Lash (Club Sin #7)

11. A Lightness of Being

a lightness of being

Lash

I wake with the dawn out of long habit.

For the first time since Roberto Pugli's merciless, evil eyes bored into mine as he threw the match, I wake with a lightness in my soul; a lightness, as in the absence of weight; a lightness, as in the presence of light.

The light of attention, affection, and love finally illuminated the shadows which have haunted the vacant, echoing spaces where my heart should be.

I linger in bed, caught in the drowsy quasi-wakefulness that comes after a restful night's sleep. And I realize, only as I drift toward full wakefulness, that I have not truly rested since the death of my family either.

I open my eyes—gray dawn light filters through the gapped curtains; the hotel room is a carbon copy of every middling quality hotel room in every developed country in the world—ugly thin beige carpet, ugly sheer drapes, and ugly white scratchy bedding, an aging TV, and a sad little Keurig coffee machine.

I roll to my side. Tatiana is still sound asleep, her slender form turned away, the blanket draped over her hips and tucked under her arm. She lets out a little snort, a sigh, a pause, and then a deep breath sucked in fast and let out slowly.

My hands twitch, longing to caress her tender skin and soft curves, to know the pleasure of her touch again, but I know she needs her sleep. I slip out of bed, dress, and steal silently out of the room in search of real coffee, and perhaps something to bring back for breakfast. I take the elevator down to the first floor. The doors slide open; on the wall opposite the elevators is a large mirror, in which I see my reflection.

I do not recognize myself.

It's a moment of disorientation—a mini existential crisis. Who am I? Without the haunting horror of what happened, without the driving rage of revenge, who am I?

Lash no longer.

He was a creation born out of sorrow—a vow of revenge, a new name, a burial of everything I was with my family; a vow, too, to not cut my hair or beard until Roberto was dead.

The man in the mirror is…Lash.

My hair is past my shoulders, nearly to mid-back, thick and glossy black, albeit with a strand or two of silver at the temples. My beard is that of a wizard, long and thick and bushy, tapering to a point at mid-chest.

Who am I?

Who do I want to be?

I am free of my rage—Roberto Pugli has had a vise grip on me for so many years, and by letting go of the drive to kill him myself, I am free of his control over me.

I am free of the ghosts of my past. My beloved Ileana is at rest. My sweet, innocent baby son and daughter are resting with their mother. I will always miss them. Always grieve them. But I cannot live in thrall to their wandering spirits any longer.

I must find a new way forward.

With Tatiana.

As Nicolae.

Nicolae Dragos was vain. He visited the barber twice a month, kept his hair short and neat, and his beard closely trimmed. This vagabond wizard look no longer suits me, I think.

Time to make one last symbolic gesture of release—cutting away all that remains of Lash.

So, I get a cab to a nearby store and buy a grooming kit—clippers, scissors, and a comb, as well as some beard oil and hair pomade. Back to the hotel, where I find a decent continental breakfast on offer; I prepare two coffees and two bagels liberally smeared with cream cheese, and bring everything upstairs.

It's a tricky juggling act getting the door open with everything in my hands, but I manage it. Once inside, I discover Tatiana is still asleep—she must be very tired or a heavy sleeper, for I wasn't exactly sneaky on the way in.

Funnily enough, it's when I sit on the edge of the bed to remove my boots that she wakes up. She rolls over to her back, blinks blearily at me, smiles softly, sweetly, and then stretches prodigiously, yawning and shuddering. The blanket slips off, leaving her naked body bare.

I growl in wordless appreciation. "Beautiful Tati. So damned beautiful."

She smiles again and crawls across the bed to lay her head in my lap and gaze up at me. "Where'd you go?" She sniffs the air. "Coffee?"

I chuckle. “Yes. Coffee, and a bagel."

She rubs my crotch. "You're the best."

"It's only coffee."

She shakes her head. "No, Nico. It's the simple gesture that you went and got coffee and a bagel for me."

"It's nothing," I insist. "Just coffee and a bagel from the lobby."

She rests her head on my thigh, smiling lazily and lasciviously at me. "Just let me be grateful, will you?"

"Very well, then," I say, snorting a laugh. “You are most welcome, you sexy, naked, wonderful woman, you."

"Sexy, naked, and wonderful? All at once?" Her fingers drift up my thigh to the closure of my jeans, flipping it open and tugging down the zipper.

"Those are just the descriptors that came to mind first. I could fill an ocean with words to describe you. I am fluent in several languages, and passable in several more."

She tugs at my jeans—more of a gesture than a real attempt to pull them off. I lift up and slide my jeans and underwear off, and then rip off my shirt.

"My god, you're so fucking hot," she whispers, almost to herself. To me, then. "I'm listening."

"Beautiful," I say in English, and then start listing descriptors in every language I know. "Sexy. Alluring. Intelligent." More English. "Talented. Hardworking. Wise." Croatian. "Arousing. Tantalizing. Bold." Romani.

She gathers my cock in her hands, gazing up at me as she strokes me to aching arousal.

"Sensual. Strong. Resilient." Italian. "Bold. Powerful. Insightful." German. "Creative. Driven. Compassionate." Russian.

"I only know Croatian and English," she murmurs, “but I like hearing you say sweet things to me, no matter the language."

She licks her lips, eyes glinting and aroused, and then takes my cock in her mouth and drives down, and a groan escapes me. I let her back away, suckling around my glans greedily for a moment, and then slide her lips back down around me. When I feel arousal surge and boil in my balls, I gently guide her away.

“Tati," I whisper, "I need to be inside you."

She sits up, breasts swaying, hair loose and wild, eyes shining with need. "Then take me, my Nico."

My Nico .

It stings for a moment, hearing that phrase again. But then the sting morphs and becomes pain—the kind of pain that comes after a good workout, an ache that tells you you’re alive. And then the pain morphs once more and becomes…joy.

Relief.

Love.

"Say that again," I say, stretching across the bed to snag a condom. I open it and roll the condom on.

Sitting up with my feet on the floor, I reach for her. Tatiana slides a leg over my hips, gliding astride me in a smooth, lithe, sensual movement. She tosses her long black hair over one shoulder and sits up on her knees, reaching between us to grasp my cock, notches me at her entrance and lets go.

"Take me, my Nico."

My eyes burn and water. "Again. Just—just the last part."

Understanding floods her features. "My Nico."

I surge upward, gripping her hips and pulling her down onto me. I cry out with a loud, rough bark of ecstasy as her tight hot wet pussy swallows me whole, takes me home. "Tati!" I rasp. "My Tatiana."

She sinks onto me until her ass smashes flat against my hips and thighs, and I ache from being so deep. "Nico—my Nico. Mine."

"I never thought to hear that again," I whisper.

She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her lips to my ear. "Does it hurt?"

I shake my head. "A little, at first." I pull away, brush her wild loose hair out of her face. "It's yours, now. I am yours, now."

She writhes on me, driving her hips back and forth, rocking my cock inside her until I growl with the unutterable intensity of it. "My Nico." She nips my earlobe. "I love you, Nico."

Wonder floods me, and I thrust up into her, hard, while crushing her down. Ecstasy and love war within me, fighting for my breath, stealing my words. I wrap one arm low around her waist and the other around her shoulders, clutching the back of her neck. Our eyes are locked, hers glistening and mine wide. She grinds on me slowly, clutching the back of my head, gasping and huffing.

“Tati," I whisper, overwhelmed and overcome as I feel her reach the cusp of orgasm; mine is near, and I roughly grip the crease of her hips and thrust madly. "I love you."

She pants raggedly in my ear. "Harder, my Nico. Take me."

My rage has been bottled up for so long, my needs repressed, ignored, denied. I have lived a half-life for too long.

With her whispered demand, she grants me yet another layer of freedom.

I stand up and stride across the room with her, press her back to the wall beside the bathroom door. I grip her ass cheeks in my hands and bury my face in the side of her neck and scent her skin and taste her flesh and growl as her nascent orgasm causes her walls to clutch and clench around me.

"Take me, my Nico," she whispers yet again, whispering hot words directly in my ear. "Fuck me, my love. As hard as you want. As hard as you can. Give me everything, Nicolae. Everything .”

I groan a ragged growl and thrust into her. She rakes her fingernails up my back and keens in my ear. " YES !"

The clawed fingernails, the cry of encouragement—it unleashes something inside me.

"Tati," I whisper. "Mine." It's a growl.

"Yes," She gasps. "Yours. Take me. Show me how I'm yours."

I thrust into her rough and hard. She cries out, a sharp wail of pleasure. Again—and she whimpers again.

Tatiana clutches the back of my neck with one hand and slips the other between us, finding her clit and giving herself the edge she needs to orgasm with me.

I lean back to give her hand room to move, holding her weight in my hands, and I let go. Abandoning all restraint, I give her every last shred of myself. I drive relentlessly into her and our bodies meet with loud wet slaps, and she shudders all around me, sinuously arching and writhing, screaming as she comes. I feel my own release smash through me and stars burst behind my eyes and heat floods through me and everything clenches and I roar and bellow, fucking her without restraint, and she screams " YES! YES! YES! " while holding onto me and raking her fingernails into my shoulders and meeting every one of my rough, slamming thrusts with her own, rising and falling onto me, using my shoulders for leverage.

I come for an age, and she matches me, meets me there, coming so hard she weeps uncontrollably, sobbing breathlessly.

When at long last we are done, she collapses forward against me. "Bed," she breathes. "Take us to the bed, Nico."

I take us back to the bed and sit down, and then lay back, and she sits on top of me, above me, keeping me buried deep inside her sweet, perfect sex.

She gazes down at me, tears staining her cheeks, flyaways sticking to the tears, breasts heaving with ragged breaths. "Fuck, Nico. That was…"

"Something I have never, ever, ever experienced before,” I finish.

“Me either."

"God, I love you." She smiles at me, and then my bag from the store catches her eyes. "What's in the bag?"

I grin up at her. "Something I was hoping you would help me with."

"Anything."

"I want you to cut my hair."

She blinks. "What? C-cut your hair?"

"The last of Lash must vanish," I say. "I vowed to not cut my hair or beard until I had killed Roberto Pugli. But I have released that vow. I turned over my evidence against him to an investigator in Germany who has an iron-clad case against him. My evidence will only add to the burden of proof weighed against Pugli and he will be brought to justice for his crimes, not just against me, but many, many others." I rake my hand through my hair, and then through my beard. "So now, I cut my hair and trim my beard."

She touches my jawline. "So you won't completely shave?"

I laugh. "My god, no. I haven't fully shaved since I was old enough to grow a beard. I will still have a beard, just not this wizard thing," I say, flipping the end.

She laughs. “Okay, okay." The laughter fades. "But, Nicolae, I am not a barber."

I shrug. "That does not matter. Back in Las Vegas, my brother Rev’s woman cuts hair for the others. Apparently, she used to do that for her father and brothers and now the other men have her cut their hair. So you will just cut off the length for now and Myka will fix it when we return to the States, if necessary.” I search her face, her thoughtful expression. “Are you changing your mind about moving to the States with me?"

She shakes her head. "No!" She smiles, shaking her head again. "No. Not at all. I just…I realized I don't know much about your life there."

"Well, we, the Broken Arrows, provide security for a secretive, exclusive nightclub called Club Sin. It is…well, it is a rather wild place full of debauchery and mayhem. Our job is to keep everyone safe and make sure that everything happens with the fully informed and sober consent of all parties. We work there, and we live in what amounts to an underground bunker beneath the club. It doesn’t feel like a bunker, however. It just feels like…well, somewhat like a university dormitory, perhaps. We work nights and have days to ourselves. Until recently, we never left the club because we all had enemies who would kill us if we did. But now those enemies are sorted out and things are changing. I think all of us will continue living under the club for a while yet, though. None of us will give up that camaraderie."

"But I will be able to come and go? To operate my business?"

I smile at her. "Of course, my love. You are not swearing an oath to anything or anyone. You are simply choosing to live with me."

“And there are others? Other women?"

I nod. "Oh yes. Several. Rev has Myka, Kane has Anjalee, Chance has Annika, Silas recently returned from Boston with his lovely Naomi, his brother Saxon at nearly the same time with Terra, and now Solomon has Scarlett."

"And you have me."

I nuzzle her cheek. "Just so."

She trails her fingers through my beard. "Well, as long as you fully understand that I have absolutely zero training or experience in cutting hair and that I am not responsible if you end up looking like shit, then let's do this."

"You will do fine," I reassure her. “We will leave enough length for Myka to work with. But, just to say, Ileana used to cut my hair, and I know what to do, I just cannot do it myself."

She shrugs, laughing. "You are crazy, asking me to do this. But okay, Nico. As you wish."

“It is not so hard, I promise. It will not be complicated."

And so we leave the bed. I put on underwear and she opts for only my T-shirt, which doesn't quite cover the lower swell of her tight, plump, beautiful ass. I carry a chair from the desk into the bathroom while Tatiana unboxes the kit and plugs in the clippers.

I face the mirror, letting out a quick sigh. "First the beard. Cut it an inch or so below my chin with the scissors."

"You are nervous," Tatiana points out.

I shrug, nod. "A little. It is a big change. It represents turning over a new page in the book of my life."

"You don't want to wait? Have your friend Myka cut it properly?"

I shake my head. "No, no. I want you to do it." I grip my beard in my fist and pinch between my index and middle finger below my chin. "Cut between my hands.

She brings the scissors closer and then hesitates. "Are you sure?"

I laugh. "Yes, Tati. I am sure."

She sucks in a breath, holds it, and then cuts through my beard.

My hand comes away clutching six inches of beard. I hold it up. " There, you see? Not so hard."

She looks at me. A slow grin spreads across her face. "Wow. You…it is different, good, but it will take some getting used to." She runs her fingers over my jawline. "I think I will quite like it."

I indicate the clippers. "I will trim it properly once you have finished with my hair. Now, create a ponytail and cut the long part off."

She grabs the comb and pulls it through my hair, straightening and neatening it, and then pulls it into a ponytail in her fist at the top of my head. Another moment of hesitation, her eyes on mine in the mirror, and then she snips through the thick mass of my hair.

I blow out a breath as the remainder falls loose, shapeless and blunt. I run my fingers through it, shaking my head and moving it around in an attempt to come to grips with the newly weightless feeling.

Tatiana covers her mouth with her scissor-holding hand, eyes wide. "Nico." She shakes her head. "It looks awful. I mean, you’re still handsome, but…"

I laugh. "You aren't done, Tati. Now the clippers."

I show her the correct guard—the longest one, since my intention is to leave it long enough that Myka will have length to work with.

“This will give it more shape. Just run the clippers through my hair." I smile at her, hoping to reassure her. "And remember—it is just hair. It will grow back even if something were to happen. Which it will not. So just breathe, alright?"

She nods, sighing nervously, and then turns on the clippers. She runs them over my head from front to back, and chunks of my hair topple to my shoulders and the floor. Top, left side, right side, and back. She shuts off the clippers and drags her fingernails backward over my scalp from forehead to nape.

"So?" she asks. "Okay?"

I nod. "You are doing wonderfully. So good that I think we can continue."

" Continue ?" she squeaks. "Nico, I am not good at this."

"Sure you are. Look!" I turn my head side to side. "It looks good so far, yes?"

She shrugs. "I mean, yes. I suppose."

I choose the next guard, remembering with painful, bittersweet clarity how Ileana used to do it. "Now this one, but only on the sides. Hold the longer part of my hair to one side and go first down, and then up." I drag my finger along my hair to show her the line. "You want to make a sharp line just here, on both sides and around the back. You see?"

She nods, licking her lips nervously. "Yes, okay."

With a sharp exhale, she wiggles the guard to make sure it's secure and then turns the clippers back on. She does as I instructed slowly and carefully, biting the corner of her lower lip with each pass of the clippers.

"There," she says. "Good?”

I nod, checking side to side, running my hand over the sides and through the length on top. "Perfect. See? We won't even need Myka." I switch to one last, shorter guard for the areas above my ears. "Now, this goes from level with the tip of my ears to about here," I say, drawing a line about halfway up.

This part is quick, and when she's done, she covers her mouth again. "Nico!" She shakes her head in wonder. "You are like a different man! I barely recognize you!"

"But you still think I'm sexy, yes?" I ask, smirking at her reflection.

"Once you get that hair off you, I'll show you how sexy I think you are." She runs her fingertips through my hair and down my jawline. "I can't believe I did this."

“Not as hard as you think, huh?"

She shrugs. “No. But I think anyone with training would probably have some thoughts."

I laugh. "Of course. But I do not need a two-hundred-dollar haircut, Tatiana. This is exactly what I wanted."

In fact, I barely recognize myself. I still need to clean up the shape of my beard, but…I look like Nicolae Dragos once more. Lash is truly and forever gone.

"My god, it feels strange," I say, passing my hand over my scalp, expecting still to feel the long locks slip through my fingers, finding instead the soft fuzz and short locks.

She exhales again, nodding. "It will take some getting used to, that's for sure. You are a beautiful man, Nicolae." She leans on me from behind, arms slinging around my shoulders. "It makes me feel good that you trusted me with this."

"Of course I do, Tati." I stand up and turn in her arms. "Now. I will clean this up. You have coffee and eat."

Once I've cleaned up the hair as well as I can without a broom, I rinse off in the shower, re-washing my newly shorn hair, and then I style it and put oil in my beard. Clean and feeling like a new man, I sit beside her on the bed, and we drink our coffee and eat our bagels in companionable silence.

Every so often, I catch her glancing at me, frequently seeming surprised. But then, when I use the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror a while later, I am surprised at myself.

The man in the mirror is a stranger to me. It has been…how many years? Six? Seven? It is hard to remember. I have been with the Broken Arrows for three years…I think…and I wandered the earth aimlessly for two or three years before encountering Inez. So yes, six or seven years.

In those years, I have changed. Crow's feet crease the corners of my eyes, where before they were laugh lines. I am leaner in the face, my jawline sharper, my eyes deeper. I look harder. Older.

If I look closely, I can still see the Nicolae Dragos I remember, he’s just…older and harder.

In short order, it is time to meet the others on the base for our departure to Colombia. Tatiana and I, having been up early anyway, are the first to arrive at the specified hangar near the specified runway on the Manaus airbase. An aging but well-cared-for Huey is on standby outside the hangar, the pilot and co-pilot going through pre-flight.

A few minutes later, a vehicle brakes to a precise halt near the hangar, and Solomon, Scarlett, and Lorenzo emerge.

I feel for Lorenzo—he has a faint limp from a previous injury, and his arm is in a proper sling against his torso. He has his color back, however, and despite the limp strides with confidence and determination toward the Huey.

He reaches me first, eying me. He nods. "Looks good. We are ready?"

"Thank you, and yes." I pause, waiting for Solomon and Scarlett to reach us so I only need to update everyone once.

Solomon stares at me for a long time. "Damn, dude. You clean up good." A shake of his head. "I seriously didn't recognize you at first."

Scarlett snorts. "I just met you, so I wouldn't have known you from Adam.”

I glance at Tatiana, let out a sigh, smiling at her. "It was time. I am letting go of the past.” I look back at my friends. “Which means I am putting Lash to rest."

"Nicolae Dragos," Solomon says. "I heard Nils use your real name."

I nod. “Yes. Nicolae is the name of my birth. I adopted the moniker Lash after my family was murdered. Nicolae was dead with them, so I became someone else. I am no longer that man, however. I have resurrected Nicolae Dragos." I pass my hand over my hair and jaw. "Which also meant this."

Sol pulls me in for a resounding embrace—I go stiff for a second, unused to such physical affection from my brothers in the Arrows, and then I force myself to loosen and return the hug. "Does this mean you'll stop being so damn mysterious and standoffish, now?"

"Who is mysterious and standoffish?” I say, faking a blustery offense.

He grins, shoving me away playfully. "Right, right. Not you, certainly. I mean, it's not like I've known for you three years and am just now finding out your real name and literally any details about your past."

I wince, letting the playful bluster go. "I am sorry, my friend. I felt…I long assumed I would find a way to get close to Pugli, kill him, and die in the process. I saw no point in getting close to people who would just lose me when I died."

"So when you were pushing us to hunt down Pugli, you always assumed you would get killed?" Scarlett asks, frowning. “What about the rest of us? What about Inez?"

I shake my head. "I cannot excuse that. I meant to send you all on without me at some point or leave you in the night to finish the job. But I…" I look at Tatiana. "I was shown the error of my ways. I now see a better path."

She sighs, her expression full of understanding and sympathy. "I get it, Lash…or Nicolae, I guess I should say. I lost everyone I ever cared about. I lived my life assuming I'd die sooner than later and not caring. And I found someone who showed me that life is worth living. So…yeah. I get it."

The helicopter is starting, now that the pilot and co-pilot have finished their pre-flight checks. The rotors begin to spin, slowly at first and quickly speeding until they're a blur of black overhead.

At that moment, Solomon’s burner rings. He puts a finger in one ear and the phone to the other. "Yeah?" he shouts. Listens. "Leaving Manaus now. Tolemaida Airbase. Right. Yeah, we've got Lash. No, we've got firepower covered. See you soon."

He ends the call, shoves the phone in his pocket, and then twirls his finger over his head. "Let's bug out!”

We board the helo, strap in, don headsets, and then we're airborne, at last en route to springing Inez from the clutches of the world's most dangerous cartel warlord.

This should prove to be most entertaining.