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My body melted against him as my hands went around his waist. I clung to him as I drank in his kiss. I made a greedy noise in the back of my throat that I was sure I'd be embarrassed about when I thought about it later.

"What, are you trying to eat her?" Rain's low, menacing growl filled the room, bringing me back to reality. "How about you get your hands the fuck off my daughter before I remove them for you."

I shoved on Quinton's chest as I broke our kiss. His mouth went to my neck where he placed a chaste kiss—well, chaste in comparison to the last one. He let me go and, without backing up much, turned around to face down my father. The look on his face was downright frightening, I don't think I'd ever seen him look so mad before.

I grabbed on to the back of this t-shirt as I leaned around him, seeking out Rain. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, eyes focused solely on Quinton. Quinton who stood in front of me like a shield.

"Oh my god," I breathed out as I shoved Quinton out of my way. He grunted as I jumped off the countertop and ran toward Rain.

I skidded to a stop in my fuzzy socks in front of him as he continued to send death vibes via his glare in Quinton's direction.

"I can see your tattoos," I cried happily, excited as I reached out to touch his arms.

To my surprise, he didn't jerk away but stood stoically still while I examined the ink covering his forearms. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Black and white covered almost every inch of skin in designs and markings that I didn’t recognize but still found oddly beautiful.

"How old were you when you got your first tattoo?" I asked curiously, probing for any kind of information about himself I could possibly squeeze out of Rain Kimber. My father was still very much a mystery to me, and though he was willing to tell me all about my mother and my grandfather, he kept a lot of things about himself to himself. It was very frustrating and sometimes I wanted to force the answers out of him. He wouldn't let me get away with keeping things from him, he gave me those cold eyes and I couldn't help myself from giving him whatever he wanted in order to make those icy eyes melt back to something closer to human.

"I got my first tattoo when I was five," he shared.

I dropped my hands away from him and stumbled back a step. "Wh-what?" I stuttered. Five? Had I heard that right? That sounded a lot like child abuse if you asked me.

He eyed me warily.

His voice was very careful when he asked, "What is it that bothers you so much about this? If you had stayed with me, then you would have received a tattoo long before now and I assure you, you would wear it with pride."

I had no doubt about what he said, but, the thing was, Ihadn'tgrown up with Rain, I'd grown up differently and that led me to seeing things from a different perspective than the people in my life.

"What I don't understand is why you'd get something permanent on your body at such a young age," I told him honestly. "From everything I've heard, tattoos hurt. What type of loving parent is okay with hurting their child in such a way? Wouldn't that make them not really all that loving in the first place?"

What the hell did I know about having a loving parent and how they interacted with their children? I eyed the man in front of me. Too bad I was no longer a child or perhaps I might be able to answer my own question.

"It's a part of our culture that I fear you will never understand until you have children of your own and have lived amongst your own kind for a good, long while," Rain informed me.

My upper lip curled in distaste.

"I never plan on having children," I shared, hoping he never brought up the subject again.

After the things I'd gone through, the things I'd been forced to endure thanks to my Aunt Viv, there was no way in hell I would ever bring another innocent life into this world just so someone could have the opportunity to one day abuse them. Not the most positive outlook, I'll admit that, but it was the only one I was capable of. Maybe things would change with age, but it wasn't something I'd ever hold my breath and hope for.

"What?" Rain asked quietly with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I know you're young—"

"Drop it," Quinton cut in, his voice taking on a hint of defeat. "This is something she refuses to budge on and something I refuse to hear you pressure her over or argue with her about. Maybe in a few years you can approach this subject again but, until then, you leave this be."

"And if I don't?" Rain challenged.

My body stiffened as I took another step back, away from my father, a man I could never be afraid of but, at the moment, I was starting to get angry with. Why the hell he felt the need to fight everyone all the time, I would never understand.

"Then you'll be asked to leave my home and not be invited back."

My eyes rounded in shock at this and had me whipping around toward Quinton.

The look in those dark eyes that were aimed at my father were so far from friendly they were downright hostile, and I had an alarming urge to move to the side, hiding my father from his sight. I would never do that though, never choose between them, and I hoped neither of them ever expected me to. You should never do that to the people you loved and it would be one of the quickest ways to prove they were selfish, narcissistic assholes.

"I don't want to have kids, ever," I told Rain honestly, the words startling me. "As you well know, I didn't have the best upbringing. I'll not risk an innocent child, not ever."

Rain flinched and my heart dropped down to my stomach.

Fuck.