Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To...
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Iris
I slept. I know that without having opened my eyes. I did after years of troubled nights. I drifted into a deep slumber for hours. I was safe, Rage's body so close to me. He fell on the pillow and didn't even turn to look at me. I could see the titanic effort he was making controlling his own self from jumping off his skin. He did this for me and I was happy enough to see him so close. I rolled on my side as I always do to keep off my back facing him and I stared for what seemed like hours. Just watching the angles of his flawless face, his brawny chest going up and down, his muscles tensing as if he is going to be attacked any moment. He was in the same state when my eyelids got heavy and I slept.
I flutter my eyes open and I see that it is still early out. The other thing I instantly know is that he isn't in the bed. But I feel him close, he is in the room. I sense him. I turn my head softly and I see him, sitting on the floor where the pale light of the new-born day fills the room, only in his jeans and he is crouched. For a moment I dread he is carving himself up and fear chills my soul. Fear that me asking him to sleep close upset him.
But he isn't. He is bent over some notebook with a leather cover and he holds a pen in his hand. He is drawing! My mouth drops and I don't move so not to alert him. He is so focused, so concentrated. And calm. Tears come up into my eyes and I feel them roll down my side. I have never seen him so peaceful, his whole body relaxed, no lines on his beautiful face. I can't see what he is drawing but he is giving it all his soul. Curiosity takes the best in me and I sit up. His eyes shoot up instantly.
"Good morning," I blush.
He says nothing. Just closes the notebook and tightens his fingers around it. He then hurries and gets up.
"Good morning," his gruff voice reaches me and I lick my lips. "You slept well."
"I did. Thank you."
He runs his fingers through his mohawk as I get up and approach him. I see the thin lines around his eyes and the dark circles under his eyes and I lift my fingers to trace the lines around his eyes.
"You didn't sleep well."
"I was afraid to sleep. The Hellhound might have woken up to hurt you."
I smile softly and I wrap my arms around him. Once more he hisses at my intimate touch but then he rests his chin on the top of my head and he pulls me closer too. I inhale his essence deep and stay there. I would be glad to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life. But I want more. I crave for more.
I smile and I tighten my arms around him to let his fingers through my hair and I look up into his eyes and he leans closer. I throw my head back and his lips claim me while his arms tense around me. This is so hot, I get lost in the sensation his lips provide and my hands roam on his body with zeal. He is so incredibly strong, so perfectly chiseled I simply can't get enough.
