Siren's Song

Part 8

Warning- spicy scene

Getting off the train, I realized it was late. I wonder if someone fed Harley. 11:30. BrewDog's closing time. Is Patrick there? He normally closes up. By the time I realized where I was, I was standing by BrewDogs entrance, watching Patrick mop the floor. I knocked on the door, and closed my eyes, setting my head on the glass of the door. It's cold. I heard the door next to me open.

"Siren?!" Patrick yelled, placing my arm over his shoulder and leading me inside. That's not my name? I winced at the loud voice. He set me down on a couch somewhere and walked away, so I opened my eyes slowly. It was the couch I normally sit at. Patrick came back holding injury cleaning supplies.

"I need food" I begged, latching onto his hand. Blood on my hands. Leaving Sam. His eyes widened but he nodded and got up, heading towards the kitchen. So kind, maybe I dreamed his outburst. I started to drift in and out of consciousness as Patrick started walking back over, holding a plate of vegetables and fruit. Food. I grabbed some of the broccoli and apples, scarfing them down quickly. Patrick started putting some alcohol on some cotton balls, and I kept swaying in and out of consciousness. He muttered something, and then I felt a searing hot pain on my arm. My eyes snap open, and they fixate on a fearful looking Patrick, who holds a cotton ball on one of my cuts. I was awake now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I know it hurts."

"Unimaginably so" I whispered back

He let me grab his hand as he cleaned the rest of my cuts. All he kept muttering was; this is all my fault. I chased you away. What the fuck happened? I wanted to cry and yell and hug him all at the same time. After he had cleaned me up, and I had eaten, we drove to my flat. Harley came running towards me, jumping on me, but then realizing that he shouldn't do that. I pet him and he went and sat down.

"I should stay here tonight, in case something goes wrong during your sleep," Patrick mumbled, "if that's alright"

"I'm okay with that." I answered. I was fully here, but at the same time it felt like I was still in that cell. We went and sat on the couch, and he just stared at me. I knew he was going to ask me what happened. I wasn't ready for that. I felt myself moving forward quickly, smashing my lips on his. Is this okay? Does he even like me? He doesn't fully kiss back, so I start to move away, but then he grabs my waist and pulls me closer, not letting me go. He pulls me onto his lap, causing my legs to spread on either side of his. I smiled into the kiss, and he smiled back, tightening his grip around my waist. I moved my hips into him, and I felt the rumble of approval in his throat. His mouth traveled down my jaw and throat, landing right below my collarbone. I moaned quietly as he kept kissing there, knowing I liked it, earning another groan of approval. He slowly lifted his hands from my waist towards my shirt, wiggling it off. My scar from the lion. Don't notice, by all the gods please don't notice. I watched his eyes go wide as he stopped kissing me, eyes trailing on the large scar on my chest. I started to move away, but his grip on my waist was intense.

"Siren," he whispered, voice shaking, "you need to tell me what the fuck happened in the last three months"

That's not my name. Dragon is my name. I shook my head, forcing myself away from him. It wasn't even his grip that kept me there. It was my own body, betraying me. I grabbed my shirt off the floor, and moved towards my bedroom. My body wanted me to run back to him. To kiss him and promise him it would all be alright. No, Dragon.

"Maybe tomorrow," I told him, turning around to see his panic stricken face, "I'm sorry."

I tossed and turned all night, not used to the comfy bed. I was filled with emotions and feelings, which I hadn't felt in a long time.