I scroll, scanning every detail, every face, burning them into my memory and locking them down before backing out of every app and tossing the phone onto the bed like I never touched it. Like I didn’t just tear open a part of her she never meant to show.
I run a hand through my hair as something scratches at the back of my skull. None of it sits right. It feels off and too fucking calculated. This isn’t random. It’s some kind of revenge plot. A hit list. Did these motherfuckers… hurt her? Did they touch my little corpse?
I start pacing, blood hot, murderous thoughts swirling, fingers twitching as I think about the scars on her body, but the second I hear the bathroom door creak open, I stop, eyes locking onto the threshold.
She steps inside, towel wrapped around her, hair drenched down her neck and she’s holding a med box. The moment her eyes meet mine, she stops and there’s a glimmer of something in them. Surprise, maybe. Maybe she didn’t actually think I’d still be here.
“You’re still here?” she asks, voice light but her eyes drift toward her phone on the bed.
When her gaze flashes back to mine again, she watches me while she walks toward it, scooping it up in her hand. I track her every move as she turns toward the bedside cabinet, pulls the drawer open and shoves it inside.
She lowers the med box onto the bed, then brushes that long, black hair, sneaking little peeps at me like she’s trying not to be obvious. When she’s finished, she tosses the brush aside and crawls onto the bed, laying on it like she’s waiting for something. Waiting for me.
As her eyes find mine, they’re expectant and mine shift to the door. I think about leaving again, just walk the fuck out like I always do, but when I glance back at her, I catch it, that subtle look of disappointment, like she knew I’d bail after having my way with her. Like she’s already used to being let the fuck down.
My hands clench and jaw tightens, but I push past the impulse to disappear and move around the bed. I get on and lie back against the headboard, one leg hanging off, eyes locked ahead like it’s gonna give me answers.
But when she edges toward me, my stare cuts to hers, sharp and fast. She’s gonna do it. I can feel it. That touchy, intimate shit I’ve never done before.
What do they call it again? Oh yeah. Cuddling.
I’ve already kissed her tonight, broke every fucking rule I live by, and now she wants this… whatever this is. And yeah, I’ll give it to her. Cause it seems I’d do just about anything for my little corpse.
As Soul would call it… Fucking pussy whipped.
She curls into me, tucking herself right under my arm like she was always meant to be there, and her face rests on my pec. I stare down at my arm like it doesn’t belong to me, lowering with a mind of its own until my hand rests lazily on her ass.
She lifts her head suddenly, chin landing on my chest, and my red eyes lock on hers like a shot to the spine.
“So, you do have a heart in there,” she says, face flat, unreadable.
My brow twitches while I think back to that photo I saw of her, and something shifts in me.
I push her back, making her lie beneath me as I lean over, propped on one elbow. I stare down at her, my gaze locked on her lips and then lift my hand. With my finger and thumb, I press at the corners of her mouth and shove them upward in a rough, mocking smile.
Her brows pinch together, confused and caught off guard, but it’s not enough. My hand slips down to her ribs, and I dig my fingers in, harsh and persistent.
Right away, laughter tears from her lips before she can stop it, her body jolting under mine. She swats at my hand and tries to push it away, but the smile still lingers.
I freeze and drink her in.
There it was. She fucking smiled for me.
“What was that about?” she asks, breathless, her eyes scanning my painted face, trying to decipher what the hell’s going on inside me.
When my lips part, her gaze drops to them, but I feel the heaviness building inside me, like I’m already suffocating on the words I can’t say.
Just tell her you fucking idiot. Tell her you think she’s beautiful when she smiles.Tell her she’s prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen.Tell her. Tell her.I repeat the words over and over like a mantra in my mind. But it’s as if my brain and mouth aren’t connected.
I grit my teeth before clearing my throat, my eyes closing as I turn my face away. Opening my mouth, my breath hitches, but again, all that comes out is a fucking strangled choke. I feel the heat of anger mixing with the desperation. I can’t fucking stand it. I can’t stand how I can’t give her what she deserves to fucking hear.
I’m ready to storm the fuck out and let the silence consume me. But then her hand finds my face, warm and gentle, and it pulls me back to her.
“Don’t force it,” she whispers, her blue eyes calm, scanning mine, and understanding something I can’t even begin to explain.
But it makes me relax, and I drop my gaze as her hand falls to my chest.
I vaguely remember when I stopped speaking. Mid-teens, maybe. We were in that home after our initiation, all four of us, run by The Shadows. We weren’t raised, we were forged. Trained, cut down and rebuilt, over and over, until the fucking softness bled out and only sharp edges remained. To be honest, I was already halfway fucked just from being in Valen’s hands during my early years, long before I ever even got there.