Chapter 24
Cersi woke with a pounding headache and a mouth so dry it felt like she’d mopped the floors with her tongue. Peeking one eye open, she squinted at the shaded window and tried to gauge the hour. Apparently, it was too-bright thirty.
With a groan she rolled to her side, giving the window her back as she buried her head beneath a pillow and stretched her legs. God, she needed Starbucks, and cold pizza, and…and Tyson.
Rolling her eyes, she heaved a sigh and inwardly cursed herself for thinking of him. “Honestly,” she muttered aloud. “Can I have two fucking seconds of consciousness before obsessing over him?”
She tried to will herself back to sleep but knew it wasn’t happening. Already, her mind was reeling with memories of her Monster. God, he was a magnificent creature. The man, the beast, they were both equally beautiful and powerful. She remembered how when he’d taken her BlackLodge that first time, he knew something was wrong. They’d parked his truck down the mountain, and he’d practically dragged her up the mountainside. His eyes had been so damn intense. They’d changed color like they had that night they’d spent together. She now knew it was a sign that Monster was close to the surface.
Ffffffuck! Why did she have to think of that night? Instantly, her pussy was wet. Clamping her thighs tightly together, she fought to ignore the ache that throbbed in her clit at the memory of how he’d buried himself deep inside of her like he’d owned her. He had. At that moment when his big body was settled between her thighs, she’d felt so damn powerful. She shouldn’t have because he’d been on top and had been doing the penetrating, but there was no mistake who was in control. It had been her. She could have stopped him at any time, but she hadn’t. No, she’d wanted to see him lose control, and he had, and it was the most heady experience of her life. He’d lost himself in her body, and she had never felt more powerful, or beautiful, or wanted. It was the wanted that did her in. She’d never been wanted, not by anyone. Hell, even just remembering how desirable she’d felt in his arms had her chest aching and tears welling.
Pressing her wet eyes into the pillow, she jerked it off her head, tossed it on the bed with a sigh, and climbed off the mattress. Rummaging through her dresser drawer, she pulled out fresh clothes and made her way to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth before climbing into the shower. She let the water get good and hot before she pulled the hand shower off the mount and adjusted the setting to pulse before slamming a hand against the wall and panting hard as she relieved the ache between her thighs with her eyes pinched shut. Images of Tyson filled her head and her heart and when she finally came, her legs buckled and she slid down to settle on the shower floor, hand shower still blasting water as she pulled it to her chest and cried.
Fuck, I want him. I want him so damn bad.
She wanted Tyson with a ferocity that was unrivaled. Even all those years in foster hell, wishing her parents would come find her, was nothing compared to this. She wanted Tyson so damn bad that it was hard to breathe.
Choking back her sobs, she focused on simply breathing. Drawing in big gulps of air, she held them in before letting them out on slow exhales.
BlackLodge. She needed to go there. It felt like that’s where she belonged. She could go back and say it was to check on Vesa and to apologize to Tyson for how she’d left. She could feel him out, see if he was still interested. She could take that chance. She should take that chance! It was better than slowly dying here in the city of a broken heart.
But what if he decides he doesn’t want me like everyone else? Could I live through that?
No. No, she didn’t think she could survive Tyson throwing her away, but she didn’t think she could survive this either. It felt like part of her was dying, so why not just give him a try. Die now or die later? She turned her head and pressed her forehead up against the shower wall. You only die later if he ends up discarding you, there’s a chance… But she couldn’t even think about that possibility because hope had always been her downfall. All those years of hoping her parents would come for her when the never had. Then when she’d emancipated and stumbled her way into adulthood to become a bounty huntress, one of the first things she’d done was hunt her parents down. Even then, she’d held hope that there’d been a reason they’d given her up. She’d convinced herself that something awful had happened, something where they couldn’t keep her. She’d fooled herself into believing that they’d been searching for her the whole time. What she’d found out was that her mother had died of an overdose when Cersi was three. Her father, August Valle, was also a drug addict and a thief. He’d gone to prison when she was one. He stayed there until she was eleven. When he’d been released, he’d relapsed into drugs and had died shortly after in a robbery attempt. There had been no mistake. Her parents had abandoned her intentionally, and they’d never looked back. Still… She had to have the courage to give her and Tyson a chance.
Courage.
Yeah, that’s what she was lacking, and it was out of character because she’d spent her life making herself tough as iron. Running wasn’t like her and hiding was even worse.
Sucking back her tears, she shoved up off the floor and replaced the hand shower before twisting the water off. Dressing in record time, she had a small bag packed and tossed into the back of her jeep before she was on the road, headed back to BlackLodge…headed back to Tyson.
***
Tyson used his shoulder to force his way into Cersi’s apartment, but already knew what he’d find. Her little green jeep wasn’t parked out front, and he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from within. Inside, he found the place empty, and it twisted something awful in his gut. His first thought was that she’d run as far and as fast as she could, but scenting the place, he picked up on several things. Alcohol and anguish filled the space and the deeper he went into the apartment, the stronger it got. Her bedroom was dark. Her bed was a mess of sheets and pillows. Sitting, he picked up the nearest pillow and brought it to his nose. It smelled like alcohol and tears and woman. His woman. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough time since they’d been apart.
Snooping around her apartment, he found little evidence of where she’d gone. Dishes piled in the sink led him to believe she’d be back, so he dropped onto her couch and dropped his head into his hands. So much for his plan of kicking in her door and hauling her into his arms. Shaking his head with a deflated chuckle, he leaned back and pressed his shoulder into the cushions of the couch. He hated waiting. He wasn’t patient. Hell, he wasn’t even semi-patient, but for Cersi he’d wait. He’d wait until the rivers ran dry.
Fffffuck! He scanned the room again, looking for anything he’d missed, but nothing looked out of place. He hated this. Staring around her room he wondered how long he could keep Monster preoccupied before the fucker started ripping into him. In that instant, Monster ran his claws down Tyson’s insides forcing him to grunt against the pain. His goddamn beast needed distracting. Tyson knew he would. Wolves weren’t waiters. They were hunters. Action, action, action. That’s what Monster needed, but unwilling to leave without Cersi, Tyson stormed to her room and dug through her closet and under her bed until he found as much luggage as he could. Without hesitation, he started packing her shit. Luckily, it was enough to appease Monster. They weren’t leaving this place without Cersi and Monster liked that plan. Tyson liked it too.