face softens. I lay my head on his chest for a second like I am hugging him.

He walks us into his bathroom, and I stare at the room in awe. The shower could hold ten people, and it has four showerheads. On the other side of the room is a huge Jacuzzi bathtub. Oh, I would so love to take a bath in that. The tub at the trailer was rusted out and gross all around.

“Want to take a bath?” He must have seen me looking.

I nod and say, “Please.”

He sets me down right in front of the toilet and walks out of the room, but he stops right at the entrance. “Yell for me when you are done.”

The door shuts with a click, and I remove a pair of boxers he let me borrow and a shirt Myra brought me. Each movement hurts like a bitch.

I sit on the toilet and let go. “Oww,” I cry out as I pee. I look into the toilet and see that I’m peeing blood.

The door flies open and Jordan runs in. He looks at me and immediately turns around. I am in too much pain to even care that he is seeing me pee.

“What is it?” he asks.

I dry my eyes. I feel pathetic. Why would he want to be around someone like me? All I have done is cry since the moment he rescued me.

“I am pissing blood,” I say bitterly. After I wipe and stand up, I slowly pull the boxers up and walk over to the sink to wash my hands.

“Let me grab some pain meds.” He leaves the room.

I look at myself in the mirror. There are bruises all over my face, on my neck, and on my arms. I wince at the sight of my stomach, which is literally one big bruise that starts from the top of my pants and goes to my ribs.

I’m still inspecting my stomach when Jordan comes back into the room. His hand touches my stomach and I jolt. I see his furious expression and grab his hand to get his attention. His gaze goes to mine, and I smile.

“It’ll heal.”

He nods and turns it over, and drops a pill into my palm. Then he hands me a glass of water. I pop the pill into my mouth and take a drink of the water to wash it down.

“I’m going to run you a bath. I want you to relax while I go make breakfast,” he tells me and pushes my hair over my shoulder.

I start to argue with him because I’m not used to anyone making me breakfast. Actually, I’m not sure of the last time I had an actual breakfast. A real, fresh breakfast, not some leftovers or something. My mouth waters at the thought of having such food. Food was always hard to come by in my house. When we did have food, I would stockpile it in case we wouldn’t have more for a while. Which was often the case.