Chapter Seven #2
With a start, her gaze landed on a nail brush I kept on the cabinet next to the sink.
We all tried to keep ourselves clean and free from oil and grease in case we were needed at Haven.
Greasy fingerprints were not welcomed on the walls and counters.
She picked up the brush and doused it with liquid soap before starting to brush her nails and the backs and palms of her hands all over again.
The cut on her palm had been bandaged fresh by Nadine that morning, but Veda had removed it and scrubbed that palm just as vigorously as she did the other.
I leaned in the doorway and watched her. Her grip on the plastic handle was white-knuckled, the muscles in her forearm corded with tension.
“You’re gonna hurt your hand worse, honey.” My voice came out quiet. She didn’t look up. I moved closer to her but didn’t touch her yet.
“I can still feel the blood from the man I shot.” Her voice was flat and far away.
She wasn’t talking to me so much as she was talking at the sink, at her own raw knuckles, at the memory of what she’d done in that apartment.
I also knew from experience that she was focusing on the second most horrific thing to happen to her in a short period of time to keep from focusing on her sister’s fate.
I put myself in her peripheral vision, so she’d know I was there without having to turn. I figured the best thing to do was roll with it for now.
“The first one stays with you,” I said. “That’s a fact.”
The brush paused for half a second, then resumed.
“Before I hooked up with Knuckles and he brought me into Kiss of Death, I was with a gang in the underground. I’d been with them maybe eight months when we had a confrontation with some kid who tried to jack the truck at a rest stop.
” I leaned against the vanity and crossed my arms over my chest. “He was maybe nineteen and tweaked out of his mind. Unfortunately, he also brought a piece he’d probably stolen from his daddy’s gun cabinet.
” I hated talking about this part of my life.
It was partly why I’d adopted the cheery persona I found hard to reach since I’d put this woman on the back of my bike in that alley.
“He got off a shot before I could stop him. Missed me by about six inches. The bullet embedded in the wooden post by my head. I shot before I thought and didn’t miss. It’s why I went to prison.”
She still didn’t look up from her hands. “Hardly seems fair,” she said softly. What worried me most was the lack of emotion both in her voice and in her features. “You going to prison when he shot at you first.”
I couldn’t help the slight lift of the corner of my lips. “Yeah, well, just because he was trying to jack my ride didn’t negate the fact I was running drugs. Only thing that saved me from a harsher sentence was the fact I had a squeaky clean record before that incident.
“I threw up after. Right there on the asphalt next to the body.” I paused. “I’ve got your back, Veda. I’ll give you everything you need to find the answers you want.”
She looked at me in the mirror, her face bare and exhausted and stripped of every defense. The steam had fogged the bottom half of the mirror now, so our reflections floated above a white haze.
She held my gaze in the mirror for a long moment. Her hands were still under the running water, the brush forgotten in her grip.
Then she shut off the water. The sudden silence filled the small bathroom. She let her hands drip without reaching for a towel, water running down her fingers and her abraded knuckles beginning to bead in places with fresh blood where she’d scrubbed too hard for too long under the hot water.
“I watched you last night,” she said. “With the Steel Serpent prospect. I was out walking when you caught him on the fence.”
I hadn’t known she was there. That meant she’d seen everything. Including the fact I’d killed that prospect. She’d watched me end a man’s life in the dark between the warehouses and she’d never made a sound.
I kept my face still. “Did it bother you? My killing him?”
She met my eyes in the mirror. Her voice didn’t waver. “No. That bastard got what he deserved.”
She said it with steel in her voice, the same steel I’d seen in the alley when she’d told me if I tried to hurt her she’d kill me. More importantly, Veda had lost that vacant look. She still had some fight left in her.
We held that gaze for a long moment. The steam on the mirror kept spreading, fogging the edges of our reflections until only our eyes were clear, locked on each other through the haze.
She turned away from the sink to face me directly this time. Not through the mirror. I could see the pulse beating in her throat, a quick steady rhythm that matched the beat in my own chest.
Then she reached for me. Her wet fingers closed on the front of my shirt, right over my sternum. She bunched the fabric in her fist and pulled me to her.
I closed the remaining distance between us by turning into her.
I cupped her face in my hands, my palms settling along the line of her jaw.
I felt the tension in the muscles of her neck.
She’d reached her limit, and needed something to relieve the pressure inside herself she had no hope of expressing because she didn’t have a frame of reference.
I tilted her head up and waited.
Her eyes stayed open and fixed on mine. I gave her every chance to pull back or change her mind or shove me away. Then I waited for her to decide what came next. She lifted her chin higher. Her grip on my shirt tightened, knuckles pressing into my chest. And she didn’t look away.
“Griffin.”
I lowered my mouth to hers, kissing her gently. But that didn’t seem to be what she wanted. She nipped my bottom lip and slid her arms around my neck. And when she forced the issue, she didn’t kiss me gently. I doubted she could have, not after everything she’d been through.
I gave her control for several long seconds, letting her set the pace until the tension in her body told me she was ready for me to take over. And God help me, I knew she wanted exactly that.
I pulled her closer with one arm around her waist, lifting her slightly off the tile floor, and she made a sound against my mouth that was half relief and half anguish.
We stumbled backward through the bathroom door, still tangled together. Her back hit the wall in the short hallway between the bathroom and the bedroom and she gasped, but she was already tugging my shirt from my pants.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. “You sure about this?” She used the separation to finish shoving my shirt out of the way. I pulled it over my head and tossed it aside.
“I’ve been sure since you told Iron’s man I was your woman.”
Her words hit me hard. She’d heard that too, standing in the dark while I crouched over a dying prospect and claimed her, making it clear I’d defend her with blood.
“I meant it,” I said.
“I know.” Her palms were soft against my chest. I loved the way she mapped the ink on my shoulders and the scar on my ribs.
We moved into the bedroom and I kicked the door shut behind us. She reached for the button of my jeans but I caught her wrist. “Veda…”
Her gaze snapped to mine, a wildfire burning in them. “Don’t.” The word was a razor’s edge. “Don’t you pull back from me now, you bastard.”
“Not stopping,” I promised, my voice low. “Just making sure you’re still here with me. You focus on me or I bring you back. I don’t want anyone or anything else in this room with us.”
A shudder went through her. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “I need…” She didn’t finish, but I knew what she needed.
Her fingers trembled. I helped her with the zipper, the sound rasping loudly in the charged silence.
She shoved me toward the bed, taking back the assertiveness she’d momentarily lost. I let her, sitting on the edge as she straddled me, her knees digging into the mattress on either side of my hips.
This wasn’t about tenderness. This was about exorcising demons.
It was a claiming, and I was more than willing to be claimed.