In Death I Live by Lindsay Becs

RIVER

“What the fuck?”Dom murmurs from the driver’s seat of his SUV.

Looking up from my phone, I squint to make out what’s got him worked up. It’s hard to see anything with how heavy the rain is falling, pounding down against the metal of the vehicle as thunder rattles the air.

“What is that?” I ask, still trying to make out what’s ahead of us. It’s a blurred object. He slows down more than he already has with the fierce rain falling, and as we inch closer, I can tell it’s a person walking along the road. “Why the fuck is someone walking that close to the road at night in this weather?”

“I don’t know,” he muses. The closer we get, the smaller the figure seems rather than larger. The closer we get, I can tell it’s a girl walking. She’s barely covered in only a T-shirt. No pants. No shoes.

“Pull over,” I tell him, and as soon as he slows enough, I jump out to run to the girl. “Hey!” I call out, but she just keeps stumbling ahead, not looking back, like she can’t hear me. Maybe she can’t through the loud storm roaring around us. “Hey! Are you okay?” I try again but nothing.

I swallow down everything inside telling me to leave her alone as I get closer to her. With each step I take toward her, the more I see. Blood dripping down her legs. And even though her shirt is soaked, I can tell it’s stained red.

Tentatively, I reach out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you alright?” I ask again.

She stops, and I nearly walk into her. Slowly, her head turns to look back at me. To where my hand is touching her. She looks lost. Frozen. Unaware and zoned the fuck out. It’s eerie seeing someone with a dead look like that in their eyes. Her face looks like she was beaten to a pulp with a swollen cheek, busted lip and black eye that’s almost completely shut. Her teeth chatter from the cold of the rain, and I wonder where she came from and what the hell happened to her.

But then I think that I can’t care. It’s not my business, and I should turn around and get back into the car with Dominic.

Except I can’t.

There’s something in her dead eyes that is pulling me in, and I feel a need to protect her. Because she isn’t dead. She’s fighting to live.

“Here,” I say, shrugging out of my leather jacket. Placing it around her shoulders, I pull it closed tight at her front, wanting to warm her up. She still just stares at me, and I know I can’t walk away and leave her here like this. “Come on,” I tell her, tugging her with me toward the car.

After I pick her up to put her in the back and buckle her up—her not helping with any of it—I climb back into the passenger seat.

“You’re fucked,” Dom chuckles darkly, putting the car in drive.

“Just drive,” I grumble, sinking down to feel more of the warmth from the heated seat against my cold, wet body.

I watch the girl the whole drive back to the compound in the side mirror. That same dead look in her eyes never waivers as she stares straight ahead. Her long, wet hair clings to her face. My fingers twitch to reach back and pull it away so I can look at her more. Even with the heat turned up inside the car and her wrapped in my jacket, she’s still shivering. Tilting my head to the side as I watch her, I think about that; maybe it’s not from the cold at all but from fear or shock from what’s happened to her.

I’m pulled from my obsessive staring when Dom pulls up to the gate. Rolling down his window, he puts his hand on the scanner. After a few seconds, the iron doors open, letting us drive through.

“How the fuck are you going to explain…” he asks with a lift of his chin, talking about the girl in the backseat.

Running a hand down my face, I shake my head. “No fucking clue.”

“You have a death wish tonight, that’s for fucking sure,” he says as he parks inside the massive underground garage and gets out of the car.

I wait until I see his retreating back turn for the stairwell that leads up to the main part of the compound before I move to get out. Pushing open my door, I get to my feet, then close it, my hand lingering a moment before reaching for the one behind it.

I try to get her attention to move and get out, but she stays frozen. “Hey. You gotta get out,” I tell her. Still nothing. If it wasn’t for her occasional blink, I’d think she was dead with how still she is.

Letting out a frustrated breath, I reach in to pull her out, irritated more with myself for bringing her here than with her. This has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I’ve done a lot of stupid shit.

Sliding my arms under her, I pull her out, then bump the door shut with my foot. Smirking at the footprint left on the side of the black exterior, I know Dom will be pissed and that makes me a little happier.

As I walk to the stairs, I freeze when she leans her head on my shoulder. Her hot breath from her shallow exhales makes goosebumps rise on my skin. Gritting my jaw, I continue up to take her straight to my wing, hoping no one notices or bothers me until morning when I can hopefully learn more about her.

When I reach my bedroom, I sit her down on the bed before walking back to close and lock my door behind us, leaving me alone with this mysterious girl who I know nothing about and yet feel responsible for and protective over.

Turning back around, I stop to look at her—really look at her—in the soft glow from the only source of light in the large room, a couple of wall sconces on either side of my king-size bed.

Crouching down in front of her, I’m careful not to touch her. Again.

“Do you have a name?” I ask softly.

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes move for the first time, landing on mine. Tears fill her dark blue eyes, or at least what I can see of them through the swelling and bruising. I want to take away all the pain that’s caused those tears.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe here.” I try to reassure her, but I see her jaw clench as she blinks and those tears spill down her sad, beat-up face. “Look, I don’t know what’s happened to you, and I’m not going to push. At least not yet.” Her eyes open again at my warning. A grin pulls at my lips. “I’m River. This is my room, and the door is locked. No one can get to you here. You understand? No one is going to hurt you in here.” She stares at me, and then after a few moments, nods slightly in understanding.

I notice she’s still shaking and I still don’t know if it’s because she’s cold or not, but I do know she needs to warm up and get into dry, clean clothes. I point to the open door to the left of us. “That’s my bathroom in there. What do you say to taking a hot bath or shower to warm up?”

“Bath,” she croaks out, her voice sounding hoarse.

I nod. “You got it.” Standing, I go to my en suite and start a hot bath for her. I put some Epson salts in the water to help soothe whatever sore muscles she probably has. After I make sure there’s soap, shampoo and a sponge for her, I pull down a clean towel and set it next to the filled tub.

When I come back into the room, she hasn’t moved. I half expected her to have tried to bolt, but I think she’s still in some form of shock. “It’s all set. I’ll get some clothes for you to change into,” I tell her, walking to my dresser. Pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I turn back to put them inside the bathroom, but she still hasn’t moved. I swallow before asking, “Do you need help?”

She takes in a deep stuttered breath, and I wish she’d say something. Give me something, anything to go on. Then she glances up at me with a look that seems like a cross between fear and pleading for help all at once.

Setting the clothes on the bed, I take her hand in mine. Her fingers are freezing as I wrap my hand around hers. Guiding her into the bathroom, I wait for her cues for what she’s comfortable with. I don’t want to push anything on her right now.

She stands in front of the filled tub and stares down at the steaming water for a second before she steps inside, not removing what little clothing she has on. A hiss leaves her busted lip as the water reaches different parts of her broken body.

I itch to help her, to remove the soiled and stained shirt that shouldn’t be touching her. But I stay frozen as I watch her sink down. When she is fully seated, she brings her knees up, her cheek that isn’t bruised resting on them as her eyes close.

I turn to go, to leave her to bath alone, but then I hear her quiet voice. “Please don’t go.” Turning back to look at her, I dip my head and instead lean back against the closed door. Pulling out my cell, I try to give her privacy without leaving her alone.

Dom: Where’s the girl?

Me: Bath

Dom: You’re a fucking idiot. What if she was raped? You just let her wash all that shit away.

Me: I wanted to get her warmed up. I didn’t even think about that.

I let out a frustrated breath.I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been tonight. I should have known better than to let her bathe before Doc came to see her. But part of me wants to keep her all to myself.

Dom: Stop thinking with your dick and be smart.

Dom: You’re going to be in enough shit when he finds out. Don’t add to it.

Me: I need to go.

Dom: Sure you do.

I can hearhis sarcasm and condescension from here.

Needing some answers—even though I told her I wouldn’t push—I look up at her and ask, “Did someone hurt you?”

She snorts like I’m stupid for asking the question, the obvious answer written all over her beaten body.

“I don’t mean just hitting you. I mean…” I pause, running a hand down my face, not wanting to say the words. “Were you—”

“No,” she says before I can say the word.

Relief washes over me, but then I look at her again. Whoever it was might not have raped her, but they sure didn’t hesitate when they beat the shit out of her.

She moves, trying to take her shirt off but winces, and I wonder if she’s got broken ribs. “Can I help you?” I ask slowly, not moving from my spot until she gives me permission.

Slowly, she nods her head, and even more slowly, I walk to the side of the tub, kneeling next to her. I don’t take my eyes off of hers as my hands dip into the water and my fingers carefully reach the hem of the shirt. Careful not to hurt her more, I slide it up as gently as possible.

She lifts her arms to help and keep it from touching her face. When it’s off, I toss it into the shower. Looking back at her, I see her wiggling to rid herself of her underwear, wincing more from the movement. Yeah, she definitely has at least one broken rib. I help her slide them down her legs and toss them in with her shirt.

Turning back to her, my eyes roam over her body, looking for bruising on her sides. They’re everywhere. She’s covered in bruises and welts, both old and new. Her legs don’t have as many as her stomach and sides. Her wrists have marks around them where it’s obvious she was tied up or bound. Her upper arms are dotted with bruises like a smattering of fingerprints. Her neck too.

Landing on her face again, I see her watching me as I take inventory of her injuries. Then she sinks back, submerging herself underwater. Her arms go above her head to her hair, and I take that moment to look at other places of her body. Because, you know, I’m an asshole.

Her breasts are full and round with pert little nipples that would be perfect for biting. Tilting my head to the side, I look down between her slightly open legs. Her shaved pussy proves that she takes care of herself. Or did. And the fact that there isn’t bruising there or on her breasts makes me think she was telling the truth about not being raped.

My eyes travel back up her body. She’s small, her hipbones sticking out some, but with a few good meals, she’d have killer curves with the hips she has. Her flat stomach looks soft, and I like that she isn’t tight with muscles.

When she sits back up, she hisses out in pain once more, and I feel guilty that I was eye-fucking her instead of helping her. For a second. Until I see water cascade down her face, over her full lips that even bruised look fuckable.

“Do you still need help?” I ask, clearing my throat and trying to get out of my fog of fantasies.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “But can you still stay in here? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sure,” I answer, pushing back on my ass and sliding back against the wall, trying to discretely adjust my hardening cock.

She washes and bathes, and I try not to want to fuck her beautifully beaten face while messing around on my phone, looking up only when I hear the water slosh. She’s standing up and bending for the towel, holding her ribs as she does and giving me an eyeful of her heart-shaped ass. Looking to the ceiling, I let out a breath. This has to be punishment for bringing her here.

After I help her get out and get dressed, I ask if she’s hungry. She tells me no. I ask if she wants anything at all, and she again tells me no.

“I’ll sleep out in my lounge. You can stay in here to sleep in the bed,” I tell her.

“What? No. Please don’t leave me in here alone. Please stay with me,” she pleads, looking panicked and grabbing at my arm.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay, I’ll stay. I can sleep on the”—I swallow down my disgust for my next word—“floor.”

Shaking her head, she says, “No. It’s ok. I trust you.”

“Angel…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I see her lips twitch at the name I gave her.

“If you were going to hurt me, you would have done it by now. I trust you, River,” she says softly, looking up at me shyly. And fuck, if her looking all innocent like that, in my clothes, and saying my name doesn’t get me hard.

Needing to show her that I’m not the good-savior kind of guy, I take her hand in mine, sliding it down to the front of my pants and pressing it against my hard cock. Tilting my head, I look at her with a smirk and ask, “You sure about that?” She fucking licks her lips, and I swear her eyes—or eye—hood like she’s turned on right now. “Come on,” I say, walking to pull down the covers for her to slide under. Once she’s in my bed, I pull my hoodie off and step out of my pants, climbing into bed next to her. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” she rasps.

I put on some Netflix show and turn out the lights. In minutes, I hear her breathing even out and know she’s asleep. Turning off the TV, I close my eyes to put the day behind me. Before I’m asleep, I feel her shift in the bed, turning onto her side. Against my better judgment, I pull her into me more, placing her head on my chest and holding her as I fall asleep.