Page 60 of Equilibrium
The hand around my throat tightened, cutting off the air supply. I gasped for air, trying to breathe through my mouth, but it was to no avail. The grip only increased as I started hitting his thighs.
Storm stumbled forward, followed by Atlas, sporting a murderous look on his face, and the last time I saw him looking like this was back in that church, just before I stabbed Kieran.
“Let. Her. Go.” Storm enunciated every word. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Hunter or whatever his fucking name was, laughed, shaking both of us. “Are you going to tell her the truth?”
What truth? I looked at Storm then at a wincing Atlas, but the blank expressions told me nothing.
“You don’t wanna do this here, Hunter. Trust me. I know you’re pissed off. I understand that, but I will fucking skin you alive if I even see one bruise on her neck.”
Black spots danced on the periphery of my vision, and I was getting tired of this cockfight they’d been having. Behaving like children was no way to solve issues, and whatever it was that Storm hid from me, I was going to find out.
But not like this. Not when I was getting choked.
While Hunter was getting distracted by Storm, I inched myself to the side, leaving enough space to hit him where it truly hurts. I fisted my hand and swung back, connecting it with his groin. The grip on my throat immediately loosened, and as he started bending forward, I moved to the side and lifted my knee, connecting it with his chin.
“I didn’t ask you to choke me, asshole.” I rubbed at my neck. “And you,” I turned toward the shocked Storm, “start fucking walking to your room.”
“I-I don’t,” he stammered. “What?”
“Your room, Storm. Now!”
The rest of the bikers that were standing on the side, watching the real-life rendition ofGame of Thrones, started rushing out of the room, and under a minute it was only Storm, Felix, Atlas, Indigo, Hunter, and me standing in the room, surrounded by shattered furniture.
“Atlas,” I called out, with my eyes still on Storm. “Can you bring us the first aid kit?”
“Uh, sure.”
If I wanted to have children, I would either adopt some or have my own, but babysitting grown-ass men was not in any of my plans, and if this was how they behaved on a daily basis... No, I didn’t even want to think about it.
“And you.” I turned toward Hunter, who was still bent down, holding his junk. “The next time you call me a little girl, I am going to cut off your dick. Understood?”
“Mhm,” he mumbled.
I was too fucking tired for this shit. Moving myself toward the stairs, I turned toward Storm who was still gawking at me.
“Want me to carry you as well?”
There was blood all over his face and over his neck. The shirt he wore was ripped in multiple places, and his hair had seen better days. If this were a set for a horror movie, he would fit right in.
“I’m coming,” he grumbled, following me up the stairs.
What the fuck were they thinking?
Storm’s roomlooked like a bomb went off inside. His clothes were strewn all over the place, and I noticed that the shirt I wore the other day laid on the pillow next to his. I arched an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged and proceeded walking toward the bed.
Anger emanated from him, and I could feel where this conversation was going to go. He was going to admonish me for getting involved, and I’d probably end up smacking him again for saying it. But when the words never came, I realized that he might have gotten hurt more than I initially realized.
His nose stood at an unnatural angle, while the blood continued trickling from his eyebrow. His whole face was going to be black and purple by tomorrow. I should be happy about it, I really, really should, but I hated seeing him hurt. I hated the blood Hunter spilled, and I hated that Storm let him.
“Why did you let him hit you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. It’s been a long time since I felt this way, like my chest was going to burst open because he was hurt. Somebody I cared about was hurt. I itched to touch him, to remove the blood coating his face, to make sure that nothing was broken. I expected him to brush me off, to once again be an insufferable asshole, but none of it came.
“Storm?” I closed the distance between us, stopping right in front of him, next to the bed. Pale beige walls were a stark contrast to the darkness our world was painted with, and if I didn’t know better, I would’ve never guessed that this was his room. It was too bare, lifeless, and I wasn’t sure if it was only the place he slept at or if he actually called it home.
I entwined my fingers through the long strands on top of his head, feeling the blood coating them, feeling the sharp stab of pain through my whole body when he refused to look at me. I pushed his head back, needing to look at him properly, not even caring about the shitty attitude he was throwing my way the other day. This distance between us wasn’t as welcome as I thought at first.
I thought staying away from him was going to help me get my thoughts in order, but it didn’t. I knew I was running away from whatever this was between us, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to forget the way his hands felt on my skin, or the way my whole body came alive when he kissed me. It was wrong. It was something I didn’t want to have ever again, and yet, here I was, trying to care about the man I was supposed to be running away from.
