Chapter 37 Willow
WILLOW
It’s late at night when I wake up again, sticky with the remnants of sweat and Vic’s cum on my skin. I lie on the soft sheets for a while, soaking up the quiet and savoring the feeling of Vic’s breathing against my skin, basking in his closeness.
After several minutes, my stomach growls, and I realize that although I grabbed a bite at the diner, I haven’t really eaten much at all today. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep like this, so I pull myself up, careful not to wake Vic.
I’m surprised he’s sleeping so deeply, but he’s probably worn out from all the sex.
I slip into the bathroom and hop into the shower quickly to clean myself up. Part of me is sad to get rid of the evidence of what we did, but I can still feel the phantom pressure of Vic’s hands on me, and I remind myself that there will hopefully be lots of chances for us to repeat what we did.
Vic’s shirt is on the floor from where he threw it earlier, and I pull it on and then leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
At first, I think I’m the only one awake because the house is so quiet, but as I enter the kitchen, I notice Malice sitting at the table, carving off slices of an apple with a pocket knife.
“Hey,” I whisper quietly. “I didn’t know you were up.”
He raises a brow and bites off a piece of apple. “I thought you’d be dead to the world until morning.”
“I got hungry. Otherwise I probably would be.”
“Sit,” Malice says and then gets up, moving over to the box of food we brought in with us.
I take his seat since he’s being all bossy, and he gives me a look as he brings over some cookies and a fruit cup, setting them out on the table for me.
I kick out one of the other chairs for him, and he takes it, watching me as I start to eat.
I can tell there’s something he wants to say, probably related to what happened in the bedroom earlier.
It hangs in the air between us, but I don’t poke at it, just eating pieces of pear and pineapple, licking the juice from my fingers.
“You’re okay, right?” he asks finally. “After…”
I nod, not needing him to finish that sentence. “Yeah. More than okay. And thank you. For being there and then for giving us that moment alone.”
Malice nods, gaze intense. “Seemed like you guys needed it.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
I can’t argue with that. After what happened in that diner earlier today, things had reached a boiling point between us, and something had to give. It wasn’t planned at all, but I’m glad it happened.
At first, I think that’s going to be the end of it, but Malice surprises me by continuing on.
“You know, Vic’s always been kinda… different, I guess. Even before our dad started fucking him up, he kind of held himself apart. He was quiet. Fierce, but quiet. So I worried about him. Then that piece of shit got his hands on him, and it just made everything worse.”
“He told me a little about it,” I say. “What your dad did, how it affected him.”
Malice nods again. “When we killed him, our dad, it was mostly for our mom and all the shit he put her through, but part of it was for Vic too. At least on my end. He never deserved any of that, and our dad was just doing it because he was a selfish waste of space who thought he could mold his sons into the perfect soldiers and build a name for himself in the criminal underworld. Now Vic has to deal with the fallout of that forever.”
“None of you should have had to go through that,” I say, meaning every word of it.
“Yeah, but especially not Vic. I just… I dunno. I was always worried he was never going to find anyone. Find love or whatever. I didn’t even know if I believed in that shit for myself, but at least I had an outlet, you know?
If I wanted to fuck, I could fuck. Ransom knows how to get along with people, so he was always going to find someone, but I thought Vic was always gonna be stuck behind a computer screen. ”
It’s interesting, listening to Malice talk like this. I’ve always known the three of them are a unit, brothers who have each other’s backs and would do anything for each other. But there’s something about how Malice talks now that shows just how deep his love for Vic runs.
“I think… he would have said that was what he wanted,” I murmur. “To just be alone with his screens.”
“Yeah.” Malice runs a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “But would it have been the truth? I guess I would have thought so before you came along. Vic always needed someone who was gonna be patient with him and understand where he was coming from.”
“I didn’t want to force him into anything. I mean, I know I pressed the issue today, but that seemed like… I don’t know. I felt like he needed the release at that point.”
“I think you’re right.” He nods. “And I think it’s gonna be good for him in the long run. So thanks. For being so patient, and for knowing when to push.”
I clear my throat as a lump of emotion settles there. “Of course. I’ve always cared about Vic, and that’s not going to change.”
Malice’s expression turns intense. His eyes seem to bore into me, and I don’t look away as he reaches out, gripping my chin and tipping my face up.
“The way we feel about you won’t change either, Solnyshka,” he says, his voice low. “You’re our endgame. Nothing else matters.”
My heart flutters, my stomach swooping down and then back up again like I’m on a rollercoaster. His lips quirk into a little smile, and just when I think he’s about to kiss me, he lets me go and stands up instead.
“Wait here,” he says.
I frown, watching as he leaves the kitchen, heading for the living room where he’s left some of his stuff. When he comes back, he has his tattoo gun and supplies with him.
A quiet laugh bursts out of me, and I shake my head. “You left your whole lives behind, and you brought that with you?”
He shrugs. “Of course. What else do I need? As long as I’ve got this, my brothers, and you, I’m good. And it’s a good thing I brought it, because I wanna give you another tattoo. Seems like it’s about time.”
My stomach flutters. He added to the first one already, but I like the idea of getting more.
People always say that tattoos are addictive, and I understand that now.
Or maybe it’s just Malice who’s addictive.
Maybe it’s about the feeling of his attention and concentration on me, watching him do something so skillfully, feeling him mark me permanently.
I nod, biting my lower lip. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Good. Come on.”
Malice grins and jerks his head toward the living room. I follow him into the room, where he switches on a lamp and sets out his equipment.
“Strip,” he commands, standing back and watching expectantly.
It’s easy, considering all I’m wearing is Vic’s shirt, and I take it off, leaving myself bare for Malice. He watches me, his eyes raking over my skin for a long moment before he points to the couch.
“Lie down on your stomach.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble under my breath, and he snorts with amusement.
I make myself comfortable on the couch, resting my cheek on the cushion and watching as Malice strides over.
He kneels on the floor next to me, grabbing my arm and arranging it so that it drapes off the couch.
I wait while he studies my skin like he’s picturing a million different designs he could put on my body, and he mutters to himself a little before nodding.
Then he picks up the tattoo gun and gets to work.
This time, he’s working on my shoulder. It feels different than when he tattooed my chest, but there’s still a burning bite that comes from the needle moving against my skin. I’m more used to it now though, and it doesn’t shock me the way it did the first time.
I breathe through it, keeping my body relaxed.
The hum of the machine is loud in my ear, and I want to crane my neck to see what Malice is putting on me, but I stay put, letting him work.
“Shoulda woken Ransom up,” he murmurs after a while, not taking his eyes off his work. He grabs a rag and wipes away some ink before getting back to it.
“Hm?” I ask.
“So he could distract you from the pain like that first time. When he touched you. Although…” Malice grins, his eyes darting up for a second. “The second time, you just touched yourself.”
I smile back, replaying both memories in my mind. Warmth crawls through my limbs from the recollections of those two different nights.
“I needed it then,” I whisper. “But not this time. I can handle it. In fact… I kind of like the pain now.”
“Fuck,” Malice mutters. “Ty vygljadish’ takoj nevinnoj, a potom govorish’ takie veshhi. Ty svodish’ menya s uma.”
He glances up at me again, just long enough for me to see the heat curling through his eyes. I lick my lips, trying not to squirm from how much my body likes that look on him.
“You were so fucking gorgeous that first time,” he continues. “Letting me mark you up, taking the pain even though it must have hurt like hell for a first-timer.”
“I wanted… I wanted it,” I manage to tell him, breathing a little harder now.
“I put my lucky number on you, and that was the night I knew I’d never find another woman who could match us as well as you could.”
It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, and the conviction in his voice hits me hard. Malice is like a force of nature, dominant and gruff and protective, but when he makes declarations like that, something inside me goes all warm and gooey.
He keeps the needle moving over my skin, and as the buzz of the tattoo gun fills the quiet air, I realize I’m getting turned on.
No one is touching me this time, except for Malice’s hand on me, keeping me still and occasionally adjusting my position, and the needle on my skin—but that doesn’t matter.
At this point, it’s like a Pavlovian response. This kind of pain is pleasure to me now, and I whimper softly, squeezing my thighs together.
Of course, Malice doesn’t miss it.
“What are you doing, Solnyshka?” he asks. “Are you rubbing your pretty little legs together, trying to get off?”