Chapter 9 Confession #2
I studied his hands as they moved. They were scarred and rugged, some of his fingers just slightly off from being broken so many times over the years.
He had ink along some of his hands, carrying the most tattoos of all of us.
I never really understood why. The ink was mostly random—things that Buyers don’t mind when you’re a killer like skulls, snakes, and thorned roses.
I think you're pretty, I admitted, a blush on my cheeks. I even thought when I walked in here how infuriating it is that you still looked good with vomit on you.
His chest heaved with a silent laugh, a tiny bit of the sound scraping out and causing him to wince.
Finally. I had a good question. I grinned, and Rafe matched it, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
What? he asked.
I reached a finger out to the roses in thick black ink along the top of his right hand.
He froze at my touch, his breath stuttering, and I yanked my hand back.
Sorry, I signed. He started to shake his head, to tell me it was fine, but I lifted a hand and continued quickly.
Do your tattoos have meaning? Or did you just get them because they look cool?
I didn’t think it was possible but he tensed further, his smile falling. The tiny golden flecks in his black gaze that I could faintly make out had dimmed.
I didn’t choose them, he said finally. He exhaled softly. Buyers gave them to me over the years. Viktor was first with CREED.
My smile fell, too. Rafe was sold more than the rest of us as kids.
I knew that, but it was different seeing the evidence of it scrawled across his body.
Tattoos crawled over almost every inch—just a map of other people claiming him without his permission, making him do terrible things to himself or others.
I’m afraid, he continued, his hands pausing a second before continuing, that most of your questions will likely have an answer like that. I want to tell you, but I don’t want your pity, Arden. You bear your own scars, too.
I tucked a little closer to him. There’s just so many Rafe.
I reached out again, that time less tentatively, and took his hand, running my thumb over some of the ink.
I traced the lines up his forearm. I pulled away gently, shaking my head.
Were all the Buyers purchasing you to kill people?
I asked it slowly. Everyone at Viktor’s knew Rafe was sold for his brute force, his ability to essentially be a well-trained bulldozer with a hell of an aim.
He didn’t ask questions; he just killed.
I think most of Viktor’s early wealth was built on selling Rafe, to be honest.
Not all of them wanted me like that, he answered, grimacing. Boys could be Dolls too, Arden.
My stomach tightened, my heart breaking. I know. I found that out with Thorne. Viktor sold us often for sex. That was why Thorne came to the courtyard. Well, one of the reasons. He wanted to get out of there, and he wanted to protect Kane.
I’ll never forget that day, he said, his mouth hooking with a tiny grin. The way you beat the shit out of those boys.
I blushed, my nose crinkling. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
I’m not making fun of you; I’m admiring you, he amended, giving me a serious look. We all were. I still remember what Kane said, too.
I tilted my head into the pillow, curious.
It was after him and Thorne dropped you back at your room. He wasn’t talking to me, just his brother, but I read his lips.
I narrowed my eyes. I bet you eavesdropped on everyone, huh?
He pressed his lips together, staring up at the ceiling as his fingers flew.
In my defense, half the time, I couldn’t tell if they were talking to me or not.
He waved his hands. Anyway, Kane called you Creed.
He told Thorne to be ready. He knew Viktor wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to make you more valuable.
My lips parted.
I’d never seen Kane like that. Honestly, I thought the guy was kind of annoying. He followed me everywhere. Rafe shrugged, and I chuckled. But I also didn’t mind the company, considering where there was Kane, there was Thorne, and for awhile, where there was Thorne, there was you.
He said it so casually, as if it was a fact of the universe that he’d spent all his childhood trying to find me in the shadows.
I stared at his profile, thinking how beautiful that was. Me too, I signed.
He turned his head. Sorry, I missed that.
Me too, I repeated. I looked for you, too. The house felt really empty when you were gone.
I was gone a lot, he said, his eyes softening.
I smiled weakly. Yeah. I noticed.
Our eyes held for a long moment, his gaze dropping slightly to my mouth before pulling back up.
Arden, he started. His hands tremored so he stopped, tying to steady them. Then he swallowed, his eyes tracing over my face. We can't ever get it back, can we? What we had that one week in the compound?
I hesitated. Honestly? I don't know. I grimaced. I lost so much after I gave in to you, Rafe, and it wasn't your fault—none of it—but I don't know how I'm meant to allow myself happiness if the people I love more than the world itself end up paying for it.
He managed a soft, sad smile. It was nice, though. That one week.
I matched his expression with ease. The best. Being with you made me feel so…okay.
He inhaled, his eyes glistening in the low light. You make me feel okay, too, Mrs. Creed.
My blush deepened. Wrong sign. It should be 'Miss' not 'Mrs.'.
Rafe's gaze bore into mine, his jaw flickering before he reached a tentative hand out. I braced myself, holding my breath as he pressed his palm flat over my heartbeat and—Tap. No.
My eyes widened a fraction, his free hand lifting.
I don't need that week back, he amended. As long as you're here, alive, with me—that's enough. You've been mine to protect for as long as I can remember, and I'll die before I let go of you. So no, Arden, I know exactly what I said and I meant it.
My lips parted. "Rafe?" I cracked out, too stunned to remember to sign, but he read his name with ease.
If we ever find a space between hells again, he signed, every movement sharp with his determination and love, you won't venture into the next one without a ring on that finger.
"You're—you're still drunk," I stammered, signing along with my words.
Rafe clasped my hands between his. Then he shook his head slowly, that crooked smile I've grown to crave suddenly back.
He brought my scarred, burned knuckles to his mouth a kissed them softly, the heat of his breath skittering down my wrists.
He closed his eyes, just holding me against his mouth.
He didn't push, didn't ask for more, but my heart leapt.
I had missed him and his touch so much. Rafe felt like home, the only one I've ever really had, and the fact he saw the same in me made any bit of panic I had left slide away.
I remember glancing around the room, realizing we were in a real bed, in a real place without cameras, neither of us bloody or bruised—at least not physically.
For the first time and maybe for the last time, we'd been given the very space between hells he'd mentioned and that we both so desperately craved.
Without overthinking it any further, I tugged my hands out of his and moved forward, sinking my mouth against his.
His rough palms encased my face in an instant, all the tension leaving him as we dipped closer, eliminating every inch of space between us.
His towel slipped away, and I fumbled with the knot on my robe, then the hooks of the bikini.
We released matched exhales of relief when our naked bodies finally pressed, the heat of him against the heat of me.
His fingers shook as they followed the curve of my neck, my shoulder, my breast, pulling back enough to look down between us.
So, so beautiful, he signed, his dark eyes soft and worshipful as he met mine.
He signed that word, beautiful, even when he touched my burn wounds, lighting something inside me that I thought was lost on Dr. Davidson's operation table.
But then he curved his hand down to my thigh and I flinched.
He immediately pulled away, and I noticed just how badly he was shaking, too.
We don't need to do anything, he told me, and I could see on his face another apology—the one I wouldn't let any of the guys apologize for.
I shook my head, my chin trembling, and he kissed my forehead.
Just let me look at you, he said. That's enough, Arden.
I would never willingly hurt you. Never. You know that, right?
I nodded. I did. I trusted Rafe in every way. Despite what Halden forced him to do, forced all of them to do, he'd done everything in his power not to. If anything, I wanted to erase that memory altogether, to never have to associate that kind of pain with the man I loved.
I cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth back to mine, parting my legs and letting his hips fall between.
I caught the stutter of his breath on my tongue, his arm digging into the sheets beneath me so he could hook against my back and bring me closer.
He hugged me like that, never pushing forward in any way, and that alone helped heal some of those broken pieces inside me.
"I want you," I whispered against his lips. "Please."
He lifted his free hand. Are you sure? His brows pulled together. We really don't have to, baby.
The tension in my shoulders softened, everything in me melting at his use of 'baby'. After everything, especially after losing Leah, I needed my fire, and it never burned brighter than when I was with Rafe Creed.
I smiled brightly, not even having to force it, and nodded.