THIRTY-SEVEN
Aliya
PRESENT
After Milan and I did it again in the showers of the Davis Grand Circuit, we left the grounds through the back entrance to avoid running into his friends and cheering fans.
But instead of taking me home, he surprised me with a ride to St. Claire Shores, a place I never thought I’d visit.
When we reached his family’s cabin, our hunger was insatiable. We explored every corner, from the cool granite countertop to the cozy couch, and finally lost ourselves between the sheets of the bed.
I never expected that one day I would be so obsessed with one of the Legions. But now, I can’t seem to keep my hands off him.
And just as he has conquered my body, he is slowly starting to claim my heart as well.
Right now, I’m tracing my fingers over the tattoos on his chest while lying on him in his T-shirt.
“Does the feather have a meaning?” I caress the black tattoo.
He hums softly. “It does.”
His hand gently touches my fingers. “It stands for freedom.”
“Freedom from what?” I ask curiously.
He pauses for a moment, considering his words. “From expectations, restrictions, responsibilities and constraints.”
As I absorb his words, my thoughts race and the image of his mother hurting him as a child comes back to me. Since reading about it in Kilian’s letter, I can’t shake this thought from my mind.
And I realize there are more hells and nightmares than the ones I’ve endured.
Suddenly so much makes sense – his tendency to run away from any kind of expectation or restriction, his fear of commitments and attachments, his constant need for total freedom and independence.
I know what it feels like to lose a parent at an early age.
But I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone because they took their own life – let alone try to drag you to death with them.
Not once, but twice.
My own pain pales in comparison to the extent of his suffering.
And maybe that’s why Kilian saved me back then when I also tried to end my life. He lost his mother to suicide.
According to my research, the media reports that Melanie Shane suffered from borderline personality disorder. Yet her suicide seems to be a mystery, as her cause of death is classified as a traffic accident.
I realize she must have been a deeply disturbed person, and it’s understandable that Kilian dislikes her, considering all the things she did.
Kilian doesn’t want Milan to know about these letters, and it’s not my place to disregard his wish.
And maybe it’s for the best.
It’s clear that there are facets of their mother’s personality that Milan has never seen, a more devilish side that haunts this family and has left deep scars on their souls. The thought of what revealing of this truth could do to him makes my heart ache.
Sometimes it’s better to keep certain secrets hidden.
“And the tattoo on your neck? Can I see it?”
In reality, I want to see the scar that adorns his back. The scar he suffered from the car accident with his mother.
He is silent for a moment, his body tensing under my touch. “Sure.”
Milan shifts beneath me, turning onto his stomach so that I can sit on his lower back. As I lean in to study the tattoo, my gaze inevitably falls on the scar that runs down his back. The scar has healed into a pale, jagged line.
Even though I never knew Melanie Shane, the sight of the marks she left on Milan stirs a strange feeling of revulsion in me.
How could she do this to her own flesh and blood?
“Where did you get that?” I ask softly, tracing the line of the scar with my fingertips.
His muscles tense. “I don’t remember.”
He’s lying. But I don’t call him out on it.
Each of us has our own demons we don’t want to talk about.
Instead, I lean down and press my lips against his scar. He lets out a shaky breath.
“Aliya,” he murmurs low. “What are you doing?”
I press a trail of gentle kisses along the scar and feel the rough texture of his skin against my lips.
“It must have hurt,” I whisper. “I’m trying to ease your pain.”
The tension in his body begins to dissolve under my touch.
He looks so vulnerable , so naked.
I’ve never seen him like this.
I continue exploring every inch of his skin. Suddenly, he flips over, pulling me beneath him and towering over me.
“Damn it, Aliya. I can’t think straight when you do things like this.” His fingers trace my jawline, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I can’t control myself.”
“Good,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to control yourself.”
His eyes darken. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“I’m not scared.”
Milan lets his fingers wander down my neck, his touch sparking electricity through my body. “Are you trying to drive me insane?”
My lips curl into a smile. “Haven’t I already?"
His gaze shifts to my cheek. I feel a sudden tension in his body as if the sight of my dimple has completely disarmed him.
And then his eyes soften.
“You know,” he starts. “That dimple is going to get you in trouble.”
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “It’s like a fucking seduction.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” I murmur. “To seduce you.”
He hums softly, his eyes still hypnotized by my cheek. “Well, it’s working.”
A hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I should’ve known you were up to no good.”
“What can I say? I like getting under your skin.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I want to get burned.”
Milan’s eyes narrow, his lips so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin.
I close my eyes, believing he’s going to kiss me, but instead, I feel the cool air on my skin as he laughs and pulls away, leaving me alone on the bed. I open my eyes and watch him sit on the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette.
That’s embarrassing.
I also get out of bed and walk around the cabin, taking in the charming details. The wooden floors feel rough under my bare feet, and the walls are made of logs, giving the place a rustic flair. The windows are small but let in just enough light to brighten the room.
I lean closer to the window and look outside. The St. Clair River flows gently in the background, dark clouds rolling in the distance. It looks like rain is coming on the horizon. A large lighthouse stands on the shore, but its lights are off. Not a soul is in sight.
I turn away from the window and glance back at Milan.
The way he sits on the edge of the bed, smoking and watching me is so attractive.
“Does the whole area belong to the Shanes?”
He takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales a plume of smoke. “My family owns most of the land here. This cabin was built by my grandfather.”
“So, you own all this land, and no one else knows about this cabin?”
He shrugs as he raises the cigarette back to his lips. “It’s a private retreat. We used to spend our summers here often. As a family.”
Family.
The fact that his mother hurt him as a child, his father always seems busy, and his brother is in another state gives the impression that he’s alone. Lonely.
I don’t have a great relationship with my mother either, but at least she would never try to end my life.
“And the lighthouse?” I ask, gesturing toward the window.
At the mention of the lighthouse, a shadow passes over Milan’s face. His expression hardens, and he takes another deep drag of his cigarette.
“The lighthouse … It also belongs to my family.”
“Isn’t it operational anymore?”
Milan nods and flicks the ash from his cigarette. “It hasn’t been in operational since my grandfather passed away. There’s another lighthouse a little further north.”
I nod slowly, absorbing the information.
“Since it hasn’t been in operational, my family used it as a lookout tower whenever we were here.”
“That must be nice,” I mumble.
“What? The lighthouse? Not really.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by his response. “Why not?”
“It’s just a rusty old building. I’ve never liked it.”
“But the view must be incredible,” I say, looking out the window at the lighthouse in the distance.
“Sure, the view is okay.” Sarcasm laces his voice.
“Do you still have access to it? Can I go up?” I ask.
He freezes. “Over my dead body.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not safe,” he says coldly. “The stairs are falling apart, the railing is broken, and the whole damn thing is a death trap. I’m not letting you anywhere near it.”
“Just because you’re afraid of heights,” I throw in ironically.
He glares at me, a flash of anger in his eyes, and I realize my comment hit a nerve.
“Wait,” I speak in disbelief. “You really have a fear of heights?”
He scowls and avoids my gaze. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I can tell I’ve struck a nerve with my question, even if he won’t admit it. And honestly, it’s kind of funny to see the unpredictable Milan Shane being afraid of heights. How cute.
But then something occurs to me. “But you climbed onto my balcony. My bedroom is on the second floor.”
“First of all, I don’t have a fear of heights.” Milan shoots me another look, his eyes narrowing even more. “And second, your balcony isn’t a fucking lighthouse. There’s a big difference between climbing onto a balcony and entering that death trap.”
I laugh at his denial and push myself off the wall. “I’ve always been drawn to high places. The thrill of standing on the edge and feeling the wind in your face … I like it.”
“Good for you,” he says grumpily. “I don’t share your affection for the sky.”
“You always seemed so fearless.” I push off the wall and walk toward him. “But you have a real weakness for heights, huh?”
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me onto his lap. I let out a small yelp of surprise.
He clicks his tongue. “I have more of a weakness for cheeky brats with a big mouth.”
I feel a warm blush spreading across my cheeks. His eyes are dark and intense, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine.
Trying to change the subject, I attempt to distract him and myself from the growing desire bubbling inside me.
“So, uh … This cabin must mean a lot to you if you spent your summers here.”
“You could say that.”
I can’t help my curiosity and finally ask the question that’s been swirling in my head for a while.
“What about your brother? Did he spend the summers here too?”
His expression shifts at my question, and I sense his body tense slightly beneath me.
“Yeah. He spent every summer here with me.”
It’s strange. The way his mood drops every time we talk about Kilian.
“Don’t you get along with him?” I ask cautiously.
His grip on my hips tightens. I can feel the mood shift in him, and I know I’m treading on dangerous ground.
“There was a time when we were really close.” His voice is cold. “But it’s complicated. We’re very different and disagree on many things.”
And I can imagine what he’s talking about.
Kilian’s hatred and Milan’s love for their mother. That has probably always created a rift between them.
“But you still talk to each other, don’t you?”
Even if they hold different opinions, they’re brothers. And even though Milan doesn’t know anything about it, I’m sure Kilian’s brotherly love for Milan is something very big.
Milan furrows his brows, confused by my question, but then lets out a breath. “Yeah. After all, we’re brothers. We talk from time to time.”
How would he react if I told him that his older brother Kilian is my hero Lio?
As I ponder this, something else strikes me.
My longing to find Lio is practically nonexistent now.
Maybe it’s because I know his true identity now and that he’s doing well, or maybe it’s because I have his letters with me.
I look at Milan, who is regarding me with his head tilted.
Or maybe the younger brother has simply filled the void in my life that the older one left behind.