Cold - Z.M (Book 1, Cold Trilogy)

Chapter 36 - Yay or Nay?

The lack of sleep I need is draining me.

I've laid here staring at the black ceiling for almost the whole night, reliving what happened during that fight. Zayn rests quietly beside me, clinging softly to my waist as if I was so close to breaking. Every move I make, he tightens his grip, restraining me from moving. Even when he's unconscious, he refuses to let me go like the stubborn guy he is.

I tilt my head up slowly to see if he's actually awake. The small morning light that seems to always peak through the drapes, brightens my dark room a little more; to where I can almost see his small, but sharp features; He's sleeping.

The cut on the bottom of his lip is small but looks irritating to manage when eating something tangy. His cheekbone looks pretty fucking sore and swollen. I can't see his eye though, it's too dark, but his ribs look really bad; horribly, bad. I glide my skin over it gently, softly, enough pressure for it to feel like a feather and I notice my hands slightly trembling.

I don't even want to imagine what Devon's body would look like. My finger having a mind of its own; skates over the purple, brown skin. I can't see it, but I know what it looks like. The image of his bruised skin is scarred in my head and he's got that because of me.

Without even noticing, he grabs my wrist and covers my mouth to suppress myself from gasping. His eyes are wide but then strangely, he alters.

"Shhhh." He slowly moves his hand away and I exhale anxiously.

What was that all about?

"I-"

"Sorry." He mutters.

"Are you okay?" I question warily.

He nod's once. "Just a dream."

I shrug it away; alerts still high with Zayns weird actions as my heart rate slows down.

From the view of his silhouette body, he runs his hand through his hair and sits up as if he can't remember how he got here; but in reality his face is completely impassive as he scans the room.

"I didn't mean to wake you." I apologise lamely.

"Have you slept?" Zayn questions, voice slightly hard.

"Not really."

"How long have you been awake?" He mutters over his shoulder, voice rich and husky; too attractive at this time of the morning.

"A couple of hours." I say bleakly.

He sighs quietly and almost sounds irritated. "You need sleep."He's angry?! Even after the sex? He's never angry after sex.

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the last two hours?" I mutter tiredly with annoyance left dangling in my sentence.

"What's the time?" He mutters in that tone that sneaks under my skin, still refusing to face me.

I shrug. "I don't know, early in the morning— 5 in the morning?"

"I have to go."

What.

"But it's like 5am?" I say, tone puzzled. Well I think it is.

"Don't." Zayn grumbles annoyed.

With one rough tug, he pulls the blankets off him, revealing bare, naked skin and is out of bed, putting his trousers on. I raise an eyebrow slowly. No underwear?

"So you're going? I say quietly.

"Yes."

"At 5am?" I say sardonically, voice morbid.