Page 58 of Beg Me Angel

Chapter Sixteen

Pax

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The days seemed to blend together, one after the other like the night never came and day never ended. I lost track of time, filling my days with her and keeping our world together.

That's what I was living for now, for us. Not the solitude, not the lonely nights and soundless conversations inside my own head.

I was finally right.Everythingwas finally right.

She hadn't asked me again about going into town or what we could do to get her answers. But it was there, sitting right in the back of her eyes, every so often stealing her away from me.

I could see it, her eyes would drift up or be stuck on some random object, her gaze empty, her mind off in some distant thought.

When my angel would fall into her thoughts, she couldn't hear me, she wouldn't notice I was talking or that I had just sat down beside her.

It hurt to know she had this unresolved pain she couldn't explain, but I knew that if she had more time; to heal, to be free—to be with me,eventually it all would fade away. That's what I wanted to believe, I wanted to think I could heal every part of her, even the parts I couldn't reach physically.

You know that's never going to happen. Not everything can be erased.

My selfishness was a plague, it wasn't doing her any good. If I had been able to keep the promise to myself, I knew we wouldn't be here. But I couldn't keep my hands off her and now I was refusing to cut her loose.

Nothing was as easy as I wanted it to be. I knew first hand what it felt like to be in her shoes, my experience was different, but it was still all the same. When your life is changed, when your world gets washed out from beneath your feet. . .

All of you goes with it.

I just couldn't accept the fact that I might not be able to cure her the same way she had cured me. That stung, it drove a heavy spear in through my gut, twisting and cutting away at my insides.

I promised her answers, I promised her I'd fix it all. But I was the asshole who left her with nothing. I hadn't done shit to give her what I said I would.

I'm a man of empty words. All talk, no follow through.

It wasn't that I didn't want to go out and look for the bastard, I just didn't know where the hell to begin.

The question I struggled with was how?

How do you ask questions about someone who's gone missing and not draw attention to yourself?

That was the hurdle, that was the elephant inside my head.

Curling my arm over her side, I pulled her into my chest and kissed the back of her neck. “Are you awake?” I asked, gently running my fingers through her hair and down her back.

Vera giggled, slipping her arm over mine and twirling her fingertips over my hand. “I am now.” Wiggling her back, she pushed herself closer, nuzzling up into my arms.

I loved waking up to her, to her warmth and the comfort of having someone to share my bed with. My world had been filled, the cracks were mending, the anger and rage fizzling away with each kiss I was able to give her.

When I looked in the mirror now I didn't see the same pressing black eyes or greedy, hate-filled smile. I could actually see me, see the man I was and the man I was growing back into.

All the hurt I caused, all the lives I had stole, they weren't forgotten. I couldn't just remove the pain I harbored from stealing so many men from their families. The men were supposed to be evil, they were supposed to be out to harm us.

But that didn't mean on some level they weren't the same as us. They had families at home, they had the same mission; protecting them from us.

Who was going to explain their death to the widow now left to feed and clothe and tend to her children alone?

It wasn't like I hadn't ever felt regret, but as time went on it slowed down, it shut off, turning into nothing more than a past feeling. I could have stopped myself, but I didn't. I let my mind twist what I was doing into something that was good for me, for the world I was set out to save.

Except I knew. . . I knew that for a few of those men they didn't have a choice, they were just doing the same thing I was; following orders.

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