64. Tess
TESS
The slam of Cyrus’ door was the only comfort I could take. At least she was gone for now.
Blade reached across the table and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go to my room. Vibe’s are weird now.”
Nodding, I let her help me up as Nash cleaned up the cards — placing them back inside the ornate wood box and sealing them away.
Blade’s gentle hand on my lower back sent a wave of warmth through my body, a strange comfort after the absolute mindfuck that had just happened.
Guiding me down the hallway, we made our way to Blade’s room. She pressed open the door, revealing the entire space to me. Not just the peek I’d gotten when the lights were out.
Every wall was covered in crude graffiti and drawings, the walls painted a deep navy blue that was almost black. Blade flicked on two lantern-like lights from her nightstand before plopping down into her bed, a cable of rope in her hands.
The metal bed frame hardly moved as she fell down, the legs bolted to the floor.
My throat tightened. Why did she need all that?
Nash was right behind us, closing the door after she walked in. “Sorry, Sweet Lamb. Cyrus just reads a lot into the cards.”
Nodding, Blade patted the bed. “Besides, Death isn’t even really a bad card.”
“No card is bad.” Nash insisted as she sat on the edge of Blade’s bed.
Reluctantly, I crawled into the mattress and crossed my legs. Even in the dim light, I could see chains dangling from clips embedded in the wall. Coils of rope hung from hooks all over the room, varied colors and sizes.
Nash leaned back onto one of the metal bed posts. “That’s true.”
“Then what does it mean?” I asked, not really believing her.
“Rebirth, death of the old guard. Authority for change.” Nash’s gray eyes glowed at me in the dark room. My eyes followed the lightning down her shoulder toward her fingertip. Even during the reading, I’d felt like each card was imbued with power from her touch.
My chest hurt from the intensity of the moment. It was supposed to be a stupid game. Not a real indictment of my future.
My eyes caught on Blade’s hands, where she wrapped the rough gauge rope around her palm.
She looped it first around her thumb, stretching the rope to the back of her hand, then around her wrist. She kept up like that for a while, pulling the rough cord around her palm and wrist in a tight figure eight.
Her winding tattoos lifted my eyes from her hands up her body.
Nodding toward Blade’s forearm where her brand was visible, I decided to shift topics. “Why the Three of Swords? Seems like a serious meaning.”
Blade shrugged, her eyes darting to Nash. “It was one of the first cards we pulled in a reading. It meant something then.”
“Does it now?” I asked.
But before Blade could answer, Nash cleared her throat. “Plus, the obvious connection. Three swords, three of us. Bonded forever.”
Reaching across the bed, I grazed the branded skin on Blade’s arm. A shiver ran over her as goosebumps rose on her flesh, her grip on the rope in her palm tightening.
“Did it hurt?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the raised skin. It had healed over well, the skin matching the rest of her other than the slight lift.
Of course it was a silly question. Even tattoos hurt, let alone seering your skin into a pattern.
Blade laughed and nodded. “For sure. It’s a quick flash of pain at first, just intense heat. But once the brand pulls away…”
When her voice trailed off, Nash took over, “A deep, throbbing ache.” With a laugh, Nash looked at her elbow ditch. “This tattoo hurt worse if I’m being honest.”
She grabbed my hand and brought it to the divot, letting my fingers caress the spider web on her left arm. Meeting her gray eyes, I asked, “Is there a reason you picked spiderwebs?”
Nash was almost surprised, but she shrugged. “Of course.”
“And?” I pressed.
“Spiderwebs are delicate, intricate. They’re so beautiful and so deadly. If you let yourself get caught in them, you’ll ruin the pattern and suffer the consequences.”
My mind flashed back to the Bible. I’d spent far too much time studying it at Heirs of Promise to forget what spiderwebs meant in those old fables.
There, they represented the fragility of human life, the danger of deception, or being trapped by sin.
I liked Nash’s definition better.
Blade lifted her shirt, the ends of the rope on her palm dangling and lightly grazing her skin. “Ribs hurt too.”
Of course, I knew that.
Before I knew it, Blade had grabbed my other hand and placed it on her bare skin. Braless underneath her black tshirt, I could see her hard, pierced nipples.
“Yeah, especially when you’re just muscle and bone.” Nash scoffed.
Licking my lips, I couldn’t stop my fingers from tracing the abstract lines along Blade’s ribs. Once my hand was following the black ink, Blade took her chance to pull her tshirt over her head.
In the dim light of her bedroom, the tattoos along her body looked like shadows swallowing her whole.
“Mine don’t mean anything. I just like them.” Blade lowered her voice, her body trembling as she tried to control herself under my touch. She grabbed the ends of her rope with her free hand, tugging on them to stop herself from grabbing me.
Nash’s gray eyes looked me up and down, like I was a piece of wagyu and she’d been starving for two decades. “Do you have any?”
I pulled my hand back to my body. “Yeah, but they’re lame.”
“Bullshit!” Shaking her head, Blade launched across the bed and started grabbing at the hem of my shirt. “Tell us where they are or I’ll find them myself.”
A part of me was surprised she hadn’t noticed already.
But I stood firm, looking instead to Nash. “Show me more of yours and I’ll think about it.”
A smirk took over Nash’s face, knowing that I just wanted to see more of her. As desperate as she clearly was for me, my hunger for her was growing too.
Will Blade be okay with sharing?
Grabbing the back of her deep green shirt, Nash pulled the shirt over her head and revealed her rippling abs. Her skin glowed a deep amber in the dim light. I licked my lips as I followed the strikes of lightning down her body toward her pussy.
The bolts formed into one, powerful strike that narrowed along that muscular V that led to her center.
Her jeans cut off my view, stopping me from seeing where the lightning may have struck.
“Have I earned one?” Nash asked, her teeth gritted as she tried to contain her excitement.
Nodding, I lifted my sweatpants from my ankles, revealing a small clover. “I needed a little luck.”
“It’s so dainty.” Blade chuckled, reaching her fingers to the sensitive spot. A tingle ran up my leg at her touch, a desire to thrash against her.
And I knew if I did, that she’d find a way to hold me down.
Nash reached her hand out, tracing the edges of the clover with her blackened fingertip. “That one must have hurt.”
“I don’t remember, too much to drink. Show me another.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Blade was surprised. All that was left was their pants. Eager to appease, Blade grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down while leaving her boxers in place. Her hands were red from the rough red digging into the flesh.
My throat tightened as I saw the bulge in her underwear.
She’s strapping.
The last time we’d found ourselves in a bed together, she’d… gotten creative.
On her leg, Blade revealed one of abstract brush strokes turned into the head of a snake — bearing its teeth at an intruder.
“Oh, cool. Why a snake?”
“I always liked the snake better than Adam. Who wouldn’t want to tempt Eve?” Blade sucked her teeth as she kept her green eyes on me.
Given how much they hated the home, I was surprised by how many of their tattoos were biblical, or at least had a biblical interpretation.
“You would.” I winked before turning to Nash. “Your turn.”
Instead of taking off her pants, she rose to her knees and turned around. On her back, spider webs weaved together. A few strands weaved together to form roman numerals
“My parents' birthdays.” Nash’s voice was low, projecting into the dark corners of Blade’s room.
It was beautiful, tasteful.
Even after all of these years, I struggled to understand how Nash had ended up in the same group home as us.
One tragic accident and both of her parents were gone.
Without any other surviving family — except a great uncle who she’d never met and was near death himself — she was surrendered to the state.
Before that, Nash had a perfectly normal life.
Looking at her now, pierced and tatted, I wondered if her animalistic urge to hunt would have found a way to creep in. If she hadn’t ended up here, would she have found another way to let the anger out?
I’d heard of other groups like this. Hell, even the Violence weren’t far off.
Nash sat back down, her eyes hungry for more of me. She’s shown enough of her soft flesh and needed to level the scales.
“Your turn, Sweet Lamb.”
Nervous suddenly, I knew where my other one was. Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I lifted the cotton over my head and threw it to the ground. In my soft, cotton bralette, I pointed to my ribcage.
Blade and Nash both leaned over, the mattress caving under the bulk of their muscles. Blade brought her hand to my back, pressing into my skin as she peered at the small tattoo. In a scrawled text, the quote read: Braver than you believe.
It was Blade who met my gaze first, recognizing it immediately.
“Winnie-the-Pooh.” I swallowed hard.
“I remember.” Nodding, Blade ran her fingers along my rib. “I’m surprised you do.”
With a laugh, I let my head roll back. “How could I forget?”
Nash bit the inside of her cheek, letting her hand graze the soft flesh. “It was the only fucking working VHS in that whole place. We must have watched that tape like a hundred times.”
I could still picture the golden bear in his cropped red sweater, sitting atop a huge tree with Christopher Robin by his side. Behind my eyelids, the crickets were still swirling behind Pooh’s head.
“Why did you get it?” Nash’s eyebrows furrowed together.