Page 16 of The Biker's Captive
“Christ…” Pans looks pained as he runs his hands though his hair. A groan wrenches from his chest, and he staggers to the door of the cage.
“Don’t leave.” I try to pull him back, but with my bad leg but I’m too slow.
He slams the door behind him and locks it in place as I drag myself to the side of the cage. I don't know if he's locking me in or locking himself out.
“Pans,” I call out again, and he must hear the desperation in my voice because he turns to face me.
His face is a picture of agony. The struggle that’s going on inside of him is clear on his face.
"Willow, when I'm around you something comes over me.” He paces as he talks, and I grip the sides of the bars and lean my heated forehead against the cool metal.
“There’s a beast inside me, a darkness, and when I’m around you, I can’t control it.”
"Maybe I don't want you to control it." My voice comes out as a whisper, but it stops him in his tracks. “Maybe I want to see what’s inside of you. Maybe I want to know all of you.”
He takes a step towards me, and his fingers close over mine.
"You couldn't handle me, precious. I would break you."
"Maybe I want to be broken."
We take in deep, ragged breaths, staring at each other. His face is agonized and vulnerable, like a man broken.
"Where does it come from?" I ask suddenly. Because I see a broken man, a man battling with his demons.
I slide my hand free from his and reach through the bars to caress his face. Some of the agony relaxes from his expression.
"Talk to me, Pans. Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”
He stares at me for a long time, and I met his gaze, unwavering. Whatever he’s got to tell me, I’m ready to hear.
After a long moment, he closes his eyes and starts to speak.
"I was in the military for a lot of years.” He says it with a long exhale of breath as if that's the explanation, and maybe it is. "I was in Afghanistan.”
He’s still got his eyes closed, and his forehead creases as if he's reliving the memories.
"I saw too many things. I did terrible things. Things that were sanctioned because we were at war.”
His eyes flick open, and they’re troubled.
“I’m too broken, Willow, and too damaged. I saw the worst of humanity. I tried to be the best, but I saw the worst and I gave in to it. I made this darkness inside of me through the choices I made.”
My fingers reach the furrow of his brow, wanting to smooth away his darkness. I feel for this man, what he gave up for our country.
“It swallowed me whole. The person that I was has become too damaged. There's no good left inside of me."
I think of Pans saving me on his bike, gently tending to my wounds.
“That's not true. You saved me. You protected me, and you could have left me to die on the road.”
My hands travel down his throat, past his pulse, beating against my fingertips, down to his chest until I get to his solid heart. I press my palm to his chest.
"There's still good in here, Pans. I know there is.”
Because I believe it's true. There's kindness in this man. I’ve experienced it.
“Whatever the military made you, it’s not all of who you are.”
