circling their prey. I stepped through them, heading for the door… Hoots and hollers followed me, a band of brothers trying to cope with grief and loss in the only way they could.
“Tonight, we drink for Marlo,” Acre shouted behind me. I trembled inside and out. The men left me alone in the room, and I stood there almost twenty minutes before finally reaching for the door.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
The door clicked shut behind me, and Black rose from his leather chair, walking across the room and drawing the deadbolt and chains to secure the door. I could feel the warmth of his body as he stepped back around me, his eyes inspecting me like a prized possession. I watched as he finished wiping away the blood from his face with a wet cloth, dropping it in a small sink.
“Thank you, Marcus…”
“For what sweetheart?”
“For stopping him…”
Black stared at me, breathing heavily, his body still rippling beneath his clothing.
“Come here,” Black said, his eyes deep pools of icy blue.
I didn’t answer, and Black didn’t seem interested in waiting. He reached out, grabbing my wrist much like Jude had. The difference was, Marcus’s hand was gentler. Insistent, firm, but not aiming to inflict pain. It was a strange feeling, and I found myself whimpering as my body grew hot beneath his touch.
“No,” I whispered, trying to draw my hand away. Black leaned in, sweeping me up by my waist and pulling my body into his. He carried me across the room toward the darkened areas near the corner. My heart raced. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Jude was gone, Black was here, my body was confused with emotions both excited and terrified. Before I knew it, his hand had swept upward brushing against the painful lines I’d drawn on my arm, the skin still healing.
“I knew it the minute I first saw you…”
His voice was soft on my ear, breath warm against my cheek.
“I don’t understand,” I replied, trying to hide my pain as he squeezed my arm.
“You’re like me… You’re damaged.”
The words slapped me upside the face almost as hard as a hand would have. Without warning, he pulled his jacket off, tearing his undershirt free and exposing his body. I found myself staring, but it wasn’t his impressive physique that had me captivated.
It was the lines. Old scars, thin and tanned. They ran down his arm, remnants of old memories. Almost faded enough to forget, but still with him. How long had it been since he put a knife to his skin? A year? Two?
“You don’t deserve what’s happening to you. You can beat this.”
Somehow, I took strength in his words. I’d always been damaged. Looking for the next thrill, seeking out the next dangerous moment. I lived my life in the fear and the excitement that being damaged brought me…
“I’m not what you think I am,” I whispered, hesitant. Black stayed close, breathing deeply.
“You’re hurt,” I said, looking at the gash on his forehead. It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought, and it had already stopped bleeding, but it was definitely going to add another scar to his face. Another line to join all the others, only this one wasn’t self inflicted... My fingertip reached up, touching a few of the lines that traveled across his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Black replied, moving in closer. His lips pressed against the skin of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You’re the least perfect creature I’ve ever seen, and I want you more than fucking life.”
“We can’t do this…” I said, my voice shaking.
“I know you want to.”
“It’s too soon.”
I pulled away from his grasp, my heart racing even as wicked desire filled my mind. I didn’t want Black to wait… I wanted him to take me. I wanted him to
“Tonight, we drink for Marlo,” Acre shouted behind me. I trembled inside and out. The men left me alone in the room, and I stood there almost twenty minutes before finally reaching for the door.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
The door clicked shut behind me, and Black rose from his leather chair, walking across the room and drawing the deadbolt and chains to secure the door. I could feel the warmth of his body as he stepped back around me, his eyes inspecting me like a prized possession. I watched as he finished wiping away the blood from his face with a wet cloth, dropping it in a small sink.
“Thank you, Marcus…”
“For what sweetheart?”
“For stopping him…”
Black stared at me, breathing heavily, his body still rippling beneath his clothing.
“Come here,” Black said, his eyes deep pools of icy blue.
I didn’t answer, and Black didn’t seem interested in waiting. He reached out, grabbing my wrist much like Jude had. The difference was, Marcus’s hand was gentler. Insistent, firm, but not aiming to inflict pain. It was a strange feeling, and I found myself whimpering as my body grew hot beneath his touch.
“No,” I whispered, trying to draw my hand away. Black leaned in, sweeping me up by my waist and pulling my body into his. He carried me across the room toward the darkened areas near the corner. My heart raced. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Jude was gone, Black was here, my body was confused with emotions both excited and terrified. Before I knew it, his hand had swept upward brushing against the painful lines I’d drawn on my arm, the skin still healing.
“I knew it the minute I first saw you…”
His voice was soft on my ear, breath warm against my cheek.
“I don’t understand,” I replied, trying to hide my pain as he squeezed my arm.
“You’re like me… You’re damaged.”
The words slapped me upside the face almost as hard as a hand would have. Without warning, he pulled his jacket off, tearing his undershirt free and exposing his body. I found myself staring, but it wasn’t his impressive physique that had me captivated.
It was the lines. Old scars, thin and tanned. They ran down his arm, remnants of old memories. Almost faded enough to forget, but still with him. How long had it been since he put a knife to his skin? A year? Two?
“You don’t deserve what’s happening to you. You can beat this.”
Somehow, I took strength in his words. I’d always been damaged. Looking for the next thrill, seeking out the next dangerous moment. I lived my life in the fear and the excitement that being damaged brought me…
“I’m not what you think I am,” I whispered, hesitant. Black stayed close, breathing deeply.
“You’re hurt,” I said, looking at the gash on his forehead. It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought, and it had already stopped bleeding, but it was definitely going to add another scar to his face. Another line to join all the others, only this one wasn’t self inflicted... My fingertip reached up, touching a few of the lines that traveled across his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Black replied, moving in closer. His lips pressed against the skin of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You’re the least perfect creature I’ve ever seen, and I want you more than fucking life.”
“We can’t do this…” I said, my voice shaking.
“I know you want to.”
“It’s too soon.”
I pulled away from his grasp, my heart racing even as wicked desire filled my mind. I didn’t want Black to wait… I wanted him to take me. I wanted him to
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