Page 53 of Enemy of the State

“Make him bleed out.”

With every slice Digs makes, the tension coiled around my muscles lessens like a sedative drip slowly leaking into my system.

He makes several strategic cuts down his forearms and steps back as we all watch the remaining blood in his body spill onto the floor, joining his discarded body parts. Everyone looks on quietly; the only sounds in the room are the whimpers from the dying fuck on the floor and screams of impending doom from the other, unfortunately still breathing, arsehole.

“Shut the fuck up and watch the show, Borman,” Honey Eyes demands of his captive.

Too soon, the medic breathes his last breath, his chest going still. Just as I’m about to start in about the next fucker, Digs steps over the dead man and approaches me.

Louhi

“Take Borman next door and deal with him,” Digs orders Honey Eyes, the two of them disappearing as Honey Eyes drags the screaming guard from the room.

Digs slices through the bindings at my feet and my breaths become more rapid as I snivel, “Wait—”

Rancor sparks, tossing gasoline on my fiery need for retribution. I’m not finished with those who dared to snuff out my light. Digs ignores me, however, slicing through the rope over my head. My muscles fail me as I fall into Digs’s powerful body, his strong arms wrapping around me as he catches me.

“Shut the fuck up and let me take care of you, Lou. Honey Eyes will keep him warm for you, I promise.” Part of me loves that Digs is calling his mate Honey Eyes now. I hope that nickname sticks long after I’m gone from this place.

He drapes my body carefully across the table in the corner of the room, the biting chill of the metal making me grimace. My wounds pull and sting, but I grit my teeth against the discomfort. Digs disappears and returns a moment later with clean hands and a first aid kit. While I think I’m far past a first aid kit, I don’t say anything as he begins cleaning some of the deeper cuts with antiseptic, making me hiss.

My eyes fill with tears—from the punch of physical or emotional pain, I don’t know—but blink past them, fixing my gaze on the ceiling for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I thought—I thought you were with them.”

His eyes, the color of sunlight kissing the vast ocean, soften in a way I’ve never observed from him. “I told you that you could trust me.”

“You…you proved it,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“I said that I would.”

A warm tear slips free, sliding down my cheek as we observe each other, but I don’t make a move to wipe it away. My lashes grow heavier, clumping together, as I fight the urge to let the dam break.

“I’ve never trusted anyone before,” I admit. “Except for my brother.”

His movements halt as he sets the bottle of disinfectant down next to my bare shoulder. As his masked face appears above mine, he brushes a hand over my hair, the look in his eyes spearing me right in the chest. Like a bell tolling, I can hear the sepulchral tone of my heart for the first time since my parents’ death.

Would it really be so bad if I let this man in? How dangerous would it be for me to give Digs a tiny piece of myself? Fuck, I want to open for him like I’ve never opened for anyone.

The tectonic plates between us shift as Digs trails his hand from my head down my face, my neck, my breasts. He leans down, pulling his mask up over his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to lick the bleeding cut just above my nipple, before nipping at the tightened bud.

“Damn vampire,” I hiss.

His dark chuckle reaches my ears. “I’d bleed you dry if that’s what it took to be with you.”

To be with you.Is that what he wants? Is that whatIwant? Bloody hell, I think it might be.

Doubt creeps in, and I pull my upper body up to lean on my forearms, my abs seeping more blood with the movement.

“I—I don’t even know what you look like.”

“Is that what you need? To see my face? To know what you’re getting?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual.

“No.” I already know I’ll find perfection beneath his mask. I don’t need to see his face to know exactly the man I’m getting in Digs.

“Good, now lie back.” My argument now removed, I gingerly do as I’m told, and he yanks me toward the end of the table by the ankles. I choke on the breath caught in my throat as white-hot pain lances through the open wounds on my back, setting my nerve endings on fire. Curiosity and excitement bubble through me, eclipsing the pain, as my legs dangle over the end, my arse at the edge.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Making you mine.”

---