Going Thru Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

room. Or, in words better suited to your actions, get out.” I pointed at the door.
    “No.”
    I sized him up, calculating his size and my strength , made bets, added the odds. Damn, I couldn't sling his ass over my shoulder and cart him outside. “You do realize this is the twenty-first century and you no longer get to play caveman with women, right?”
    “It's for your own protection. They moved on you, in the open.”
    I wanted to argue, but I'd sound like a spoiled child because, technically, he was correct. “Can't argue that point. Although I'm a little fuzzy as to when I asked you to be my bodyguard.”
    I walked to the little fridge and found the door full of those cute little alcoholic bottles more expensive than a drink at the Waldorf. I grabbed the vodka, Jack Daniels and Jim Beam, marched into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, and settled on the toilet lid. Despite the lemon face at the end of each shot, I finished all six.
    I sat for a long time, and let the alcohol fog any real thoughts. It dulled the humming from his close vicinity. I counted on my prudishness when drunk. I was insanely grateful for the quirk, and wondered if spending a few weeks half bombed would give him a hint.
    Pounding on the door pulled me from a nice doze. I let him bang on the door, ignored the repeated inquiries after my health. When he broke the doorknob and slammed the door open, I looked up calmly.
    “Can I help you?”
    “You are in danger, yet act like a petulant child,” his voice louder with every word.
    “Does yelling at me make you feel better?”
    “No!” He slammed the door, which swung open again.
    I giggled.
    I stood and stumbled to the suitcase, grabbing Looney Toons pajama bottoms with matching blue camisole.
    I n the bathroom, I tried to close the door a few times before realizing it would remain busted until the Neanderthal fixed it. Still giggling, I changed, not caring if he could see me. An alcohol fogged thought filtered through, Why do I trust a strange immortal not to harm me?
    I moseyed to the bed, flopped down, grabbed the remote and flipped channels to SyFy. Reruns of my favorite shows were on the menu, expected at the early morning hour. I snuggled into the pillows, ignoring the angry , pacing male. My eyelids grew heavy and I checked out of reality.
    The smell of food woke me , along with the pounding of an alcohol-induced hangover.
    “Good morning, Sunshine.”
    I ignored him, instead searching for coffee. I could smell the dark bitter brew and was desperate to find it. My vision a bit blurry, I attempted to slide out of bed and instead made the long, familiar fall into carpet. I sprang up, pain bolting across my face from the healing rug burns. I hissed, eyes watering, and stumbled for the bathroom. Cold water didn't help as much as I wanted, but didn't stop me from continuing to splash it over the wounds.
    A towel covered in strange red goo appeared. I reached for it automatically, nose wrinkling at the bad smell.
    “Wipe this on carefully, Braider. It will help with the pain and healing.”
    U nable to form coherent words, I did as he demanded. The goo smelled like herbs I didn’t recognize, but it cooled the burns and relieved the pain. I moaned in relief.
    “What is that crap?”
    “Family secret.”
    I rolled my eyes behind closed lids. “Thank you. It's helping.”
    I dropped the towel, looking into the mirror. My face resembled the aftermath of a nineties Nickelodeon tweenie game. I wrinkled my nose at the image and moved around Aki to the small table in the room. A setting for each of us, food and mugs sat quietly, waiting to be used. Taking a seat, I filled my plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and poured coffee into the mug. A little salt and pepper , I shoveled the food as if it'd been days since my last meal.
    Four mugs of coffee, three pauses, two platefuls and one good belch later, I sat back, rubbing my distended belly and smiling.
    “A lass that eats. Unusual