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Holding Knowledge
Lynx
In the motel, my ego was being poked. “Elle, I’ve got it handled.” I was slipping on my boxers, thankful I was finally allowed to shower. I hadn’t been in the bathroom for long, but it was enough for her to spiral…
Pacing, she insisted, “You don’t understand what a dangerous man he is.”
Further disrupting my ego, I informed her, “I’m worse.”
She rushed to me, throwing her arms around my waist. The sweaty hair on her forehead rubbed against my skin as she adamantly shook her head. “No. You are kind.”
My eyes closed in guilt. Elle was an angel who was falling in love with the Devil’s master. Here I was being egotistical while this sweet woman was trying to convince me, of all people, that I was a good person.
When she peered up at me, her panicked exhales brushed across my face. “Duke, he’s going to hate you for this.”
“Like I give a fuck?” I gently pushed her long blonde hair aside. Not even cheap motel shampoo and a man’s comb could dull its shine.
“Maybe if I go back to him—”
I tilted my head in warning. “Don’t you dare finish that shitty sentence.”
In despair, she let her chin clunk to my chest, eyes seeking mine so she could glare.
I found it adorable, tucking a wild, stray hair behind her ear. “Elle, how many times do I have to tell you—”
She begged, “M-Maybe then I can convince him to leave you alone.”
Her willingness to go back to him—and all that torture—only to spare me any harm had me growling, “Say it.” I didn’t feel worthy of such a sacrifice. I needed her to understand that I wasn’t worthy, and that she needed to start loving herself.
“No,” she grumbled, her damp forehead against my chest again.
My arms tightened around her. “Tell me you’re worth this fight.”
“No,” she whispered, trying to hide that she was crying again.
I kissed her hair. “You. Are. Worth. It.”
The scars on her back were proof of the years of violence, but the damage done to her heart and spirit could only be seen during sad moments like these.
Guiding her to the bed, I lifted the blanket and pointed. “In. Time for sleep.”
I was no longer on painkillers, didn’t need them. Only antibiotics.
She crawled in but insisted, “Duke—”
“Sleep.”
“Lynx—”
“Sleep.”
She growled, “VP.”
Grinning, loving her gumption, I turned off the lamp. “Sleep.”
Laying down, she sneered, “Fine. I was going to ask for a kiss, but forget it—”
Even though it put a strain on my stitches, I pounced. My starving lips violently crashed to hers.
