I smile, stroking Rixon's bare chest. He's snoring softly, his arms wrapped around me in a protective embrace.
After we'd erased Vee's memory and wrapped up her wound, we'd dropped her off in her bedroom and retreated to Rixon's 'old' house.
And now all I did was enjoy his company. I wanted to do nothing but stay in bed. Stay in bed and keep fit, if you know what I mean.
I lay silently for I don't know how long, but finally Rixon made his groaning sound that he always does when he's waking up. Smiling, I straddled him, biting my lower lip.
His hands move to my hips, and his lazy, cheeky, half smile made its appearance. "Babe," he groaned, his voice dripping with his thick, sexy, Irish accent. "Give a man a break."
I wrapped the bed sheets around my upper body, covering all of it as well as his lower half. "This is the first time I've heard you complaining," I teased, doing a slight circle with my hips. Rixon groaned, sitting up slightly, supporting himself by his elbows. He licked his lips, his eyes hungry.
"I've just come out of Hell, love. It tears on a man's ability to please."
I giggled, "Your age is getting to you."
He faked a shocked expression, before pulling me down to him. "With age comes experience," he whispered seductively, kissing the skin just below my earlobe.
"You've only had experience with me," I reminded him, giggling uncontrollably as he trailed kisses down my neck to my shoulders.
"Precisely," he breathed, and in a heartbeat he was on top of me, his weight pushing me into the mattress. "And I know everything there is to know about you," he added, continuing to trail kisses down my stomach.
I sighed, leaning against the wall.
"What am I doing here?" I asked, watching my brother flipping through a bunch of papers. Patch gave me a look I hadn't seen since the day he told me he'd sent Rixon to Hell. I frowned, "what's wrong?"
Patch sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose.
"There are rumours going around," he started, and I immediately knew what he was talking about.
"Rixon," I said, making his job a lot easier. Patch looked at me expressionless, and I rubbed my forehead. I'd told him to be careful, but clearly he hadn't followed my advice.
"You believe the rumours?" I asked.
"Your expression was all I needed," he answered, leaning back on his sofa. "What do you mean?" I asked, pushing out from the wall and walking over to him.
"Alaïs, what have you done?"
He took my hands, making me sit down on the floor in front of the sofa, my back to him.
I kept quiet, not really sure if he actually knew I'd brought Rixon back, or if he had come to another conclusion. However, I knew Patch like no one else - and he was never wrong.
"I don't know how you brought Rixon back, but I think you–"
"What?" I snapped. "You think what?" I got up, my anger boiling. "You know, you might be my big brother, but that does not give you the right to judge my life - or my choices. I did what I had to do!"
"You should have left him there."
"How could I?" I cried, tears threatening to spill over.
"I love him! I love him, Patch – love him! What would you do if Nora was chained up in Hell, and you knew of a way to get her back? You would do everything you could to succeed."
Patch's grim expression told me he would do exactly what I had done, and so I threw my arms in the air. "See? You're no better than me. You're my brother, you know me better than anyone. We're so alike, we would do the exact same thing if we were in each other's shoes. I just need you to trust me on this."
"I don't know that I can," Patch whispered, and I felt a pang of betrayal. "He betrayed me by trying to kill my girlfriend."
"And you betrayed me by burning his feather!" I shrieked, drawing an emotion you rarely saw from Patch: real and utter shock.
I bit my lip to prevent from apologising. He didn't deserve an apology this time. For once I'd told him how I felt, and I wasn't backing down.
I gave him a long, hard look before I turned around and left.
I felt torn - I couldn't go back to Rixon. Not like this, not after a fight with Patch about him.
And for the second time in a month, I found myself standing in front of Scott Parnell's door.
I didn't even know I'd knocked when Scott opened, looking groggy. His brown hair stood out in weird angles, and he was only wearing dark green PJ trousers - leaving his chest bare.
"Alaïs?" He looked genuinely surprised to see me, and he massaged the left side of his face.
Then he must have noticed my red and puffy eyes, because he hurried me inside. "What's wrong?" he immediately asked, drying the damp pools on my cheeks with his thumbs.
"I don't know what to do," I sobbed, covering my face with my hands. I honestly didn't know what to do, and it was killing me. I usually sat on all the answers, and handed them out whenever I felt like it. But for the last month I'd felt helpless. Everything felt unpredictable, and I hated it. And things weren't going the way I'd thought with Rixon either. He was never around, and when he was he wasn't the least bit interested in me. He'd once told me he was planning something, but refused to let me in on what. I was positive it had something to do with Nora or Patch – or both – and that I should've told Patch, but I couldn't bring myself to accept that he might've been right. That maybe I should have left Rixon in Hell, no matter how much I loved him.
The worst day had been when I wouldn't back down. I was persistent on knowing what Rixon was up to, and he'd eventually hit me.
I had a black bruise on the left side of my face, but I was good enough with make up to cover it up.
My crying however cleaned the make up off my face, making the bruise visible for Scott to see.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, clearly shocked as he grabbed my chin to examine the left side of my face.
"Who did this?"
"It's not important–"
"Not important?" he bellowed, giving me a hard glance. "Someone hit you hard enough to turn half of our face match your clothes. That's very important."
I just burrowed my face in his naked chest, clinging to him for support. He held my tight, murmuring words of comfort.
I'm not sure how long we stood like that, but when I couldn't produce more tears I pulled away.
"I'm sorry for bringing this on you. I keep coming to you with my problems, burdening you. I'm sure you've got enough on your own plate," I mumbled, drying my face.
"I don't mind," said Scot gently, wiping the tears I'd missed. "Now tell me who gave you that bruise so I can give him a similar one."
I just stared at him, and his tense jaw loosened. I didn't need words to tell him who did it.
"Oh, Alaïs," he sighed.
"He didn't mean it," I said, coming to Rixon's aid immediately. "I pushed him. It as my fault."
Scott looked sadder than I'd ever seen him. "Nothing gives a man the right to hit his girlfriend. Come here," he took my hand, taking me to the kitchen where he lifted me up on the counter. He dove into the freezer, emerging with a bag of frozen peas, which he wrapped in a washing cloth and placed on the left side of my face.
I didn't feel the cold, but I sort of wished I did. It would make the gesture even better.
"You keep taking care of me when I'm a mess," I said, smiling slightly.
"I'd rather not make a habit of it," he answered, looking into my eyes so intently I had to look down at my hands. I was always fiddling with my hands in his presence, always feeling nervous for not saying the right thing.
"Last time we were here, you tried to convince me to sleep with you," I giggled, stealing a glance at his grinning face. "You've changed your mind?" he joked, removing the ice pack to feel my face, before putting it back.
I just smiled. Being around Scott was actually quite easy. He could always play a joke, but when he committed to something he let nothing come in his way.
I reached for Scott's free hand, lacing my fingers with his. "Thank you for being my rock," I whispered, this time meeting his eyes without any intention of looking away.
His smile was so genuine my heart gave an extra beat. "Any time."
