Epilogue
Malik
“ What the fuck is that?” I asked as Rurik accepted a package from the UPS driver. When the driver had buzzed the gate, we’d all been confused as fuck because none of us ordered anything online. If we needed something, we got it from the store. And if the store didn’t have it… well, we just didn’t need it.
Having the UPS driver show up at the gate had Hyram ready to put the whole place on lockdown. He’d thought the Savage Dreams MC had sent someone to either blow us all to pieces or shoot us all.
But nope. My fucking fiancé had ordered something because he was just the kind of man who shopped online.
“We don’t get shit delivered here,” Hyram growled at Rurik when Rurik drew closer, his stress levels through the roof. I could probably place money that if he were to take his blood pressure right then, it’d be sky fucking high. “Get a fucking box at the post office if you want shit delivered.”
“UPS and FedEx don’t deliver to post office boxes,” Rurik told him in a duh tone. “Chill out. You think I’d let anyone come close enough to Malik again?”
Yeah… several months later and Rurik still hadn’t chilled out on his overprotectiveness and his possessiveness of me. I was healed and was finishing up physical therapy. Things had been eerily quiet lately. Rurik’s viruses had taken root not long after he planted them in Safe Dreams, and nothing had happened since.
He kept telling us to be patient, that retaliation would come, but quite frankly, I didn’t have patience. Hyram was the most patient out of all of us, and even his patience was wearing thin.
Hyram scowled. “At least clear shit with me before you go ordering shit and having it delivered here, Rurik.” With that, he turned on his heel and stormed inside, muttering something about needing a drink.
“So, what’s that?” I asked again, jerking my chin in the direction of the brown cardboard box in his hands.
“Tattoo supplies,” Rurik said as we began walking into the clubhouse.
I arched a brow at him. “Tattoo supplies?” I pushed open the front door to the clubhouse, letting him in before me. The door shut behind me with a quiet shnick as he nodded his head, heading for the staircase. I followed him, nervousness filling my gut. “Why the fuck do you need tattoo supplies, Rurik?” I demanded. He never ordered shit like that unless it had something to do with me.
He opened our apartment door, then turned to walk backward, smirking at me. “What do you think, baby?”
I scowled at him. He had to be fucking kidding me. “You are not tattooing me,” I growled. He’d already made me his fiancé, pierced my ear, had a tracker on me, and kept this chain around my neck. We both already knew as soon as he said so, we’d be at the courthouse tying ourselves together for life.
Now he wanted to ink my skin?
I shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. But for some reason, I was. The man was just unhinged when it came to me. I both loved and hated it.
“You’ve got some time to come around to the idea,” he assured me. “I’m going to practice on fake skin before I tattoo you. I wouldn’t just jump into tattooing you without some kind of practice, Malik. I need what I put into your skin to be perfect . I refuse to damage what’s mine.”
I scowled. “That doesn’t make this any better, Rurik,” I snapped, refusing to focus on the mine part of his whole wild ass idea. “What the fuck are you even going to tattoo on me? And where are you tattooing me? Because if it’s my dick?—”
“Not your dick,” he assured me. I blew out a soft breath of relief. Thank fuck .
He set the box on the desk he’d had moved into my office so he could work comfortably and not have to be downstairs with the rest of the guys. “If I tattoo your dick, that requires recovery time for you that I frankly don’t have the patience for.”
“Then where?” I snapped.
He beckoned me closer. Blowing out a harsh breath, I walked forward until I was standing right in front of him. He and I both knew I couldn’t truly deny him of anything. We both knew if he did actually want to ink my dick, I’d let him. I’d bitch about it for sure, but I’d let him.
Wasn’t much I wouldn’t let him do, honestly. Which was a terrifying thing to acknowledge about myself. He had me so tightly wrapped around his finger, I couldn’t fucking breathe without him.
He grabbed my hand and ran the pad of his index finger along the back of my hand. “I’m going to put my first name here,” he said. He grabbed my other hand, stroking the back of it as well. “Then, I’m going to put the date you took out that guard and fucking ensnared me here.” I swallowed thickly when his hand lifted and he wrapped it around my throat. “And then, I’m putting our last name here.”
“I’m still a Carter,” I rasped.
He smirked. “For now,” he acknowledged. “Not for long though.” He pressed our mouths together in a slow, hot kiss that wreaked havoc on my senses. “Don’t get all twisted up about it,” he said as he grabbed my switch blade where it was hooked in my back pocket. I watched as he began opening the box. He handed me the blade back, and silently, I closed it and clipped it back onto my pocket. “I think you’ll like it.”
I glowered at him. “You think a lot of things,” I muttered, but I couldn’t deny that I was hard at the thought of his claim on me being so blatant and obvious. The man had fucked me up, and… goddammit, I wasn’t even truly angry about it.
He smirked and raked his eyes over me. “And I’m usually right.”
I just scoffed before turning on my heel, heading for the door. “I’m going to get dinner. You want anything specific?”
“No,” he told me. “But make sure you take one of the other guys with you.”
I sighed. Here we went with his overbearing, alpha, possessive shit. “I’m safe, Rurik,” I assured him as I pulled the door open.
“Take someone with you,” he repeated, his tone dropping an octave. It was a sign of finality. He wouldn’t argue about this, and if I tried, he’d quickly put me on my knees and abuse my throat with his cock until it hurt to talk.
Been there, done that.
I rolled my eyes. “What the fuck ever,” I muttered.
“That’s my good boy,” he praised.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, then adjusted my dick in my jeans when I hardened from that damn ‘good boy’ shit. His snicker followed me out the door before he called, “Love you, baby. Be safe.”
My heart skipped a beat at his words, just like they always did. Sometimes, it was hard to believe a man as unhinged as Rurik could love anyone, much less me. I wasn’t even sure if he knew what that word actually meant. But I knew he loved me in the only ways he knew how.
Possessively. Obsessively.
“Love you, too,” I told him before I headed down the stairs.