Page 44 of Demons in My Bed
He paused at the door. “Forgot to tell you. Fight night tomorrow.”
That brought a smile to my face. “Perfect.”
“Thought you’d like that plan. Booze and blood to get some jaws to slacken…”
“What’s it going to take to get yours to tighten?” Palmer grumbled into the pillow, and my mouth fell open in shock. Ashland and I met each other’s eyes. His expression wasn’t as carefully guarded since she couldn’t see him, and he looked every bit as shocked as I felt. Then the two of us started laughing like a couple of idiots.
“Oh, little rabbit. You’re a poisonous little thing, aren’t you? It’s okay, my dick still wants you.”
A small middle finger shot up into the air, and Ash winked at me before spinning out of the room. I settled back into the pillows and tugged the blanket up, covering my lower half. After a few moments, Palmer picked up her head and glanced around before turning to grin at me.
“Thank fuck, he’s gone. Are we going to sleep now?”
“Yeah, I need it,” I admitted, rolling onto my side to talk to her easier. Her eyes were the prettiest shade of navy blue that popped with her dark hair. A few soft freckles were sprinkled over the bridge of her nose, giving her an almost cartoonish look combined with those big eyes. Like a princess in a fairy tale. I wasn’t going to tell her that though—I valued my balls.
“What the heck is that all about?”
“What? The painting?”
She huffed. “No, not the painting. The staying out for hours on end, painting the side of a fucking lighthouse, not returning phone calls or texts to let anyone know you’re alright…”
“Okay, okay. Fuck,” I breathed, running a hand down my face. “Sometimes I get in my head. It’s how I unfuck my brain.”
“Unfuck your brain. I like that description. So what’s it like?”
It didn’t seem like she was teasing me, or hell, judging me. She seemed interested in what I had to say. “Um, well… I don’t particularly like blood. As you saw earlier. It’s not just blood though. I just don’t like feeling… dirty.”
“So we won’t be mud wrestling any time soon?”
My eyes flew to hers just in time for her to wink at me, and my heart rate settled. I barked a laugh. “Fuck no.”
She shrugged and her eyes fell shut. “Okay. So you got blood on you or something last night?”
“Eh, not exactly. It’s a long story. But it sent my brain for a walk down memory lane, and I just didn’t want to deal with it, ya know? So I grabbed my shit and came here. The others know that when I disappear like that it’s because I’m creating.”
A small scoff left her tired body, like she didn’t believe what I was saying. “They seemed kind of worried about you.” Her eyes remained closed but she scooted a little closer.
“Nah, baby. Nobody’s worried about me. That’s how I like it. I can do my own thing that way, and no feelings get hurt. Art is an escape for me. From reality, the past, whatever. It’s the only thing in my life I’ve had that I could completely immerse myself in, and have it be all mine. When I’m creating, I go into this… shit, how do I describe it? It’s like subspace, I guess. All I can see is the project, the brushes or lines of my art, and I can’t stand stopping before it’s complete.”
“That sounds nice. Like your own hidey-hole safe space in your brain. It’s gorgeous art, ya know? So much of it too, so you probably take a lot of time-outs, hmm?”
I thought about that for a second. She was right. Some people had a physical location that made them feel like I did when I was doing art. I had my brain and my ability to hyperfocus.
As I formulated my thoughts, the sound of her breathing changed, and I realized she’d fallen asleep. Why the fuck had I told her all of that? I wasn’t the kind of guy who shared a lot of information, especially not personal sort of shit. Definitely not with a woman I’d just had a threesome with.
And yet, she hadn’t looked at me like I was a freak. In fact, it was almost as though she understood on some level. Part of me wanted to wake her up and find out what she thought about my phobias. Then again, I was working on accepting the fact that it didn’t matter what anyone thought about it.This is who I am; it’s who I’ve always been.
Self-acceptance was a freakin’ bitch.
Sleep was calling me, the sounds of Palmer’s breathing luring me to oblivion. It took a few minutes, but I pushed everything from my mind and let myself slip under.
Chapter fourteen
Vibrationwokeme,andmy eyes flew open. Blinking quickly, I saw the room slowly come into focus.
“Right,” I said softly. I was in the lighthouse.
“I usually am, yes.”
