The next few days were pretty normal, as normal as it could be within the presence of Max and Spike anyway. He treated her gently, he even rubbed the medicated lotion across her back, and now the tattoo felt like nothing at all. The sharp pain had receded, and the redness, which left behind glorious feathers across her shoulder blades, patterning down to her lower back. She absolutely adored them, and so did he, a little too much. He got a little handsy a few times, and in the presence of the others no less. She had to smack his hand away, like a child's punishment for reaching into the cookie jar. Spike continued to gag and choke like he was about to vomit watching them, to her amusement, leaning against his shoulder as she drew in her sketchbook. The flowers were vibrant, with strong-standing stems and wide, unwrinkled petals. But, they always had thorns across them. Every time she glanced at Max from the corner of her eye, felt his arms around her, his skin pressed delicately against her own, she was falling further to getting pricked. When she did, she knew it would hurt like a bitch.
They had gotten along better, they were closer, but just because of that didn't mean it would last. This wasn't a fairy tale, things didn't get magically fixed in the time it took to snap of one's fingers. They argued sometimes, and she told him colorfully to get lost, especially about the alcohol. He knew that she didn't favor his drinking habits, but he still did it right in front of her, and it didn't look like he was even attempting to take more control over it either. It had only been a few days, addictions didn't get fixed in a few days, she knew that clearly. But, every time she watched him, the pain in her chest intensified just a little bit more. He looked happy when he was drunk, but she knew better. Maybe because they were on the road, spending every minute of every day in the presence of one another, her frustration was amplified. But, this was all so fresh, so new, she hardly had the right to say anything about what he did or how he lived his life. Besides, she had told him that she hadn't been there to try and change him, and he had specifically said he never would change for her.
She jumped up when she saw the signs for New York, letting out a breathe of relief. Too long she had been trapped in this confinement. The second the RV pulled up to the back alley of the HH Manhattan building, she grabbed her bag and her dog, hurrying the hell out the steps and down, taking in lungs of smog-filled city air. Home. It didn't seem like that would be a pleasant smell, but for some reason it was. Max got out behind her, with his bag and one of hers, which held the box of cocaine. She hugged the girls, saying goodbye to Lanky Guy. She'd never see them again, she knew that, and her time with them had been so fun and wonderful, she almost cried at the thought. Spike just gave her the finger, and she gave it right back, sticking her tongue out at him just because she knew it would annoy him. They went through the exit door, down that eerie set of stairs, and back into the underground parking facility, just the way they had come.
He pressed the button for the elevator, and held the door open for her to get into the lift, watching as it shut behind them. She placed Zuni gently on the ground next to her, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes were strained ahead, at the muddled reflections of them both within the metal doors. The moment suddenly felt a little stifling, a slight hint of anxiety. What now?
It was probably best to break the ice, the sudden envelope of tension. They had changed their surroundings, and as a result, their relationship had changed. But, now they were back in their original world...
"What's for dinner?" she tried, not looking at him, as he didn't look at her, their bags sitting between them.
"We'll have to cook for ourselves-" he responded simply "I gave Lancy the night off" Lancy? The night off?! The thought hit her full force, sending a wave of something through her body. She couldn't quite explain the feeling, but it wasn't fear, the closest she could think of was a mix of anxiety and excitement. No Lancy, that means...
YOU ARE READING
His Angel
Romance"You have a name, don't you?" his voice was deep and irritable, but rather calm. Her eyes lifted just slightly, now staring at the edges of dark hair that hung an inch or two from his shoulders. Her lack of answer seemed to annoy him further, she co...
