Page 35 of Dark Surrender

On a groan, I lick my dry lips, and when I go to wipe my eyes, the cuffs are gone.

A puff of warm air hits my shoulder as a body squirms next to mine.

Slowly rolling my head to the side, I find the most beautiful creature asleep next to me, on her side, full tits pressed against the outside of my arm, a hand on my thigh.

Christ.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be.

My ankles move freely, and there’s a blanket covering my calves. I wiggle my toes. Those still work too. The drumming in my head follows the strong, thump, thump, thump of my heart. Sure, I hurt… everywhere, but… I’m alive… and…

Iris is next to me?

Running my palm down my stomach, I gently brush the top of what must be a Dr. Frankenstein mess of patchwork.

Damn.

That sister of hers sliced me up good, yet didn’t finish the job.

The last thing I remember is Iris crying, asking me who to call. I never wanted to stop looking into those soulful, mismatched eyes. Even as her sister ripped me to shreds, I couldn’t look away for more than a moment. The sorrow of someone caring enough to cry for me, to actually care. Fuck.

Now that she’s sleeping beside me, her delicate fingers on my skin, emotions clog my throat. She didn’t let me die. She stopped it. She’s here.

“Dark?” she whispers in a sexy, groggy morning voice.

Not knowing I’m awake, Iris presses her finger into the V at my hip, clearly checking for my pulse, and when she finds it, the sweetest sigh escapes her.

“Not dead.” She mutters so low that if I wasn’t next to her, I wouldn’t hear it.

I crack a tired grin. “Nope. Not dead.”

Iris startles and jerks away as if I’m diseased. Covering her exposed breasts with an arm, she makes it halfway across the room on her bottom before she stops.

I reach out my hand to her. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I… I…” Tears fill her eyes, and her bottom lip wobbles.

“Say it with me, beautiful,” I rasp, my voice sandpaper. “Dark’s not gonna hurt me.”

“I…I’m so sorry.” Iris’s face crumples, and unable to hold it in any longer, she breaks. Sobs rip from her soul as she stares at me, trembling.

“Sweetheart, no. Don’t. Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hating to see her this way. My heart can’t take it. “Don’t waste those tears on me. Iris. Please. Just come ‘ere.” Lying my hand on the floor, unable to hold it up, I crook a finger at her.

She doesn’t budge.

With what little energy I have left, I slap the concrete. “Iris. Come ‘ere,” I order, aching inside. From her. Those horrible sounds.

Christ.

With red-rimmed eyes, snot running down her face, and hiccuping cries stealing her breath, the beautiful woman crawls closer. Needing to touch her, I offer her my hand, and she holds it tight. I smile at her, at least I think it’s a smile. More like a half-grimace, but I am in agony here. I think that grants me a pass, don’t you?

“I’m alive because of you.”

“You almost died because of me,” she blubbers.

“Yeah. Maybe a little, but I ain’t mad.”