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He kicks off his shoes, removing his hoodie until he’s in a white tee with rips in it. I can see all of his tattoos now. So many tattoos. I really like them. While he’s reaching for the throw that sits as decoration at the end of the bed, I try to focus my eyes on the art that’s skillfully inked into his skin, thanks to Medusa’s light allowing me to do so. I love any form of art. Tattoos are no exception.
He’s lying back onto the other pillow when he rolls to the side, his eyes colliding with mine. “She wasn’t supposed to leave again.”
My brows furrow and it takes me a second to catch the meaning behind his words. Madison. “Again?”
Bishop chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t even fuckin’ know why I’m talking to you about this. I don’t talk to anyone about her.” He pauses, catches his breath before whispering, “Or maybe I do know.”
“She always leaves you?” I further pry, snuggling into my warm covers.
“She’s a runner.” He yawns, his jaw clenching. “Every time shit gets hard, she fucking runs.”
“And you don’t like that?”
“I don’t fucking need it. I’m taking the gavel in two months. I need her to be strong, or vulnerable, or whatever, but it needs to be beside me.”
“Just because she runs, doesn’t mean she’s not strong, Bishop.”
He studies me closely. Too closely. He searches my face like he’s trying to solve a crime. “How so?”
“You are obviously in love with each other.”
“Eh, I’d call it an obsession—”
I glare at him.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we are, but it’s toxic.”
A soft yawn escapes my mouth. “Doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t care who it destroys to get what it wants.”
“Back to what you were saying.”
I yawn, my eyes feeling heavy. “Well, not many people have the strength to run away from someone they love.”
“You don’t know the full story.” His voice is distant, so distant I almost think I imagined it.
“Lucky we have a full lifetime for you to tell me.”
There was cocaine lined out on a glass coffee table. Deftones “Changes” blasted through the night, while a bonfire licked warmth all over my skin. I was in a daze, grabbing the hundred-dollar bill from the guy who drove, who I now know is Bishop, and brought it to my nose, sniffing the line down in one go. I flopped backward onto the three-seater bean bag that was behind me, Brantley now with the leash.
I turned to face him, but he hooked his hoodie up over his head and leaned back on the sofa, his eyes going to the sky.
I handed him the rolled-up dough. “Want a hit?”
He didn’t pay me any attention, not even a glance, or a simple acknowledgment. As if I wasn’t worthy of him. Which admittedly, I’d come to feel I wasn’t. In my town, I felt on top of the world. I ran that shit. These boys were so far beyond all of that.
“I don’t fuck with drugs.”
Another guy passed me, snatching the funnel off me and bringing it to his nose. “Brantley doesn’t party, party…”
I turned to face him more, resting my fist on my cheek. I was intrigued by him. I thought that much was painfully obvious. Bishop was on the other side of me, puffing on a cigarette. “What are you into?”
Finally, Brantley turned his face to me and suddenly I felt like I shouldn’t have asked. “You’ll find out soon enough. The night is still young.” Laughter clapped out around me, but it wasn’t coming from Brantley or Bishop, it was from the rest of the guys who had joined our circle. Suddenly I realized how fucked I might be. I was alone at a party I didn’t know with people I didn’t know.
My eyes flew up to the rest of the party that had spilled out over a basketball court. “I might go find a drink.” As soon as I was on my feet, Brantley tugged on the lead and I was falling back onto the bean bag.
He wrapped the chain around his wrist until there was none left and tugged on it, bringing my face closer to his. “Just to be clear, you shouldn’t have put my dick in your mouth tonight, but you really, really shouldn’t have jumped into Bishop’s car.”
Brantley
Past
“Son, you know what to do,” Lucan said from somewhere behind the camera that was clipped onto a tripod. The room was the same as always. At the same place. I knew Lucan didn’t run this, that someone bigger was behind it. Someone sick and demented and someone who needed to be put down.
I shook my head. “No. Not her,” I growled, my teeth cracking under the pressure. “You will not touch her.”
Saint sat in the corner. She was nine years old and this was the first time she had come with Lucan. He was distracted before then, because of the little Swan, but now he wanted Saint, and he wanted her bad.