Page 37 of Lawless
Come on, Wilder. You know body parts. What does she have exposed? What's vulnerable?
I could barely see through my eyes now swelling shut. My face felt wet and I tasted a big mouthful of blood, but from the weight I felt, my adrenaline-stricken mind gathered she was straddling me. So I drove a knee up, just hoping to take her by surprise and buy an extra second, maybe two.
And it fucking worked.
My knee hit her somewhere in the back or the butt, I wasn't sure. But it made her fall forward. Through my bloody, blurred vision I knew she was close enough to my face to kiss me. So I grabbed her by the throat and squeezed.
Heather let out a gurgle of surprise then immediately started thrashing, clawing and twisting to get my hand off, but I held on like my life depended on it.
I used my free hand to punch her in the stomach, probably weak as hell but what else could I do?
At some point I couldn't hold any longer and she broke away, coughing and gasping for air. Somehow I got my feet underneath me, the ground rolling as if threatening to bring me down again. Heather was doubled over, coughing and trying to suck in big gulps of air. I stumbled over to her as she tried to get away, and just as I fell, I brought an elbow down right on top of her kidneys.
I couldn't tell if that ear-shattering scream was hers or mine, but I felt a hard kick to my ribs and the bite of the pavement on my face. There she was again, a face floating among the stars and blurred colors of my vision, so I swung my fist and hit something.
I felt wetness on my knuckles, and bones underneath soft skin, so I hit again and again, no longer certain where I was or what I hit.
At some point, my fist swung and hit nothing. Someone grabbed me from behind, so I twisted and tried to kick, but a voice came through the ringing.
"Stop, Mariposa. It's over."
"No! The fight's not over!"
"It should have ended minutes ago!" snarled whoever held me. "Get the fuck out of my way!"
Was that...Reaper?
The world spun and I thought was falling again, but no ground slammed up to hit me. As the voices and commotion drifted away, I realized somewhere in my foggy brain that I was being carried.
"What're you..." I squirmed in vain to get away from this person holding me under the knees and across my back in a bridal position.
"Stop it. I'm helping you."
That gruff voice was so close and clear now, I froze in disbelief. I almost felt Reaper's lips brush across my forehead as he spoke. This had to be a dream, or a hallucination. I definitely had a concussion. But then I heard his voice again.
"I want to show you something."
Oh, fuck. He's gonna feed me to his pack of dogs. That's why he kept me and fed me well at the barbecue last night. I'm dog food.
Wetness caressed the fingers of my hand hanging down. I thought it was blood so I tried to flick it away, only to feel a cold nose and a gentle tongue licking me again.
Hades. It felt like he was reassuring me that I was safe. I hoped he was right. Everything hurt and I couldn't fight anymore. And I was so fucking tired of trying to protect myself.
Succumbing to my exhaustion, I allowed my head to drop onto Reaper's shoulder. It was a good, solid shoulder.
I didn't know how long he carried me for, but his strength never faltered. At some point I heard a click and a door open, then bright lights stabbed me like knives in the eyeballs.
"Ahh!" I ended up burying my face more in Reaper's shoulder, practically nuzzling him.
"Sorry. When your eyes adjust, let me know what you think."
He sat me down on a cold, flat surface, then the support and heat of his body was gone. I brought my hands to my face, partially to check my injuries but also to shield my eyes, which now felt incredibly light-sensitive.
Some cursory poking and prodding of myself told me I didn't break any bones in my face. I probably looked like a bruised, half-rotten tomato, though. Blinking carefully, I slowly lowered my hands to gaze at what Reaper wanted to show me.
"What...is this?" I breathed in disbelief.
"The medic's office," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a washcloth. He wet it under the sink and wrung it out before approaching me slowly. I sat frozen as he gently touched the cool, wet cloth to my cheek. Nothing ever felt so good in my life. He hesitated for only a moment before dabbing away at the blood on my face. I decided to distract myself from the swirling confusion at the gentle way he touched me, plus the fact he was caring for me at all, by looking around the room.
