Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)(6)

By: LeAnn Ashers

“Thank you, Jordan. I don’t know how to act, with you being so nice and all,” I admit and clasp my hands in front of me, nervously wringing them together.

He looks at me and my breath comes out in a whoosh. I forgot how handsome this man is. This man got me through some rough times and he didn’t even know it. Just seeing his face and hearing his jokes over FaceTime were enough to give me hope in humanity. He gave me something to look forward to.

“That’s a fucking shame,” he says. “You deserve to be treated this way every day.” He strokes my bruised cheekbone.

I close my eyes at the touch. I’m not used to gentle touches. The first hug I’ve had in years was from him.

How my life has changed in these twelve short hours.

Yesterday, I was in hell, and now, I’m not. What do I do now? How do I act? I don’t have to walk on eggshells now or be so tense or worry all the freaking time. It’s a weird feeling.

The water turning on in the tub breaks me from my thoughts. He sets down a bath poof, a razor, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner and puts in some bubble bath. I smile at how sweet and thoughtful he is.

He turns around and notices me smiling. His eyebrows arch, and then he gets that mischievous smirk he sometimes gets. I have to roll my eyes.

“Can I have directions?” he asks.

I look at him, confused. “To where?”

“Your heart.”

I burst out laughing. That’s the Jordan I know. He used to crack these random jokes all the time, and no matter how ridiculous and cheesy they were, I loved it.

He grins at me, and I shake my head, smiling.

“I will grab you another shirt of mine and a pair of boxers.” He leaves the room and comes back a minute later. He hands me a towel and the clothes. Leaving the room, he shuts the door behind him.

I let out a deep breath, wincing in pain. I strip out of the boxer shorts. I climb the small steps to get into the tub, step inside, slowly sit down, and lean back against the back of it.

Letting out a moan, I sink farther in so that the water is up to my collarbone. This is the best thing in the world. The water stings my cuts, but the heat is so soothing to my body.

I can’t stop the grin that comes over my face, but it immediately falls as I look at my body covered in bruises from the man who hurt me. My father. The man who was supposed to protect and love me above everything else. I feel betrayed. My chest hurts at the pain.

Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes, unable to look at the bruises any longer. They are too painful of a reminder of the hell I just escaped.

I prepare the steak-and-potato dinner for us. I want to fatten her up. She is way too skinny. Her ribs stick out way too far.

Those bruises that cover her skin set me on edge. I want to bring her father back from the dead and kill him all over again. What gives anyone the fucking right to hurt someone like that? Let alone his own daughter?

I smash the knife on the counter, sharp edge down. Closing my eyes, I brace my hands on the edge of the counter and count to ten, wanting this anger to be gone before she walks down those stairs.

Shit, I probably need to go help her. It’s been thirty minutes. So I plate the food and place it in the microwave so it will stay warm.

I climb up the stairs and enter my bedroom. Knocking on the bathroom door, I call through. “Angel, you okay?”

It’s silent. Shit, is she okay?

“Angel?” I call again, and it’s still silent.

Fuck this shit. I open the door. She is sound asleep, with only her head sticking out of the water, her bath poof tucked under her arms. Her dark lashes fan across her cheekbones, her lips are pursed, and her wet hair floats around her in the tub.

She’s beautiful.

The bubbles have dispersed, which leaves her body on display. I take her in—she’s gorgeous. I spot the towel on the counter, grab it, and walk over to her sleeping form. I bend down to be closer to her and whisper, “Angel, wake up.” I touch her shoulder.

Her eyes slowly open and connect with mine. She smiles a blinding smile, and it hits me right in the gut. Fuck me.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She looks at her surroundings. Her eyes widen, and she brings her hands to her breasts, hiding herself.

“Here.” I hand her the towel and reach behind me to grab another one out of the drawer. “I’m going to help you out of the tub,” I tell her, not taking my eyes off her to gauge her reaction.

She looks slightly freaked, but she nods.

“I’m going to lift you out so you don’t hurt yourself trying to stand.” I put the extra towel over my shoulder. I move closer to her and look directly into her eyes to let her know I won’t look at her body.