Page 18 of Burn Like An Angel

Xander doesn’t care. Not in the way normal humans do. He’s destroyed his own ability to do exactly that. I’ve often wondered what he feels for us—his surrogate family. It can’t be love. He isn’t capable of that.

I didn’t think I was either, but I’m fooling myself if I think I shared my body heat to stop Ripley from dying of hypothermia just for the company in hell. And I’ve deluded myself enough in the past.

That’s how I lost everything.

I won’t lose it all again.

We broke each other, and for good reason. But those reasons feel irrelevant now in the cold light of day. If it wasn’t for her, I’d still be rotting in that basement, shackled and bleeding out in a padded cell.

Sinking into the hospital pillows, fatigue and weakness crash over me. I have enough energy left to turn my head to the side, giving me a direct view of the adjacent bed.

Raine’s hand is still clasped over Ripley’s limp one, his head tilted back as he contemplates. I can’t help but stare at them. Thefamiliarity. The intimacy. His palpable fear and clear devotion to her.

What I’m not prepared for is the piping-hot burst of emotion that stabs into me, over and over in a relentless assault on my damaged sanity. It isn’t anger. That I can recognise, utilise,control.

It’s… jealousy.

Well, fuck.

I’m jealous of Raine, sitting there like a goddamn guardian angel, holding the hand of the bitch who saved my life. He’s earned her trust. Her love. Her vulnerability. That’s why he gets to touch her and I don’t.

That realisation only magnifies the feeling tenfold until I’m choking on the barbed wire lodged in my throat, taking the razor-sharp edges deep into my oesophagus and letting them shred apart my insides.

I want to shove him aside and take his place at her side. Ripley would certainly reject me. Deathbed forgiveness doesn’t mean she’s ready for all the thoughts running through my mind. I need to play this safe.

She’s given me a second chance.

Now I have to earn her forgiveness.

CHAPTER 3

RIPLEY

UP IN FLAMES – RUELLE

Hands bracedon the edge of the bathroom sink, I stare into my hollow hazel eyes. Bloodshot. Lids drooping. Wrinkles pronounced. The brown and green swirls are overshadowed by black bruises and swelling.

I study my reflection, seeing a scared girl raising her hand, fingertips lightly dancing over each purple cloud and crusted laceration. Her eyes swim. The tears brim over, spilling down her cheeks in glistening ribbons.

“Rip?” There’s a gentle tap on the door. “Everything okay in there?”

Sucking in a breath, I quickly scrub the tears aside, ignoring the way it makes my skin ache.

“I’m f-fine, Raine.”

The door between us feels like an endless ocean, the raging torrent stopping us from clinging to each other to stay afloat until rescue comes.

“Can I come in?” he asks softly.

“I… I don’t know.”

There’s a thud, like his forehead connected with the door. After straightening my septum piercing, I fill my hands withwater, sloshing it over my face in an attempt to clean the blood. Dark, russet streaks cling to my skin.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Raine coaxes. “But if you really want to be alone, then I’ll go.”

I stare at my reflection again. The water hasn’t helped. I’m a fucking mess. Being confined to a hospital bed may have replenished my energy levels, but my entire body is now technicoloured with bruises.

I woke up to darkness after passing out then remained silently curled up for several more hours while the others bickered about what to do. It wasn’t until the shouts and cries from a nearby fight roused me that I resolved to move.

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