Stalk Her by Snow Jenika

Author:Snow, Jenika
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jenika Snow
Published: 2019-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Poppy

It was the pain that woke me up, a burning, heart-racing-induced agony that had consciousness slowly filling me. I didn’t open my eyes, but I could tell there was a light on, its orangey glow casting shadows behind my closed lids. I took stock of where I was, what I was feeling. Aside from the pain, I was on a bed, softness and warmth surrounding me. I could smell something masculine, cologne maybe. It enveloped me, calmed me.

I could feel the tips of my hair brushing along my collarbones, the ends having dried already, tickling my flesh. The memory of why they were wet swam through my head like a broken record, bits being plucked out one by one.

I opened my eyes then, blinking a few times past the harsh light. I realized it wasn’t bright at all but this dim glow coming from the corner. But it felt like the sun was in the room, and all that did was make the pain in my head intensify. I lifted my hand, groaning as I did it, and touched the side of my temple, right by my hairline. I felt something hard, dried blood maybe, right below the softness of what I assumed was a bandage.

“Easy there.” The voice was deep and close, and I turned my head to the side slowly to see Butcher sitting in a chair in the corner by the light, his big body seeming to dwarf everything.

For a moment, I was reminded of Alice in Wonderland, when she ate the little muffin and grew and grew and grew. Was I losing my mind to be thinking of something so strange at a time like this? I tried to push myself up but groaned at how sore I was. I thought about flailing around in the tub, my body banging against the porcelain. Made sense that I felt like I’d gotten run over by a cement truck.

“Easy there, Poppy,” he repeated.

I sat up and moved back, resting against the headboard as I looked at him, the concern in his voice sincere. He was standing now, his hand shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the leather motorcycle club vest he wore having patches and embroidery on it, his MC and his title stitched into the upper corner.

Devil’s Right Hand MC

President.

My heart was racing as I remembered everything that happened. “How long was I out?”

He took a step toward me but then stopped, as if he changed his mind. “Just a couple hours.”

My mouth was so dry it felt like I’d been chewing on cotton. As if he read my mind, he walked over to me and picked up a water bottle I hadn’t noticed that sat on the bedside table. He popped the cap and handed it to me, and I greedily sucked it down as soon as the edge of the top touched my lips.

I could feel him watching me, but I didn’t make eye contact. I was confused and angry and hurt, not just physically but emotionally as well.

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