Smoke And Mirror (Royal Angel l) - S01 E22

Story 3 years ago

Smoke And Mirror (Royal Angel l) - S01 E22

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 22

“Cotton and crows”

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Victoria's POV

” You’re a fighter, not some prissy little princess.”

I took a deep breath, adjusting the grip on my leg. The son of a bîtch guardian had missed my ankle by a mere inch.

Earlier, I’d tried a makeshift dressing with some cloth dipped in spirit, but I knew that bullet was going to cost me my leg if it stayed there.

“Don’t ever wait for a hero to save the day.”

I bit down on a rag and picked up the tweezers. I looked at the clock with some apprehension. I only had a few minutes left to finish the job.

Biscuit was away only for so long.

“Quit being such a wimp and handle it like a woman.”

I did my best not to scream as I found the metal and pulled it out. It was beyond excruciating and despite my self control, a painful whimper got out.

And then it was done.

“That’s my girl.”

Yeah, my dad did always have his own special brew of tough love.

Imagining his voice in my head, I swallowed a lump in my throat. I knew it wasn’t just because of the pain in my leg that time.

Quit being an emotional wreck. We have enough to worry about without a hugely depressing flashback.

Right on cue, Biscuit stepped out of the shower, looking alert.

He cocked his head. “I thought I heard something.”

“A crow came in through the window.” I offered lamely.

Biscuiy looked at the blood on my hands, understanding dawning on him. He sighed. “Was the crow also trying to take out a bullet?”

“Naw.” I shrugged, super casually wiping my blood stained fingers on a piece of cloth. “The crow stole my sandwich. So I beat that bîtch and got it back.”

“Right.” Biscuit smiled, softly. “Totally.”

“Totally.” I echoed, sheepish.

I should probably mention here that Biscuit was wearing only a white towel.

His dirt blonde hair was soaking wet, his every muscle accentuated and taut. For the first time, I saw his real eyes.

Endless pools of ocean blue stared through to my very soul, silver and gold flecks dancing in the sunlight.

“So, um, are you going back inside?” I asked, my eyes automatically going to that muscular V disappearing under that awfully small cloth. “Because the, um, crow might come back and steal your towel too.”

Awkward level 1000.

“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you, Shortcake?” He winked.

I rolled my eyes. “Might peck off more than your towel.”

Biscuit gave me a fake gasp.

“What do you and your pet crow have against my dîck?”

I blushed. “Nothing personal.”

“Well, I believe we should change that.” He suggested.

“Please shut up.” I muttered, as a nice little picture of how that would go played in my head. “And- and go put some clothes on.”

Biscuit looked at me curiously, pursing his lips.

“You’d have to be awfully flexible to do that though, Shortcake.”

Wait, what?

Motherfücking perverted son of a bîtch.

“You promised.” I said, murderous. “You promised you’d stay out of my head.”

“I also promised myself I’d never say no to free p--n.” He shrugged. “Priorities.”

“You should be glad I can’t walk.” I said, dangerously.

“Don’t worry, there’s still plenty of things we can do, baby.” Biscuit said, straight-faced. “69 of them, to be precise.”

I didn’t have anything heavy nearby to throw at him. But I was too furious to consider the laws of Physics, so I threw some cotton in his general direction.

It floated to the ground near his feet, almost caressing his toes.

What the hell, cotton?

Even plant fibre wanted to get it on with him.

“You think about sex way too much.” I said, fuming. “Go get laid, Biscuit. Fück some stable girl or something.”

Biscuit was now in the process of using a blow dryer. He was being pretty aggressive, like he could wrestle the water away with sheer heat. His poor hair looked like it was being beaten into submission.

I sighed.

Shifting my position on the bed, I gestured to him to get another towel and sit on the floor, in front of me.

“And you’d be okay with that?” Biscuit asked me, as I used the towel gently to dry his hair. “With me fücking a random stranger, that is?”

I thought about it.

“Yes.” I said. “Of course, I’d be fine.”

Only after I said it, did I realise I was lying both to him and to myself.

“Right.” He turned to look at the expression on my face. “Totally.”

I ran my hands through his hair, messing it up in the process. His muscles were tense, but his deep blue eyes had a soft undertone beneath their stormy surface.

It looked a lot like affection.

“Totally.” I repeated, feeling hollow.

I rested my hands on his shoulders after I was done. Biscuit took my fingers in his palms and kissed my nails. It was so innocent and tender, I didn’t have it in me to pull away.

“So, um, clothes?” I suggested awkwardly, not sure how to respond to that. “I’m all for Tarzan, but loin cloths don’t work in the real world.”

A necessary reminder because this guy seemed to be in his zone when he was almost naked.

Biscuit laughed and tugged on his clothes from yesterday. Being stuck in the middle of nowhere meant you couldn’t be too picky.

I looked away as he pulled on his pants because a) them abs. b) them, well, everything else.

“Will you let me look at your leg now?” He asked, cautiously, after he was done.

“I’m not going to bite you.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, if the past has been any indication.” He said, touching his neck vaguely.

“Like that’s ever stopped you.” I muttered. “Go on. There’s nothing to do anyway. I’ve taken out the bullet and it’s clean now.”

He resumed his position on the ground, only this time facing me.

“You said you trust me.” He said, looking me in the eyes. “Did you mean it?”

All the crap he’d pulled on me since day one played over in my head. Every insult, every threat, every annoying little thing he’d done.

And even after reviewing all that, I still had the same answer.

“Unfortunately, yes.” I sighed. “I do trust you. But only because I hit my head or have a stroke or something.”

“Whatever floats your boat, baby.”

Biscuit smiled as he tenderly touched the skin next to that angry gaping wound. Suddenly a bolt of electricity shot through me and I felt the most pain I’d ever been in in my entire life.

It only lasted a minute but it felt like a century.

When it was done, I noticed that I’d thrashed around violently, managing to scratch Biscuit quite a few times in the process.

“What the fück is wrong with you?!” I yelled, getting on my feet. “I’m definitely not into masochism. Maybe some bondage, but that’s it-”

Biscuit was quietly laughing, looking at me.

“Good to know.” He got up. “Now aren’t you going to ask me how you can stand?”

I looked at my leg, my mouth falling open.

“Magic.” I said, quietly looking at the unbroken skin. It wasn’t even red. “This isn’t legal either, is it?”

Biscuit shrugged, as the nail marks on his face disappeared before my eyes. “If we’re going rogue, might as well do it the right way.”

There was a reason magic was illegal. Apparently, it worked through the very life force of the user and to play with your soul was a highly dangerous game.

This guy was playing with it like it was his pet kitten.

Who the fück are you, Biscuit?

***

If you could have one magical pet, what would it be? (Personally, I want Toothless. Because Toothless is life.)

Victoria : POLITELY OFFERS A COTTON BALL “LIKE BECAUSE I JUST GAVE YOU A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION.”