Chapter 4
Whiskey Breath and betrayal
The cold room is iced with a new frost when I wake up to the empty bed. Brazen still isn’t back.
I start to sit up, but I gasp when I see the pale eyes almost glowing in the dark with their night vision.
“Brazen?” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he snaps, and I hear the sloshing of the strong liquor I can smell rather than see in the pitch black air.
“Why are you sitting over there? Come to bed,” I murmur warily.
He doesn’t usually drink enough for me to smell it on his breath, and I can smell it dousing the room with its heavy toxic warning.
“I think I’ll pass,” he says very coldly.
I creep up a little better, and he stands to stagger across the room. I can hear him bumping into shit, and it’s not because he can’t see. He’s fucking wasted, fury radiating from his body.
“Brazen, you’re scaring me,” I almost whisper.
“Am I?” he asks with an ominous tone. “I’m sorry, Araya. It’s not like I can fucking hurt you or anything.” He stops to turn his eyes into mine, the glowing wrath scaring me all the more. “You have the big bad exploding gift, and the fact is, you’re more than capable of destroying me in every way fucking possible!” he blares.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” I murmur with a skittish tone.
“Really?” he chuckles out, and the lights almost blinds me as he flips them on. “I get back, and I’m worried to fucking death about you because I’ve been calling nonstop. No one could get through to the fucking compound because Hale wasn’t answering either. We finally got a hold of Wendy, and she couldn’t find you. Hale was busy, so she didn’t want to bother him. He was banging some girl because we could hear the vicious, wild, and savagely carnal sounds over the phone through the fucking door. I should have known something very obviously telling when Clay’s face went white beside me, but I thought there was no fucking way it was you,” he eerily releases, and I swallow hard when I realize what’s playing out right now.
“I’m thinking you’re hurt, or you’re tending to someone hurt. I’m thinking you’re devastated over your home being blown to pieces and you’re hiding out to find solace in solitude. Then I get here, and you’re in the bed asleep. I sigh out in relief to know that girl wasn’t you. My girl is in bed with tears staining her face, but then I smell him. He’s all over you. Then I see the man’s shirt you’re wearing, and it sure the hell isn’t mine,” he blares louder.
“So, Araya, as you can see, I’m pretty fucking pissed to know I just heard my fiancée fucking her ex while I’m trying to get here to comfort her and make sure she’s safe,” he screams, and then the whiskey bottle shatters against the wall when he throws it beside my head.
Holy… fucking… shit.
“Brazen, please calm down. Let me explain before you do anything rash. I-”
“Rash?” he screams out in interruption. “Don’t do anything rash she says,” he chuckles out. “No, baby. I’m not doing anything rash at all. I realized tonight that I spent two years making love to a woman who just wanted to be fucked. You’re no different than the rest of your fucking kind,” he says in disgust, and the fuse that hasn’t been lit in a really long time suddenly bursts into flames.
My head tilts to the side as I stare at him like a lioness views her prey just before she goes for the throat. The small, thin thread that keeps my dark secret at bay has just snapped under his words.
“My kind?” I ask with a chilling tone, and the walls rattle lightly to emphasize my fury for his cutting, belligerent words.
His eyes begin to sober as fear pops into them, and he takes a step back when he realizes the dangerous zone he’s in.
“I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to do this like this,” he babbles out.
“Of course you didn’t. Not now. You think my kind is savage, don’t you?” I rumble out, and the thunderous promise of the walls crumbling threatens him all the more.
“No. I’m not scared of you, baby. Calm down. Talk to me,” he murmurs softly, and now I feel like a rabid animal caught in a cage that he’s trying to coax out.
It’s enough to bring back some of my sanity to break free from the dangerous trance, and I stagger backwards gasping for air.
“Stay away from me,” I warn in my own, terrified voice.
“No. Talk to me. Why did you go back to him?” he pleads. “Did you fuck him because of the thrill you got from the fight, or did you just do it to get out of marrying me?” he cries out.
My hand throws up, and he’s suddenly flying across the room. I can’t let him provoke me any further or I could kill him. I dash out of the room when I see him stumbling in his inebriated state to get back up, and I force my way through Wendy’s door.
“Ms. Crush,” she gasps while grabbing her heart that I’ve just forced to pound a little harder with my startling entry.
