Tirone
“Her thorns were my only delight,” I said under my breath as fire gnashed at me with every touch, every kiss of his sickening lips on her skin. He wouldn’t understand that quote, but she would. I said it so she’d make him stop before I snapped because, God help me, I’d fucking kill him and destroy the three of us. How was I supposed to just watch and pretend it was okay for another man to leave his mark on her when she was mine? Mine! Fucking MINE!
She swallowed when she read the fury in my eyes. “Can we get out of here? This place is so creepy, and I still don’t feel well.”
“Sure, baby. How about you rest, and I’ll send Doc to check on you, okay?” Furore fucking kissed her again. My fist balled, ready for a punch. He darted a glance at me. “You come with me. I’ll show you your room.”
My fists clenched and unclenched a hundred times as he led us back up, as his arms wrapped around her when it should have been my arms holding her.
Keep it together. Don’t you see how much she’s ready to sacrifice for him? If you kill him now, she’ll never forgive you.
I don’t care about her forgiveness. I don’t care if she fucking hates me. All I care about is having her. She’s mine, Goddammit. He stole her from me. I can’t let him have her. Not for one second. I have to get her back. NOW.
Not like that. You’re gonna lose her if you hurt him. A new plan is in order. Just keep it the fuck together.
I recited Pushkin in my head. Poetry had always managed to shift my focus when my head roamed into the darkness. Weird for the popular player who rode a bike and wore leather? Yeah, but I didn’t give a fuck. I recited I Loved You until I reached that part.
In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain;
I loved you so tenderly and truly,
As let you else be loved by any man.
Fuck you, Pushkin. I’d be damned before I let her be loved by another man.
What if I don’t hurt him first? What if I keep him for last?Jo was a good person. She’d care about innocent lives. She’d just said she didn’t care about her own life if she couldn’t be with him, though. I had to play a different game.
In his room, he helped her lie down on his filthy bed. The sight of her alone in another man’s bed made my heart bleed.
When I came here, I had a plan; force Jo to go back with me. I thought when she knew the full truth about who I was and why I left, she’d stop playing this stupid game and come back home to me. I thought even if she didn’t, I’d threaten her like I did two days ago, and she’d be scared enough to do what I said. Yet her reaction to all my moves startled me, even shook me.
Fuck, I was ready to kill for her, and she was ready to kill herself for him.How could you think like that, Jo? How could you feel that way for him?
The black fire wrapping around my heart and soul were enough to eat me and them alive, but I wouldn’t surrender to the darkness, not yet. I wasn’t going to give up that easily. I’d never give her up. She was mine, and she knew it. I still had a few tricks up my sleeve, and I’d play till the last card.
I needed a new plan to win her back, but how could I have the patience and tolerance to watch her with him every day, to just stand there when he touched her, when she lay in his fucking bed?
I ran both hands through my hair as he leaned in to kiss her. Fuck this shit. “I’d been riding for twenty hours. Where’s my room?”
He tucked her in, and I wanted to burn this whole house down with him in it.That’s my fucking job, you motherfucking prick.Then he strode toward me and shut the door. “Your room is here, right next to mine.”
“No fucking way.” There was no way in hell I could keep it together while I listened to her being fucked by someone else.
“It’s the only free room we have.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Get one of your brothers to move in it and give me his. I won’t listen to you fucking my teacher all night.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What if I was fucking someone else? You’d still have a problem?”
“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
He squinted at me. “Do you have a problem listening to me fucking pussy or fuckingherpussy?”
My pussy you stole you son of a fuck. Should I tell him and squeeze his heart bloody, and then slice it with a blunt knife, piece by piece until he bled out? I was dying to, but that would totally ruin my new plan and wouldn’t give me Jo. “Again, the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Then you’re a sick fucking bastard.” So was I. Because of him. “And that’s your problem, not mine. The room? I’m tired.”