Chapter Fourteen
Catherine
There was an almost unidentifiable shift in the air.
Where that had been desolation, there was hope now.
I defied my demons, I ignored my heart. I wanted Brando. Had him. Needed him. Would do my best in this war.
His tongue twisted with mine, feeding my soul at the same time we starved. I savored the silky, hot taste of him. I felt lit but forced down. Like dropping a lit candle into a glass jar and screwing on the lid slowly. My flame still burned, but for how long?
What was Brando so afraid of? I tore my lips free of his and gasped for air as his lips continued torturing me. I was still mad at him. I was still hurt. And I was still very much aware of what happened the other night. Part of me wanted to go back to Denver. To live in his house where we were both confused.
In my space, I was supposed to know what to do. I didn’t.
I didn’t know anything at all but him.
And when every ounce of knowledge you possess lies in a man, you’re asking for trouble and ignorance.
I slid away from him and sat up, bringing my knees to my chest. He wanted me, and I wanted him, but nothing was fixed between us.
“Go home.” I rested my chin on my kneecap and stared at the television. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked, a knowing edge to his voice.
“No. Okay? No. I never wanted you to leave in the first place. But you don’t care what I want. You’ve done you since the moment we met.”
“That isn’t fair, Cat. I didn’t know I’d be here in your bed defending my feelings when we first met either.”
He hadn’t defended his feelings, though. Wanting me and keeping me weren’t the same. I couldn’t take this anymore. The back and forth. The maybe I love him, the maybe he loves me. The up and down and back and forth. I wanted to run. Far away. The worst part was, I wanted to take him with me.
I wanted him to chase me.
To catch me.
To hold on tight when it was hard.
To love my body when things were good.
To never, ever let me go.
“Then defend your feelings.” I stared straight, forbidding myself to cry, to break. A commercial came on, and the clear blue waters of a travel advertisement tugged on my soul. Hawaii. Magic. I wanted magic.
“My feelings are pretty simple when they come to you. They always have been. It’s me who complicates them. I complicate it. I … can’t forget, and everything I remember dictates the choices I make now. I keep a simple life. No one in, no one out. I put on suits to hide the tattoos. I went to college, I became a cop, a detective. I ran. I moved. All of that’s complicated too. You’re the only thing that’s made sense to me since I woke up in that hospital bed.”
The in-between was a contorted twisted maze. So much of what mattered got lost in the middle.
“What do you want me to do?” He reached for me, but I stared straight, studying the blue waters, the perfect sand. “Ask you to be my girlfriend?”
I hated how stupid that sounded. How mundane and ordinary.
I blinked the tears from my eyes. His hand wrapped around my wrist.
“I don’t know what to do here. Baby, tell me, so I can do it.” He tugged on my wrist.
I wrenched it free, focusing so hard on the ocean on the advertisement, I saw fish swimming below the water. I bet it looked magical under that water. So bright and alive. So meaningful, free of pain, full of wonder.
“Take me to Hawaii,” I heard myself say before I could even think.
There was silence on his end for a few seconds. The commercial ended, switching to one that was as meaningless as I was. I closed my eyes in misery. Set loose. That’s what that monster did to me the other night. He tore down every safe house I’d built in my heart and set loose every weak spot I eluded myself into thinking I no longer had.
He cleared his throat. And then he opened his mouth. “Okay.”
My eyes snapped open. “Okay? What do you mean okay?”
“I mean let’s go. You and me. To Hawaii.” He smiled, but it was off, slightly tainted in desperateness. He wanted to make me happy.
It was working. “When?”
“Right now.” He rose onto his knees in front of me and grabbed my face between his hands, his eyes bright, clear, excited even, with the prospect of doing something for me. “Let’s go. Don’t let the in-between screw this up. You want to go, I want to take you—let’s do it.”
I was so close to falling for this idea, I could already smell the salt in the air, feel the muggy breeze on my face. “We can’t just leave—”
“Yes, we can. I have forty five hundred left in my savings. Another two thousand in my bank account. That’s six thousand dollars and a whole lot more in magic. Please, Cat. We need this.”
We needed it.
He needed it.
I needed it.
We needed it.
“What about the shop?”
He brought his lips down on mine. They were amazing lips. Soft, full, scruffy around the edges from his beard. Hot like fire and silky like scrubbing velvet over my lips. I succumbed to them immediately, moaning into his kiss when he did the same.
“Start packing. One bag. Light. I’ll go do the same. Be outside with Trixie in an hour.”
“What—”
He plunged his tongue back into my mouth … and everything made sense for a few more seconds. When I opened my eyes, he was peering down at me with electricity and hunger burning in his.
“One hour,” he stressed, giving me one more back arching, panty dampening kiss.
“One hour,” I repeated breathlessly, clutching a hand to my chest as he left the room.
I jumped up from my bed and turned on the lights. I didn’t let myself think. Didn’t give myself a chance to feel anything other than excitement. My bags were still unpacked from being in Denver, but strewn and gutted. I tossed things in unthinkingly. Pants, panties, hair brush, toothpaste, shoes, and my cell phone charger.
I barely breathed the entire time, my chest full of something strange. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this way. Ever feeling this … hopeful.
Much like Brando, I spent most of my life running. Hiding. Just trying to survive.
Hawaii may be another horrible pattern for us. But we were willing to take that risk.
Otherwise, our demons won.
I packed Trixie’s things, put her harness on, and her leash, and then I wrote Klay a note and laid it on top of his laptop.
Klay,
Gone magic hunting. Don’t be mad.
Love,
Cat.
(The best person you’ve ever met.)
Brando was idling outside when I made it out to the parking lot.
We didn’t talk. We didn’t talk when we got to the airport. We didn’t talk when he bought two one-way tickets and paid the pet fee. We didn’t talk when we went through security or boarded the plane. He didn’t say anything to me until we were in the air, catching the only flight left out of PDX at five in the morning.
“We’re not coming home until you find what you’re looking for.” Then he pulled his hood down over his eyes and slept the rest of the flight, Trixie folded in a ball between us, happy to be thousands of miles in the air.
I figured I’d ride this crazy ride out the only way I knew how. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I found what I was looking for when I met him.
What I needed was a way to keep him.
For early November, Hawaii was hot as balls.
I gasped the moment we stepped out of the automatic doors in Oahu. The air was moist with heat, immediately taking my breath away.
The sun was shining high in the clear blue sky. Even the air smelled different, thick of salt and free of pollutants. I’d never been here. My demons had no idea how to threaten my happiness, so they just didn’t.
“Ha,” I murmured, letting Trixie down.
We looked so out of place next to the Hawaiian print shirts and shorts. We’d packed wrong. Portland was cold, wet, and snowy. Our hoodies were now obsolete. My skinny jeans were already sticking to me like glue.
Brando waved down a taxi. I gave him a glare when he tried to help with the bags. Magician or not, he was still hurt.
“Aloha,” the driver greeted when we settled in the back. “Welcome to Hawaii. Where to?”
“Cheapest hotel with the best view,” I spoke up.
He chuckled. “Not sure those two go together. But I know an affordable hotel within walking distance?”
“Sounds good, thank you,” Brando said, clutching at his side. “Muggy air’s making me work a little harder to breathe.”
I bit my lip in worry, studying his face for signs he was hurting. Sweat dripped down his temple. “Take your sweatshirt off.”
He tried, but the motions made him cringe, so I shifted in my seat and pulled his sweatshirt off one arm at a time. That left him in a plain white shirt, dampened with sweat and see through. He looked so hot to me in that moment, I couldn’t wait to get to a bed. Black hair ruffled and damp with sweat. Tattooed arms dark against his sweat-soaked, now see-through shirt. He already looked younger. Not a cop, but an artist in a new land. Even the green in his eyes looked brighter somehow.
“Beaches all around you, and you’re staring at me?” He quirked a brow my way and his lips lifted in one corner.
Blushing was so not my style, but I couldn’t help the heat in my cheeks. “Loser.” I crossed my arms over my chest and exchanged his handsome entirety for my window instead. He was right. The beach traced the road, stretched out before me, endless blue.
How was this possible? I peeked at him to find his eyes on the water too. Trixie was on his lap, panting out of his window.
Love was such a flagrant tease.
My cell rang in my purse. Then Brando’s hummed in his back pocket. We both took our phones out and turned them off.
Family or not, my journey to magic could not be swayed.
“Almost there,” the driver said, turning away from the road and taking the turn off into the city. It wasn’t as crowded as I pictured, and the stretches of beach I saw weren’t covered in bikini-clad bodies. He took two turns and then drove a little uphill, stopping outside of a sign that said Vacation Inn and Hostel. “Cheap, five-minute walk to the beach. I did good, ay?” He grinned over his shoulder at me.
“Hostel, huh?” I frowned at the shack-like structure. I’d seen the movie and wasn’t impressed.
“Yes, thank you. Keep the change.” Brando palmed some cash from his wallet and dropped it in the driver’s hand.
“Aloha,” he said brightly, counting the cash eagerly.
I grabbed the bags as he wrangled Trixie. There was a flock of birds on the picnic benches out front and she was doing her best to wreak havoc, her three legs all she needed.
I admired Trixie. Wanted to be more like her. To run on my three legs and chase the birds, smile at the wind on my face. As it was, I tossed and turned in the gust.
And the howl of the roar through my empty parts was starting to wear on me.
The hostel was more than happy to take us in. The clerk showed us to the community kitchen, living room, and our private bedroom. There were no walls, only mesh blinds—to keep the mosquitoes out—and a single full bed frame made out of bamboo shoots. At least the sheets looked clean-ish.
“Welcome to paradise,” Brando announced, dropping his things, and himself, on to the bed. From his position, he looked up at me with unguarded eyes. “Feels like everything’s going to change on this trip.”
I came close, staring down at him as the heat of the day stuck the hair at the nape of my neck to my skin. “As long as we don’t.”
He reached for me. When I gave him my hand, he pulled me down on the bed beside him. I curled up on his side and our sweat-slicked skin stuck where it touched. From our position, I could see the jungle-like trees behind the hostel, and the sounds of the city and the faint crash of waves in the distance. Already felt like magic. I closed my eyes in wonder and pressed my face into his chest.
“Let’s get some breakfast,” he suggested, kissing my hair.
I didn’t know why, but Brando felt more … mine.
I changed into a lightweight white shirt with fall over the edge of wonder spray painted on the front, and rolled up the sleeves, putting my hair in a bun. When we made it outside, Brando took hold of my hand and threaded our fingers together. I wasn’t a hand holder, didn’t think he was either, but it didn’t feel so unlike us in that moment. It felt like holding on to every part of us that struggled to stay connected.
I wanted to say something, but the silence coming from him didn’t feel like it wanted to be popped. I let him lead me instead. Gave him a shred of control. The Hawaiian barbecue restaurant he picked was two streets over, farther inland. It was hotter inside. We settled at a booth and grabbed our menus. I studied the locals dripping sweat and eating spam musubi.
Brando ordered enough food for three people. To keep him company, I did the same.
“If I get fat, it’s your fault,” I warned, tearing open my straw and plunging it into my orange soda. I pulled in a sweet drag, watching him roll his eyes as he did the same to his lemon water.
“If you get fat, I’ll be sure to get the clerk at the hostel to give us a bigger bed.” He grinned.
I contemplated smacking him, and then decided against it. “Where will you sleep?”
“Cat, relax. Breathe. We both need to breathe. I haven’t taken a breath that didn’t hurt in so long, I forgot what it feels like.”
I didn’t think he was talking solely about his lungs. “Me too,” I admitted. “Okay, let’s have fun. First off, six thousand calories. Next, naked cartwheels.”
“I hope those naked cartwheels happen before you get fat.” He tried to hold it in when I glared, but he couldn’t help himself, snickering like a handsome asshat.
And damn it, the sight of him laughing pulled the same from me. I covered my hand with my mouth. “Brando. You’re supposed to say something ultra-supportive. Not be a dick.”
His smile thinned. “Like what? I’d love you no matter what happened to your incredible body? That it would be incredible in any size?”
I didn’t think he realized his mistake. “Yes.”
“Thought that was a given. Didn’t think I had to say it too,” he said.
He loved me. It felt like someone punched through my sternum and ripped out my heart, holding it over Brando’s head. I could jump and scream for it, but in all reality, I didn’t want it back. My heart was his too. And love, it seemed, went both ways.
Our food arrived, and soon our table overflowed with grilled chicken, spam musubi, and macaroni salad; steamed rice, kalua pork, and chicken katsu. We didn’t talk. We picked up our forks and ate, occasionally catching each other’s gaze. Every time, my stomach flipped. This trip was my chance to feel without fearing. His chance to forget that he’d almost given his life for a safe.
Or that he’d left it behind for me.
I wondered if he knew, if it was a niggling thought in the back of his head.
That I was here and his safe was not. I wanted to mean as much to him as that safe. To be worth everything inside. And now that we were so far away from it, I ached to know what was inside. What I was competing with.
After lunch, we returned to the road, returned to holding hands. We continued through the streets and ended up on the main road that traced the ocean. Considering it was a weekday in November, the beach was free of people. The waves rolled in, crashing to shore. We paused to take our shoes off near the sand, and then made our way to the shore. The warm wet sand depressed between my toes. The water was cerulean blue, and the waves choppy; but enchantment was thick in the air.
I took a deep breath.
“Storm’s coming,” he murmured, pointing out to the horizon.
That’s okay, I thought. We’ll brave it. I grabbed his hand.
It did come, creeping onto shore like a monster. The blue turned gray and the white turned black. As everyone ran for cover, Brando and I peeled our clothes off, leaving us in our underwear as we ran for the water, our hands clasped. We dove beneath the waves together. When I came up, the sky was a swirling, churning being and the waves high. But Brando was smiling, so comfortable inside this storm.
I wondered if that’s how it would be for us. Seeking storms and fighting through. Our lives were the same way. The good came when the storm ended. Secretly we looked forward to that. And maybe a day when the storms ebbed. But for now, we swam in the middle of it, until we couldn’t walk, until it was hard to breathe, until the salt of the ocean burned.
Until the storm was too strong.
We crawled from the water, and our eyes met. His were burning. My heart pounded. The want was as thick in the air between us as the electricity of the storm.
I attacked his mouth with a ferocity I’d never felt before. And he matched it. Going kiss for kiss, stronger than my weak, bigger than my fears.
He tasted of the ocean, salty and rich. I knew I tasted the same. That as we tasted each other, we also tasted ourselves. I ran my hands over his body, unafraid of the bullet wounds, infatuated by the ink.
We grabbed our sodden clothes and made a run for the hostel, pausing along the way to taste the other’s lips. When we got to our room, we dropped our wet clothes on the ground and we forged.
I ran my fingers through his wet locks. His hands moved down to cradle my ass. Our tongues met, hot, silky, and wet. I tasted every inch of him as he tried to siphon the taste out of me. He urged us back to the bed. I had a moment of panic. Men didn’t go on top. I went on top. But I knew in my soul that Brando would never hurt me. Brando was a good man, like Klay, and it was okay for me to start trusting them again.
I fell on my back. He followed, attacking my mouth once more. We were soaking wet and where we touched was slick. His hips settled between my legs and his hands cradled my face as he kissed the bottom of my soul out of me. I kissed him back, just as deep; we exchanged souls.
And it was magic.
I struggled to push his boxer briefs down his ass. They were stuck to him like glue. His hard cock teased my pussy through wet material. I wanted to feel him. All of him. I wanted him to take all of me too.
He reached down between us and grabbed the material of my panties, and then he ripped them free, pulling the scraps from my body and throwing them away. I smiled against his mouth. That was impressive. He didn’t smile back. He kissed me even harder, tangling his tongue with mine.
I managed to free his boxers in a much less fancy way, and he kicked them free. He reached down to find my pussy. He parted my slick folds, stroking a long trail from my damp entrance to my sensitive clit. I moaned against his kiss, unable to break, unable to breathe. His fingertip teased my opening, rubbing over the wet flesh there tenderly, like he knew the lightest touch would drench me.
My pussy clenched in delicious anticipation. We were so close to having what we wanted. All of him. He worked one finger into me slowly, and then another. Unhurried at first, so slow as he got my inner muscles used to being full. I’d never been with a man who had a cock as large as Brando’s. I appreciated that he warmed me up. That he could see through his lust and still worried about me. It was heady, to be cared for and wanted in the same moment. They hardly ever went hand in hand for me.
He stroked my aching inner muscles as his tongue tortured me. When my thighs tightened in preparation for my orgasm, he pulled his fingers out. He braced his hands on either side of my head and looked down into my eyes. His shimmered, alight with lust and hunger. He looked so beautiful to me in that moment. So alive. I wanted him to be that alive all the time.
The tip of his cock eased between my slick folds and pressed against my opening. His tip alone was much wider than most, and I moaned, so ready for him to take me to that beautiful chaotic edge of pain and pleasure. He eased in more; I grabbed hold of his biceps. And then he kissed me, long and deep, before he thrusted into me fully.
My mouth opened in a gasp. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. My lower belly clenched and my blood flooded with madness. It felt like he’d touched parts of me no other man had touched. Parts of me that were only meant for him. He rocked into me in the most perfect way, rolling his hips as he kissed the bottom out of me. My pussy clenched around him, senseless from the sensations coming from his cock.
I’d never felt anything this good, this damaging.
My demons prepared for battle, but I didn’t care. I danced around them, reaching down to press my nails into his ass. I wanted it deeper, harder, I wanted the beauty of us to rain down on me. His hips picked up speed, and I succumbed to the good. I moaned unhindered, shoving my face into his neck as the storm outside raged, and the storm inside enveloped us both.
He was so much male. Heavy, hot, his sweat-slicked skin sliding over mine. And the smell. He smelled like everything good I’d ever wanted. Sweat, cologne, and salt—I inhaled him into my lungs and exhaled pleasure. My senses were in a whirlwind. My core quivered around his thick length, so much of him inside of me. His teeth nipped at my throat, shoulder, surely leaving behind marks on my skin. I wanted them. Forever marks. My warm excitement made his cock slick, allowing him to penetrate me deeper than any man had gone before. The grunts of pleasure sounding from his lips were a soundtrack I wanted to play on repeat.
And that was all good.
That was all amazing.
But nothing compared to the feeling of knowing he felt the same. The overwhelming crash of our hips meeting, the pool of heat and filth burning where we were connected. That wasn’t sex.
It wasn’t even love.
That was need. Hot, searing need. I needed him. He needed me. A bolt of pleasure rained down on me, and every time his bristly pubic hair brushed over my sensitive clit, I trembled.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. I could hear the bewilderment in his voice. He couldn’t believe how perfect it was either. “So tight. So wet.” He breathed through gritted teeth. “So fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Tell me.”
I moaned, on the edge of an orgasm I knew was going to rip me apart. “I’m yours, Brando. I’m so yours.”
“Mine,” he growled, pounding into me. Breaking me.
Putting me back together.
The tingle of my orgasm started right where the crown of his cock stroked. He rubbed against that aching hungry spot in me repeatedly, and the hunger grew, gripping my body in its fist. It got stronger, sending a burst of fire to my core. I heard him cuss when the flood of my excitement drenched him, catapulting me into a sublime state of mind I didn’t even know I possessed.
He fucked me harder. Deeper, biting down on my shoulder so hard I cried out in ecstasy. My eyesight wavered, and light shimmered in the edge of the darkness like a rainbow in the middle of heavy rainfall. It was beautiful and destroying, and it was so incredibly perfect.
I heard the words tumble out of my mouth a second before I came violently. “I love you,” I gasped, arching in his arms. My body seized and pleasure radiated from my pussy, from his cock, from his rough, brutal thrusts, and his hard, strong body. It was the most intense orgasm of my life. Reparative.
Transformative.
He cried out as the flood of his end filled me. His body tightened and he lost control of his mouth too. “Stay with me.”
My mind disintegrated. I was aware of nothing, but the life in my heart and the aftershocks as his cock twitched inside of me.
I tried to find them—they were always there—but I couldn’t hear them.
My demons were quiet for the first time in my entire life.
And my fears lay in shambles, much like me.
My body ached in the morning.
The rain outside our room was in direct contrast to the sticky, muggy heat. I wore nothing, wrapped in his arms and sprawled across his tattooed, wounded chest. I kissed one wound, barely a soft scar, and another, and another. I continued down, trailing my tongue over his ink and tasting his story. I tasted each ridge in his abdomen, savoring his six-pack. Beneath me, he hummed.
I rubbed my cheek against his happy trail, mewling like a cat at the salty taste of his coarse hairs. His cock was hard when I got down his pelvic bones. His hands were bunched into fists in the sheets, and his eyes were closed. It was a strange picture of peace. At least for him.
I started on his balls first, spending a long time loving them. I took them one at a time into my mouth and sucked them between my lips, twirling my tongue around his soft hairy sack. My tongue skated between them and up to the base of his shaft. I massaged his balls as I licked there, nipping at him with my teeth.
He jerked. “Shit, Cat.”
“Your cock tastes so good,” I purred, licking up his shaft like it was the best damn lollipop in the world. “Don’t come in my mouth,” I warned, trying to keep it lighthearted. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he breathed, reaching down to cup my cheek. “Look at me,” he begged softly. My eyes fluttered up to meet his. “We’ll never do anything you don’t want to do. If it ever makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. Got it?” I nodded mechanically, stuck on the tenderness in his eyes. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Now put my cock back in your mouth.”
I did, taking him into the back of my throat. He hissed and his hand curled into a fist around my hair. I loved the pull of pain on my scalp and the knowledge that I was taking him to the edge of the cliff and throwing him over. Only thing was, I’d follow. I sucked the tip of his cock into my mouth and sucked. A bead of precum melted against my tongue, but I let it slide, finding the taste to be rich and tangy. I hated semen. But in that moment, I almost wondered what it would be like to swallow his load. I’d never done it.
“Cat, baby. I’m going to come.” He tugged on my hair, driving himself deeper into my throat with two more thrusts before he pulled me off him and grabbed for his cock.
I knocked his hands away. “I’ll take care of you.” I wrapped my hands around his shaft and pumped.
I’d never seen him lose his mind. His writhing, tattooed body contorted in the sheets. He looked beautiful, mouth agape in agony, eyes barely open. Fists bunched on his thighs. He shouted out my name as his orgasm gripped his body and his end shot across my breasts. I hated how much I hated it, I hated that no matter what I did, that even in the middle of such beauty, there was memories I didn’t want. But I forged through. Brando made things safe. Brando made me sure that he would replace that horrible memory with something special.
“You’re amazing.” His body sagged.
I grabbed my wet shirt off the floor and wiped my chest and hands off. Then I crawled over his body and straddled him. It was like he was ready for me. His lips met mine and his hands encircled me. And we kissed, we kissed until he was hard again, until my fears were replaced with love. He positioned his cock at the head of my opening. I sank down onto him slowly, inch by inch. He was so thick in this position, and though I tried to take him all, the burning tightness was too much to take on my own.
I planted my hands on his chest and met his eyes, circling my hips. He put his hands behind his head and watched me intently, letting me create my own pleasure with his body. I appreciated the control he gave me. I bit back the tears, but they were hard to ignore.
I fucking loved him.
There was no more fighting it. No more fearing it.
There was only fearing me.
I came all over his cock, the slickness of my orgasm making it easier to take him. I fell across his chest and panted.
“Things will be hard, Cat. But they’re not as hard when we’re together.” He kissed my hair. “I can’t breathe, honey.”
“Oh!” I rolled off his chest and curled up on his side, giving him a sleepy, apologetic smile. “Want me to get your pills?”
He tried to hide his pain with a smile, but I saw it on the edge of his eyes. He’d endured it for me. “Please?”
I kneeled naked and sifted through his bag. When he tried to get up, I shoved him back down. “We aren’t done. We’re far from done.”
He quirked a brow at me. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” I curled up on his side and kissed the side of his face all over. His temple, his earlobe, his jaw. I kissed every inch of his scar. “What’s the scar from, Brando?”
His entire body sagged. I felt one of his walls crumble when his muscles relaxed into me. “Retaliation.”
“For what?”
He looked away. “My father was a bad man, Cat. He did bad things. Bad things found him in return. Only those bad things tried to kill my entire family. I was the only one who survived.”
Horror burst through our love bubble. “Wait, what? Someone tried to kill your entire family?”
“Not tried. They did.”
I shook my head. That didn’t make sense. But didn’t it? He had no family. No one at the hospital. No one in his life. “What happened?”
His eyes, which had been so alive with love a moment ago, had gone cold. “You don’t want this shit in your head, trust me.”
“If it’s in your head, I want it in mine too.” I cupped his cheek. “Please tell me. Tell me so you’re not alone.”
“Telling you won’t change anything. Telling you will only taint you.” His eyes pled with mine. “You’re so good. You’re the only good I have. I don’t want to taint you.”
He hadn’t been trying to protect me. He’d been trying to preserve me. He knew I’d ask these questions one day. He knew the truth would catch up and find him. He knew that I would know and knowing meant he had to admit he still knew it too.
I could feel the darkness in him. It was too dark to fix in that moment, too large for a single conversation. I let it go for fear I’d lose him to the pain. “Okay,” I soothed. “Okay. Forget I asked. But I want you to know this. You can’t taint me, Brando. You revive me.”
His eyes closed in misery and he gave me a sad smile. “Tell me again.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you love me.”
I kissed his sad smile, giving him one of my own. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Instantly. From the moment I met you, I knew you would be the poison in our twisted love story. I knew you’d knock me down on my ass. I knew you’d feed my demons. I knew you’d make me happy. I knew you’d break me. I knew you’d be the only one for me. Maybe that’s why I fought it. Because there was no fighting something that huge.”
He crushed his lips to mine. That kiss wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t passionate. It was rough, brutal—it was real. What we both needed right then.
“I almost got raped again the other night,” I revealed in a heartbroken string of mumbled words.
He pulled back sharply, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “What are you talking about?”
I told him about the other night, and I wished I hadn’t. He fought my hold and pulled on his boxers. Then he found his phone and left out the back door, making calls that would bring hellfire down on the man who attacked me.
I sighed, falling back to the bed. When he returned, he glared at me. “Why didn’t you tell me before we left?”
“Because you’d kill him,” I said simply.
He didn’t even deny it. He glared. His mussed hair was doing things to me. I stretched my naked body out on the bed, hungry for him once more. “You know the interesting thing about birth control?”
His eyes followed my movements. Dark lust swirled in his eyes. “What?”
“You can have sex over and over again.”
“That is interesting. It would be even more interesting if you got on your hands and knees and gave me your pussy.”
Heat pooled between my legs. He wouldn’t be nice about this next round. He looked like a beast, bad and angry. I knew he’d take his fear and anger out on my body. And I couldn’t wait. I pushed to my hands and knees and backed up to the edge of the bed, giving him my pussy from behind.
He grabbed hold of my hips and dragged me back roughly against him. He didn’t warm me up. Didn’t ease me into it. He plunged into me from behind, and then he systematically fucked my brains out, screwing me like he’d never see me again, like I wasn’t going to stick around, like I’d been attacked and he hadn’t been there to protect me. His strong hands on my hips were comforting. I came all over his cock, screaming and slobbering, a mess of dark and sated.
He fell on to my back when he finished inside of me once more. I was full of him. His heavy breath sounded in my ear.
What’s in the safe? I ached to ask. What was more important than you? Instead, I reached blindly behind me and stroked the back of his head.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
I smiled into the sheets. “I love you.”
“I haven’t heard anyone say that to me since I was thirteen,” he revealed, lifting off me and rolling onto his back. “I need food and water.”
I needed him. My heart hurt for him. But it also understood. “The first person to say that to me was Klay and Madi.”
His eyes shot to mine. “You’re kidding.”
“Mmm mmm. Not kidding.” I tucked my hands under my chin.
“Tell me about it?” he asked, eyes soft.
“About my childhood?”
He brushed my hair behind my ear and held the end of my jaw between his thumb and index finger. “Yes.”
“Not much to tell.” I kissed his inner wrist, unable to get enough of him. “It was an empty mansion, pretty dresses I didn’t like, and this pit of emptiness in my little heart that never went away. I went to private school. So I was away for long periods of time, especially in high school.”
“What made you run away? Everything? Or did something happen?”
I swallowed hard and fought to maintain eye contact. “Men suck,” I explained away. “You and Klay are the only two good ones I’ve ever met.”
“What happened, baby?” His thumb continued to stroke me.
“My dad was an investment banker. One of his clients was over one day. I had just turned fourteen. I had my school uniform on and I was heading up to my room to do homework. He cornered me in the hall. He put his hand up my skirt and tried to kiss me. Mr. Wallace. I kneed him in the balls and ran to my bedroom. He got to my father first. Told him a lie that I came on to him. When I told my dad what happened, that he’d tried to touch me, my father slapped me and sent me to my room. He blamed me for being touched. It fucked with my head.” Even after all that time, my anger still burned for my father. “I flipped out. I packed my backpack and took off. I did my best to get by, and I liked it. At first anyway. Things were hard, but it was real, you know? I was hungry, but I felt my hunger. I was alone, but I understood it. I was afraid, but it made sense. I hooked up with boys, soaking up their attention. I drank, got high—I lived the only way I knew how. And then I met …” I closed my eyes in acute pain. “Daryl. He was older, cooler. He sucked me into his trap. We spent every day together for a couple weeks. I thought I was in love.” I cried through my heartbroken smile. “And then he took me back to his place and we started kissing. The thing was, I was still a virgin. I kissed and maybe I let boys touch me, but I hadn’t had sex yet. I told Daryl no. He kept going. He wouldn’t stop. And when I started begging him to get off me, his eyes met mine and he told me to shut up. His eyes were cold, and I knew, I knew he’d done everything to get me where I was now. On his bed and in his trap. He stuffed a dirty sock on the floor into my mouth and he ripped my jeans and panties off and he raped me. I fought as hard as I could, so he tied my hands together and held them down. I tried using my legs, but the harder I fought, the more he seemed to like it. He raped me four times that night. Then he punched me until I passed out. When I woke up, blood and semen dripped out of me—I hate semen—and I was … broken. I don’t know how else to describe it. I was empty, shattered. I didn’t know what to do. I heard him in the house. I knew that if I didn’t get out, he’d do it again. I put my jeans back on and left out of his window. I tried to survive after that. It was hard, Brando. I was hungry again, but I didn’t like it. I was alone, and I missed my family, but I knew my family didn’t miss me. I was afraid, and there was nothing good about it. I hated myself for running away. I hated my father for putting me in that position. I hated men. I hated everyone. I contemplated doing things that today make me shudder. And when I thought I’d do those things, when I thought I was never going to be anything more but a broken rape victim, I met Klayton, and my world finally came into focus.” I sobbed against Brando, the second man I’d ever trusted in my entire life.
He held me to his chest and wrapped me in his arms. I didn’t need the support now, that wasn’t why it felt so good. It felt good because I knew how beautiful it was to even have the strength to be in a man’s arms.
“What’s in the safe, Brando?”
He took a deep, pained breath. “Everything I have left.”
I waited for him to keep going.
“A rival gang wanted revenge on my father. Two men broke into our house at two in the morning. They shot my father in the garage. He hung out there a lot. Kenny was asleep in his bed. He was my brother. He was only nine. They killed him in his sleep. They did the same thing to Mom. I heard them, Cat. My bedroom was in the basement. The only window out was nailed shut. Mom had done it. To keep me from sneaking out at night. The first shot woke me up. I lay in bed, trying to understand what I heard. I heard the second shot. And I ran upstairs in time to see the third one. I ran. They chased me. I fought them. I was huge at thirteen, twice the size of other teenage boys. And I’d just heard and watched them kill the only people I loved. I fought them. Both. With everything I had. I knocked their guns out of their hands. We went fist to fist, but there were two of them and one of me. One grabbed me around the back and brought the blade to my throat and drug it over my jugular vein. I managed to get my elbow into his side, he only managed to cut my left artery before the sirens started. They took off, leaving me alive. I crawled, spewing blood from my neck, to my mother’s room. To my brother’s room. To the garage. Checking for pulses. And not finding one.”
I stared at him in horror. He had to be kidding. I waited for him to take it back. Ha ha, he’d laugh, I’m just kidding. But the pain in his eyes was disgusting and deep. He’d been through hell and he wasn’t kidding. I didn’t even know what to say. I put my hand on his heart, his broken heart.
“After I got out of the hospital, I went to live with my aunt in Denver. The only thing I could think to do was to pretend. To be someone else. My father was a lost soul doing the best he could with the bad he had. He loved art, taught me how to draw. I told the truth by getting the tats and then I wore nice clothes to hide them. I became a cop so nothing like that would ever happen to me. I became a detective to solve crimes because my crime was never solved. And then Madison happened, and the bodies, and I couldn’t go back there. But then you happened, you happened, Cat, and I don’t understand anything at all but you.”
It was my turn to hold him. I brought his head to my chest and kissed the top of it, trying and failing to picture the horrors he’d lived through. Love was probably so hard for him. To love was dangerous. To want was scary. I held him tighter.
“So the reason there was no family at the hospital was because there is no family. What about your aunt?”
“She and I don’t talk. She kicked me out at fourteen. We never talked again.”
I brought his face close and kissed him tenderly. I wanted to love him. He hadn’t been loved in so long, my heart ached to give it to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“No, Cat. Thank you.” He smothered me with a kiss.
That kiss was different too. Gentle, soft, and safe.
I poured every ounce of love I had in me into my lips. He moaned, threading his fingers through my hair. He settled between my legs and I opened them for him. He made love to me tenderly, rocking into me with the same rhythm of a wave. It was a slow burn of love and pain. I kissed him as hard as I could, and he made love to me as softly as he could. We came together, moaning together and falling together.
I promised myself then that demons could be temporary. A flash of pain that stuck around too long.
That love had to win.
Hard or painful.
It had to win.