Chapter 13 #2
Monroe stops, squatting down to look at some pretty yellow flowers similar to the ones in front of her house, and I can’t take it a moment longer.
I have to have her. I have to take her as my own.
I know a man like me doesn’t deserve a woman like her.
But I can’t fight the call to her. Maybe her light and love can snuff out some of my darkness and hate.
I snort at the thought. There’s no saving me.
But that’s not going to stop me from being with her.
I flick out my cigarette, then I rev up my bike, letting the engine purr under me, the smell of gasoline filling the air.
I pull out of the alley and drive slowly up the road.
Monroe pauses as I pull over, turning to look at me.
All the air is sucked from my lungs, the world itself blurring except for this ethereal goddess standing in front of me.
From my seat on my bike, we’re eye to eye.
She really is a tiny little thing. So fragile.
The sun glows behind her, turning her into my own personal beacon.
She’s perfect. She’s everything. Her face lights up when she sees me, the blues of her eyes shining just a little brighter as they meet my own.
Her delicate little fingers tuck her hair behind her ears, and she has the nerve to look sheepish.
In front of me. A demon. A reaper. A murderer.
“Crew.” My name on her lips is the sweetest sound. I never had a name while growing up, never gave much thought to why or that I needed one. I was John Doe up until Jesse brought me to the clubhouse.
“What’s your name, kid?” the president, Queenie, asks. I go to open my mouth, but Jesse claps me on the back as we step up to the truck to climb in. I clench the leather vest tight in my grip. It’s the first thing someone’s ever given me, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“Crew. His name is Crew.” I look at Jesse and narrow my eyes.
My name is John. At least, that’s what the police started calling me.
“Everyone needs a name that suits them. No offense, but you’re not a John.
You’re part of our crew here. You’re a part of something now.
Something bigger than you, bigger than me. You’ve got a family now, Crew.”
“Why are you walking? Don’t you have a car?”
Monroe’s smile grows, filling her face. “It’s a beautiful day, why would I drive when I can walk?
” She didn’t answer my question, though.
I turn my bike off, toeing the kickstand down, and climb off.
I tower over her now, and I wish I didn’t.
I feel bad she has to arch her neck to look up at me, but when she does, I nearly melt at her feet. “Going to walk with me, Crew?”
I shove my hands into my pockets, so I don’t do something like reach out and touch her.
“If that’s okay with you. Where are you headed?”
“Between the Notes.”
My eyebrows raise. “The music store?”
“That is what Between the Notes is,” she laughs. “Have you ever been?”
“Can’t stay that I’ve ever needed to. Do you play something?”
“The piano. I fell in love with it a long time ago and taught myself to play.” Of course she does. I bet she has so many more incredible hidden talents that I’ve yet to discover. Unlike me, whose only talents are the different ways I can kill someone or dismember a body.
“You really play the piano?”
“Why do you seem so shocked by that admission, Crew?”
“You’ve got it wrong, pixie, it’s amazement, not shock.”
Monroe stops walking and turns to look up at me, her pretty sky-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
“Pixie?” Shit. I’ve already gone and fucked this up.
I trace the freckles that dust the bridge of her nose with my eyes, tapping against my thigh with my left hand.
Then, without thinking, I run the back of my pointer finger down the bridge of her nose.
Sparks fly between us, an electrical current surging. My heart rate speeds up, and my eyes flick to the pulse point at her neck. The way it rapidly pumps the blood flowing through her body makes my dick wake up.
“Yeah, pixie. You remind me of a fairy. Like you were carved out of light instead of darkness. You’re radiant and so full of life. Beautiful and charming. Something not of this world. Plus, you’re a tiny sprite of a thing, especially compared to me.”
Her eyes seem to twinkle, her teeth capturing her bottom lip between them. “Well, that’s a smooth answer. But you do know that pixies are notorious for being mischievous troublemakers, right?”
“If you only knew the trouble you started, pixie, then you would understand how much it suits you.”
Monroe’s cheeks flame with pink, and if even possible, the freckles on her cheeks bloom and brighten.
I’m itching to trace over each of them. This girl is so pretty it hurts.
She bumps me playfully with her shoulder before turning and continuing her walk up the cobblestone sidewalk of Main Street.
We walk in silence, the hustle and bustle of the town moving around us, until reaching Between the Notes, and I don’t understand why I’m not itching to crawl out of my skin.
I hate the noise of downtown. But with Monroe?
Every cell in my body seems to breathe for her, and the noise is comfortable.
A bell chimes overhead as I open the door for us, and as Monroe walks in front of me and into the cool air-conditioned building, I don’t hold back from getting my fill of her backside. Fuck, she’s hot. And smart. And talented. And witty. And way too fucking nice to willingly accept my company.
I follow her inside like a lost puppy, and I wonder how she’d feel if I dropped to my knees and asked her to parade me around on a leash. She owns me, anyway. I’ll beg for anything she’ll give me.
The cool air is a welcome reprieve from the outside heat, and Monroe rubs the back of her neck like she’s also grateful for it. I stay a few feet back, just watching as she walks up an aisle and flips through books of sheet music.
She truly is stunning. I lean my shoulder against a large beam and pull out my phone, pretending to look at something on it, but I’m really snapping photos of her. She doesn’t seem to notice, lost in the little world she’s created right now. I could watch her forever.
Her nails are painted pearly white, short and square, and I focus on them as she flips through the different plastic books. I’m lost in the image of her until I hear footsteps coming closer. My spine straightens, but I don’t step forward.
A man not much older than Monroe steps into her space, a little too close for my liking.
Hell, I don’t want anyone near her at all.
His jeans are cuffed at the bottom, his shirt tucked into a pair of dark pants, with suspenders.
Suspenders. His hair is styled in some complicated slicked-back bullshit I wouldn’t be able to do with mine with a pound of product, if I wanted to look like a total douchebag.
I stay silent, ever the ghost, and watch as he speaks to her. Monroe takes a step back from him, but he matches it. My head cocks to the side as I watch her demeanor change.
I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
He doesn’t seem to notice that she keeps shifting her weight, or that her shoulders are tight, but I do.
He leans into her space, his voice not loud enough for me to make out what he’s saying.
She takes another step back, but he mirrors her, closing the space between them again.
My molars grind, and I quickly snap a photo of him just as Monroe glances around the room, a quick flick of her eyes that says she’s looking for something.
For me. My chest tightens. I pocket my phone and take several steps toward them, done watching him make her uncomfortable.
I’m the only one who has the right to do that, and only because she likes it when I do it. Even if she doesn’t know it’s me yet.
When dipshit finally notices me, his eyes widen, his arm slowly reaching out for Monroe.
As if he could protect her from me. As if I could even fathom harming her.
I walk right up behind her, and I swear to the devil himself, her body relaxes.
We aren’t touching, but we’re close enough that I can feel the body heat radiating off her on my chest.
I wonder how she’d feel if I flipped up her dress, bent her over the shelf, and ate out her pussy right here.
Then maybe he’d understand that she’s mine.
My cock gives a good kick behind my jeans.
It’s been hard since the moment I saw her, and with how she affects me, there’s no chance of it going down anytime soon.
“Roe?” he says her name like he has any right to.
Monroe looks up at me, her pretty blue eyes my only focus.
When she breaks our eye contact and turns back to him, he seems to get the hint.
“Be careful, Roe. I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but be careful.
” Ballsy little asshole, isn’t he? He retreats, probably understanding that he wasn’t going to survive facing off with me, especially when it comes to her.
“Who was that?” I ask, taking a deep inhale of her delicate scent. She smells like pure sunshine, coconuts, and citrus, bright and perfectly her.
“Hmm?”
“Who was that man? He seemed very familiar with you.”
“Oh, he, yeah, I guess. That’s Zach.” Zach has a death wish.
“Just Zach?”
“It’s a long story. We used to know each other.”
“I’ve got all night if you want to talk about it.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I should probably head home.
My family will be waiting for me.” Family.
She must read whatever facial expression I had because she places her hand on my forearm.
It’s like being lit up by a firework from the inside.
No pleasure has ever compared to this woman’s touch.
“Not my family. Well, they are my family, but not like that. I’m not married or a mom.
I actually don’t even want kids, to be honest. Which is also very strange since I wanted siblings so badly while I was growing up, until my parents adopted so many, I lost track.
I’m sorry, I’m totally rambling. You make me nervous, Crew.
” She sighs, but she’s smiling up at me, so I guess it’s not a bad thing to make her nervous.
I reach out, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, loving the way it slips through my fingers. “I make you nervous? I feel like I can’t breathe around you. You’re so good, so perfect, and I’m . . . me,” I say, gesturing to myself.
“And what’s wrong with you, Crew? We’re clearly seeing different things.
” Monroe bites her bottom lip and looks away.
Is she . . . flirting with me? I’ve never flirted before, not really.
If someone wants to hook up with me or vice versa, it’s always been straightforward.
There was never any need for wooing. But Monroe is different. So, I need to be different.
I gently move my hand to her chin, gently clasping it between my thumb and pointer finger. Her breathing hitches at my touch, her pulse fluttering wildly in her neck. I want to kiss that spot, feel it beat against my lips as I get it to climb higher and higher.
“I’m okay with you seeing something different, pixie, as long as you see something at all.”
“You’re hard to ignore,” she says to the man who’s spent his entire life being a ghost. I lift my thumb from her chin, swiping it slowly across her bottom lip before dragging it down.
Her pupils are blown wide, her chest rising and falling harder.
I don’t give a shit that we’re standing in the middle of a music store, I’m completely enraptured by this gorgeous creature standing in front of me, letting a monster touch her like I have any fucking right to have this privilege.
I’m not good enough for Monroe, but I’m going to have her anyway.
“Why did he call you Roe?”
“It’s a nickname. Everyone calls me that except one person.” Anger starts to push forward right under my skin.
“Who?”
“You,” she whispers with a smile, and my heart does this weird tumble in my chest before squeezing. It’s not painful, it’s good, but it’s new. “I should get home, I always have dinner with my parents, grandparents, and siblings. It’s important to them. To us.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from something like that. I’ll see you soon, Monroe.”
“I hope so, Crew.”
I shove my hands back into my pockets and rock once on my heels before turning and leaving the store. Fuckface Zach already left, so I’m not worried, plus, the tracker that I slipped into her purse will help me keep my eyes on her whereabouts.