The Last Love Of Arthur Morgan

The Storm Within

**Warning**
NSFW ahead!

This chapter is loaded and you'll see why, just keep on reading.
...

Arthur woke the next morning feeling hungover, without the pleasure of having a drink. He reached over to wake Lorna, but she was gone - her side of the bed cold. It must've been a lot later than he originally thought.

With a grunt, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and used the palms of his hands to rub his eyes. 

"I was wondering when you'd wake up."

The voice alone was taunting and a cold chill ran down his spine. He slowly raised his head and looked toward the balcony, where Dutch stood leaning against the railing. Arthur was nervous and slightly confused, as to why he was in his room in the first place.

"Uh, were you...watching me sleep?"

Dutch chuckled."Only for a few minutes. It's just about noon now, everyone is awake. You missed breakfast."

Arthur squinted."When did you get in?"

"Oh about four this morning."

Arthur was worried by his odd behavior. He was acting as if nothing happened, when so much has happened. The tension between them made Arthur's stomach churn. 

"I hope your honeymoon was everything you expected it to be?" His words were clearly said with malice, but a smile was still present on his face.

Arthur inwardly cringed."Yeah, well you know how it goes. Daughter brings outlaw home, in-laws kick 'em out."

Dutch chuckled and pushed off the railing."Get used to it, Arthur."

As the dark haired man strutted towards the door, he puffed on his cigar and blew a cloud of smoke in Arthur's face.

The younger man was caught off guard and choked on the smoke, he brought his hand up to his mouth to wipe away some moisture on his lip. However, when he dropped his hand, something caught his attention.

He glanced down at his closed fist and saw what was clearly blood on his skin. He swallowed thickly, the taste of metallic very faint in the back of his throat. His heart began thudding wildly against his chest and his blood turned cold. He jumped up off the bed and rushed to the mirror on the dresser, and there right before his eyes, blood stained his bottom lip. 

It was enough to startle him and make him wonder what the hell was wrong, but not enough for him to go see the Doctor in town. He chalked it up to coughing too hard, though the thought was very much present in his mind, as just another thing to weigh him down. 

As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his head began to spin. What was Dutch doing? Why was he watching him sleep? Why did he just cough up blood? Where was Lorna?His head shot up at that and he rushed out of the room, remembering what Hosea told him the night before.

He took to the stairs, nearly stumbling over his own feet. And when he got to the first floor, he charged through the halls, through the parlor and burst through the double doors. 

The sun was hot on his skin and all too bright for his eyes. He held up his arm to shield his eyes until they adjusted, then quickly scanned around camp; his eyes landing on every nook and cranny this shit hole provided, until his sky blue orbs landed on her. Lorna.

His shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh of relief. He reached into his satchel and fished out his pack of cigarette's, struck a match on his boot and lit it.

Now that one crisis was averted, his mind wandered back to Dutch. A cold chill ran down his spine again and he looked around, preparing himself to see the man in thought.