Ink & Dagger (Sins of Eden #1)

17. Chapter XVII

Chapter XVII

Emily

I shook my head in disbelief and laughed under my breath as I looked around my room.

Charlie had already put all of my things away for me and had left the Demon’s leather jacket on the end of my bed. Walking over to it, I ran my fingers against the material before picking it up and raising it to my nose.

It still smelled like him.

I set the jacket down and slowly undressed, taking care not to move too much as I pushed my yoga pants and thong down. Hissing out a sharp breath as I pulled my shirt over my head, I tossed it into the hamper and checked my phone while I walked into the bathroom.

I threw on my playlist before turning on the shower and letting the water warm up. Halsey’s soulful voice echoed around the bathroom as “Nightmare” began playing through the shower speakers.

I wasn’t anyone’s sweet dream and this song made me want to go out and paint the town crimson red. Something about her music always spoke to my soul, no matter the song. My taste in music was extremely eclectic, but her music never failed to make me feel better.

Scrubbing at my arms, I worked to get the feel of Erik’s hands off my body and gently washed my face and stomach, careful not to disrupt the bandages I still wore to cover my mostly healed wounds. Every inch of my body still ached from the assault, I could heal from a lot, but my ribs still smarted from where he’d broken them. Again.

The words “died” and “angel watching over her” rang through my head as I carefully scrubbed my scalp with my honeysuckle shampoo. It was still tender from where he’d bashed my head against the wall and ripped clumps of hair out as he dragged me across the floor of my shop.

That fucker was going to pay.

I’d cursed a few people here and there over the years, but if anyone deserved karma and pain, it was Erik Deadman Jones. Why I’d ever spent three years with that waste of breath piece of shit, I never knew, but Agatha had absolutely adored the ground he walked on up until the day he first put me in the hospital.

Everything had been great in the beginning. He’d been a breath of fresh air compared to the losers I’d dated in the past. We did everything together, but slowly I found myself changing for him.

I began wearing less concert tees and torn jeans and started going out in evening dresses and heels to galas and fancy fundraising events. The ones where the males made shady stock market deals and grabbed the asses of busty cocktail servers, meanwhile the pack Luna’s dressed in designer gowns and flaunted their extravagant wedding rings.

Things took a turn about a year in, shortly after he’d gotten an engagement ring on my own finger. He started drinking more and staying out later to protect his territory . When he was home he’d go into fits of rage, calling me a whore and flying off the handle about attention I’d received from his pack members, even if it was just a stray glance in my direction.

He was convinced that I was having an affair with his Beta and would push me around, blaming me for dressing too provocatively, and not bearing him a litter.

It wasn’t until finding out that he had a whole other life with some nineteen year old primadonna Omega from another pack that I stood in front of my mirror, realizing that I didn’t know who the Hell I was anymore. That was when I finally worked up the courage to confront him on all the dirty texts and receipts I’d found documenting their time together.

To say he was irate was an understatement. I’d never seen him come so unhinged as he did that night and if it weren’t for Charlie, I don’t think I ever would have gotten out of that alive. If I did have an Angel looking out for me, it was her.

After rinsing off, I turned off the water and pulled the towel down from the shower curtain rod to wrap it around my body. This was the first time that I’d actually stopped to look in the mirror since waking up in the hospital.

I felt like I’d played chicken with a semi-truck and lost, but overall my injuries didn’t look nearly as bad as they felt. A few scratches and bruises, sure, but besides my ribs, it could have been a lot worse. I poked gently at the dark finger marks on my upper arm and winced. Some good rest is what I needed.

Grabbing a second towel from the hook on the wall, I began drying my hair as I walked into my bedroom, softly squeezing the ends to wring the water from my soaked locks and screamed bloody murder once I looked up and realized that I wasn’t alone.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, holding his leather jacket, was 210 lbs. of pure muscle and rage.