23. Roxy
Roxy
Turns out killing people takes its toll on the body. I’m pretty sure it’s been two days since that... moment.
Time seems to be moving weirdly these past few weeks.
Not working, and keeping to my usual schedule makes the days and hours squish together until I can’t quite differentiate them.
My hands ache to wrap around a tattoo machine and paint on someone’s skin, and gain that little sense of normalcy.
Which is ridiculous because normalcy flew out of the window long ago.
Slowly, I work up the courage to shower and dress. My body still hurts, but all my wounds are healing nicely. Kai returned me to the apartment afterwards and dressed them all with the precision of a doctor. Like he’s done it a thousand times.
I brush the tangles out of my hair and wash every inch of my body until I feel human again.
I even put some makeup on, and thankfully it makes me feel slightly put together.
That and the black long sleeve shirt, the black tights, and my platform Docs.
I could almost pass for my old self, looking in the mirror.
Even though I know that girl doesn’t exist anymore.
Something snapped two days ago. And the worst part is that I’m not sure if I miss the girl from before.
She was scared. A little lonely. A little weak.
Right now, I don’t feel weak.
I certainly don’t feel lonely, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that if I walk out of this bedroom, I’ll find Kai keeping watch. He hasn’t left since that night.
And I don’t want him to.
A thought slides into my mind, and the corner of my mouth lifts. Seeing the unopened tattoo machine where I left it, I collect everything I need and all but sprint to the lounge.
Maddy’s apartment is so stunning that it takes my breath away every time I walk around. The huge open windows bleed sunlight into the pristine room, decorated with fuzzy blankets and deep white couches.
Kai watches me from the kitchen, but I don’t look in his direction. Not yet.
I set the case on the coffee table, flipping the latches open.
The familiar scent of disinfectant and ink settles around me as I lay everything out in neat rows.
The stunning machine. The ink caps. Cartridges.
All my muscles relax as I fall into the routine of setting up, my hands moving without thought as I slide the cartridge in.
When I test it, a soft buzz fills the apartment for a quick second, feeling the vibration hum through my fingertips.
It's a sound that will always ground me. As much as the act of getting lost in the creation.
“Kai,” I singsong, settling on one of the comfy lounges.
I hear his slow footsteps. When my eyes slide up his body and land on his eyes, his expression is blank as ever. He waits.
I pat the cushion beside me with enthusiasm, but he just cocks his head.
Sticking my bottom lip out in a fake pout, I blink at him. “Do you want me to beg?”
A soft growl forms in his throat, and I take it as a yes.
“Please, baby,” I murmur, blinking up at him. “Let me draw on you. I promise I’ll make it feel so, so good for you.”
His nostrils flare and I can’t help but giggle.
Without another word, he sits. Back ramrod straight, hands on thighs, making sure not to touch me.
But that just will not do.
Sliding closer, I nestle my thigh against his, feeling him stiffen when we touch.
I reach for his arm, heart clenching when I see the burns and scars there. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over the bottomless rage at seeing them, but for his sake, I swallow my reactions. Just above his ravaged wrists is a small patch of skin without ink.
“Can I draw on you?” I whisper again, glancing up at him.
His eyes are lasered in on where I touch him, muscles stiff under the damaged skin.
He swallows twice before he speaks, his voice rough as sandpaper. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
I suck in a short breath. This man will be the death of me. So fucking sexy.
Tamping down the heat building through my body, I glance down at the skin again.
“What do you want?”
He doesn’t meet my gaze, locked on the spot where we are connected.
“Anything,” he grits through clenched teeth.
If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was in pain.
Anything? Oh boy, he’s going to regret that...
“Okay, well, you can’t watch then,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks heat.
I haven’t been nervous about giving a tattoo like this since my first. My heart pitter-patters and l my hands go clammy.
Still, he doesn’t take his eyes off where I hold him.
Sighing, I push up from the couch, searching through the kitchen, giggling when I see a black tea towel. Perfect.
I move towards him, holding it up, and he finally looks up. His gaze flicks from the tea towel to me, then back again.
“Roxy,” he bites out.
My smile is wicked as I come up behind him. “Please... for me,” I plead, sugary sweet.
Although he tenses, he doesn’t stop me from tying it around his eyes. Having him like this has dirty thoughts coming to mind, but I shake them off and go back to my seat, picking up the gun.
“No cocks,” he mutters.
My movements halt, and my eyes widen. Then I throw my head back and laugh. An easy, carefree laugh that feels so fucking good.
“Kai...” I wheeze, “did you just make a joke?”
From under the tea towel, I see his lips curve, just a fraction, and my heart warms a degree.
Okay, focus, Roxy.
Dipping the needle into the ink, I bite my lip to stifle my laugh. Because the perfect idea just popped into my mind. So I start, my first line permanently altering his skin.
As soon as the needle connects to him, he lets out a small exhale of breath. I continue, half watching the needle, half searching for his reactions.
The steady buzz of the machine vibrates through me, and before long, I fall into the rhythm I’ve missed so much. Every few seconds I wipe away the ink, watching the drawing slowly form.
He fidgets, just a tiny adjustment of where he sits. But it’s enough to draw my attention. His cock is straining against his pants, thick and pressing against the material.
My mouth waters, my eyes just about rolling into the back of my head. After. First, I need to finish this tattoo.
My first of many on him, I hope.
Seeing all the other drawings on his skin makes me jealous, which is ridiculous. Some primal thing inside me does backflips at the thought of marking him permanently with a slice of me.
It’s only a small tattoo and before long, it’s done. I’m almost disappointed because it feels so good getting lost in creating something for him.
“Finished,” I whisper.
I know I’m good at what I do, but as I set the machine down, nerves tingle in my fingertips. What if he hates it? What if he’s mad about what I chose to draw?
Using his other hand, he slides the tea towel off his head, dark eyes and long lashes boring into me.
My cheeks heat and I can barely hold his gaze. Holding my next breath, he lifts his arm, turning his inner wrist towards him.
Every second he studies it, my stomach twists itself into knots. His thumb drifts over the fresh ink, tracing the shape.
He gives me nothing. No reaction. Not one.
“Kai...” I start, my confidence wavering. “I’m sorry if it’s not good...”
His eyes cut to me.
“A sun...” he whispers.
I nod, my eyes dropping to the tattoo. A little sun, like his nickname Sunshine.
But it’s delicate, sitting on the inside of his wrist, its fine black lines and soft shading blending into the darker tattoos that climb his arm.
Delicate rays stretch from the face at its centre, a bit of light amongst all the shadows.
Looking at in now, I realise I made a mistake.
Of course he wouldn’t like this.
He’s a Devil.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, embarrassment burning me from the inside out.
His lip parts, his thumb continuing to trace it.
“It’s perfect,” he whispers.
My eyes shoot to his, widening. His eyes don’t leave the tattoo, even for a second. He turns his wrist, catching the light from the huge windows, studying the fine lines.
“I’ve never...” His voice trails off.
“What?” I press, leaning closer to him, desperate for anything he wants to tell me.
Desperate to know him.
“No one has ever thought of me as anything other than broken,” he whispers, finally looking up at me. My chest feels heavy, and I don’t dare speak. Don’t dare break the spell. “Even Kaleb.”
The backs of my eyes burn, and I crawl on top of him, nuzzling his nose with mine.
“You are not broken, Kai,” I whisper against his lips. “You are my sunshine.”
The words spill out of me, more true than anything I’ve ever said. His eyes search mine with the intensity they always hold. Dissecting everything he sees, searching for the lie.
He won’t find one.
My lips find his in a kiss so gentle it almost hurts. I whimper, deepening it. Needing him more than I need my next breath.
My body begins to grind over his until his hard length presses insistently against my core. Sliding my fingers into his hair, I grip the black strands.
He’s stiff beneath me, hands refusing to hold me back.
“Touch me, Kai,” I plead, hips writhing on top of him. “Please.”
He doesn’t, though. Why won’t he touch me? I bite down on his lip until a grunt falls from them.
“I can’t,” he murmurs.
A frustrated huff falls from me, but I don’t give up. Kissing him like I’m starved for him, because I am, I reach between us, gripping his massive erection. Involuntarily, he bucks into my hand, and I squeeze harder.
“I need you,” I breathe, working him through his pants, his heat and scent enveloping me.
“I can’t,” he grits out, louder this time.
“Yes, you can,” I growl back, hands fumbling with his zipper until his warm flesh lands in my palm.
He can’t deny wanting me. It’s right here, hard and swollen and aching.
I slide my palm up his length and back down, and he hisses through his teeth again, eyes darkening.
“Not without Kaleb,” he says, and his voice takes on a slightly panicked tone.
Fuck that.
Even though it’s near impossible from this angle, I maneuver my tights past my ass, until my wet pussy can grind on his length, coating him with my arousal. I’m lost in a haze of need, and I need him inside of me.
Need to feel him stretching me and taking me. Need to be as close to him as physically possible.
“Roxy.”
His voice breaks, but I don’t stop.
One flick of his hips and he could be buried deep inside me. I need it.
“Please,” I beg breathlessly.
With a sharp gasp, his hand is around my throat, and I’m being flipped onto my back on the couch. So fast and hard the wind knocks the wind from my lungs.
He stands, tucking himself into his pants, faster than I can draw in my next breath. “I can’t!” he hisses, eyes cold. My eyes glance at his hands, curling into fists. “It’s too dangerous.”
Disappointment has me glued to the couch as he turns his back and walks away, the front door slamming behind him a second later. I stare after him, letting every doubt creep its way into my head.
But fuck that.
Drawing in slow breath, I push myself to my feet and pull my clothes back into place, ignoring the needy throbs in my core.
I trust him. And that has to be enough.
Without thinking, I march up the stairs to his apartment. He’s probably not even there. But I won’t let him run away from me. Not after everything we just shared.
“Kai!” I yell, fist bashing against the door. “Open the fucking door!”
Not waiting for a response, I try the handle, and it slides open. I don’t need to search for long because they are both here.
My mouth opens in a scream when I see them. Kai is on his knees with his shirt off. Kaleb standing over him with a belt in his hand, cocked in the air and ready to strike.
“There she is,” Kaleb drawls, eyes narrowing on me as if I’m the one attacking his brother.
Kai seems lost in a world of pain. His entire body trembles, sweat coating the scars and tattoos. A different man that just left me. A different man who just left me. A different man who sat with me while I drew on his skin. A different man who shared a piece of himself. A completely different man.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, taking a step back.
Kaleb’s smirk turns cruel. Violent. “I’m beating you out of him.”
The irony of coming here to yell at Kai for running away from me, to then run away from him, isn’t lost on me. My boots thud against the stairs, hands gripping the railing as dizziness spins in my head.
The door to the club crashes open, and I see the exact person I need right now.
“Leon,” I gasp, falling into the booth next to him. “Tell me you weren’t lying about all that drugging and poison stuff.”
He eyes me curiously, shutting his laptop closed.
“I wasn’t lying,” he replies, tilting his head.
“Good. I need your help.”