Page 28

“We ordered food,” one of the guys points out. He has colorful tattoos all over his arms and creeping up his neck.

“That’s not the kind of starved I have in mind. I’m anxious to get home.”

Tarynn punches him in the shoulder and leans in so Dravin can see her. “Don’t listen to him. You take as much time as you need.”

Crow nods and turns to me. “Seriously though, let me know if I need to call someone. The guys at the club, our club physician. The ice cream delivery guy. You name it, we’ll have it here for you.”

“The ice cream delivery guy?” Someone scoffs from behind me. It’s the other guy. The one also covered in ink, including along both sides of his face near the temples and down over the jawline.

“I’m sure some place would deliver. We could order a cake,” Crow responds dryly.

“Can we do that anyway?”

“Okay. Come on. All of you. What Dravin probably needs is air.”

“Are you implying that I don’t smell good, Tarynn? I’m wounded.”

Her laughter echoes down the hallway as the three men leave with her. Their voices are still loud from the front. Homey. It reminds me that we’re not alone. I’m not alone.

You’ve never been truly alone. Even in your worst moments.

“Dravin.” My hands hover, looking for a place to land that isn’t going to hurt. I distract myself by walking around to check out the damage. Literally.

The ink starts right under Dravin’s hairline and continues all the way down.

And down. And down. They tattooed straight over his scars.

I see what they meant about him being wrapped up.

His whole back is covered in tight plastic.

It’s probably some kind of medical bandage thing that they stuck on, but it looks like Saran wrap.

It keeps going, dipping down into his jeans.

I wince. He’s probably sitting on it after he’s been carved up.

I can’t imagine how much pain would be involved in getting your back, ass, and upper thighs done.

I don’t know how far they took it, but obviously far enough.

Now I understand why Crow turned up Dravin’s chin, which was kind of weird, instead of clapping him on the shoulder.

I have zero impulse control. Dravin doesn’t look good, but he’ll be okay. I was cycling through the worst possible scenario over and over in my head.

Imagination is a terrible thing.

He never allowed me to look up any of the stories they ran about Marcus and his club.

I have no doubt, there were probably many.

He said that the only thing seeing photos or reading shit like that would do was haunt me.

I have no doubt he was right. That wasn’t the kind of closure I wanted or needed.

I bend down, grasping Dravin’s knees and kiss his forehead. He jerks back and can’t help a sharp inhale of pain.

“God, Kael. I’m pathetic right now. This is mortifying.”

“Yeah, your body reacting to a giant wound and a fuckton of trauma after getting tattooed by four different people for an entire day is super embarrassing.”

There’s a bottle of apple juice on a giant tool chest at the back of the room. It’s still cold. I shake it up and take a sip. Several suckers were set out by the bottle. I tear the wrapper off the red one, and groan when the sweetness bursts over my tongue.

“I’m so glad this isn’t strawberry. I hate that flavor. It’s sacrilege to make a red sucker any flavor other than cherry.”

I take the trash from him and set it down then shove the juice in his direction. “So you didn’t like orange. Give this a try.”

“I don’t want anything.”

He’s shaking . It’s getting worse, not better. The table is going to go through the wall if he keeps shivering like that.

“Dray. Come on. You had basic medical training in the military. You know you’ve got to get sugar into you.”

He’s not so far gone that he can’t give me a solid stink eye. “Do not Dray me.”

I twirl the sucker between my thumb and index finger before popping it back into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, letting him watch everything. “If you keep refusing everything, I’m going to suck this real hard, pry open your mouth, and spit into it.”

He groans. “Why does that sound so hot?”

I pop the sucker into my mouth and unscrew the juice for him. “Please drink something. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I vomit right in front of you.”

“Yeah, well… semantics.”

“That’s not what semantics means.”

I’m torn between joking around like this because I think that’s what he needs and showing him worried I am to guilt him into doing what I want him to do. That sounds terrible in my head, so I keep working on him before I’m forced to go the slightly manipulative route.

“If you take a few sips of that and eat some noodles, you can eat me when you’re feeling better.”

“Kael!” He hisses, but he uncaps the juice anyway, spilling a good deal onto his jeans because he’s shaking like a small earthquake is wrenching him apart. He does get a few sips in before he tightens the cap.

“Want me to put some music on for you?”

“It’s on already. They asked me. I said punk.”

One of my eyebrows goes a little haywire before I can stop it. “You like punk?”

“What did you think I’d listen to?”

“Solely death metal,” I deadpan. It earns me a snort, so that’s some progress. I search around for the remove. “Why is there no volume?”

“There was, but they turned it off when you got here so that you wouldn’t have to rage at me over the noise. This way, you can just chew me out in your regular speaking voice.”

“How kind.”

I take the sucker from my mouth and slick it along his bottom lip. I make an animal sound under my breath at how hot it is to see his mouth go so red. As soon as his lips part to tell me to quit, I shove the sucker in.

I tilt his chin up, silencing his protests. “Seriously, Dravin. It would be nice to do some things halfway.”

He has to talk around the sucker and his words are adorably muffled. “It’s not in my blood.”

“I’m pretty sure your blood is now solidly thirty percent ink.”

“Probably at least ten percent metal too.”

“Death metal? I knew it.” I cup his face between my palms. “I’m worried, okay?

I’ll admit it. I nearly had a nervous breakdown when Tarynn called.

They were worried that you were having some kind of allergic reaction.

Just have a few bites and we’ll get you into bed and I can stop losing my mind a little bit. ”

Fuck, I said I wasn’t going straight for the manipulation, but I was wrong. Is there such a thing as good guilt?

“Sometimes you just have to let yourself hurt. Even if it feels like you’re going to tear out of your body and go insane, eventually, it’ll heal to the point where it’s bearable.”

My breath catches because I know he’s not talking about the tattoo. I instinctively change the subject. “Please tell me they gave you some numbing cream.”

He snorts.

“That’s what I thought.”

“They have good sprays.”

“You got your whole back and freaking ass done by four freaking people! Are you actually insane or do you just do these things because you think they’re funny ?”

“I mentioned that I wanted to get a tattoo. Crow joked that the best way to start is to jump right in. He had this beautiful piece he’d drawn.”

I change my angle so I can check out his back again. I’m more distracted by his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and rippling muscles.

“It’s smudged under the bandage. It might be clear, but it’s kind of bunched up. I don’t know. I can’t really see it.”

“You will.”

“Will I? The whole thing? Your ass too?”

He sighs. “That’s the last thing you should be doing.”

“But it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Stare at my rear?”

“Stare at it. Touch it. Taste it. Your cock too.”

“Kael!”

“Shhh. They’ll hear you. At least call me fucking Amy or whatever it is on that ID. Or Calliope.”

“I fucked up earlier. I said your name.”

He looks so miserable at the mistake that I swing around and kiss his forehead and his cheek. He stiffens, which starts off another round of hard shaking. I remove what’s left of the sucker and pass him the juice. “Drink some and then I’ll help you go get food.”

“I’m not feeling well enough.” I can see he likes admitting that just about as much as he would chain sawing his own leg off.

I stroke his arm, his skin cold and clammy under my palm. “I think you’ll feel a lot better if you power through it. You’ve probably done that six zillion times before. What’s different about this?”

He turns his face so that it looks like he’s staring me down with both eyes zeroed in. I have no idea how he does it, but it gives me both a cold chill and sexy goosebumps. “You.”

I lean in and brush my nose against his, whispering my eyelashes over the tip of it.

“If it’s going to make this easier for you, I can go, but I’d rather be here to take care of you like you’ve taken care of me all this time without me knowing the half of what you’ve done.

I’m not easily scared away by bodily fluids or the fact that literally fifty percent of your body is an open wound. ”

“More like thirty-five percent,” he grunts.

“I know you don’t want me to see you when you’re not a hundred percent yourself, and I’d feel the same way because being vulnerable is uncomfortable.

It’s just something you have to get used to.

” I reach for the juice and open it one more time, urging him to take a sip.

He does, though he nearly chokes on it before downing another.

“Anyway. Do you really think bodily fluids bother me when I just made a spit in your mouth comment?”

“Stop.” He arches into me though, nuzzling his face against my neck. I stroke his hair before I wrap my hand around the back of his head and hold him there. Even sweaty, and sick, he still smells good.

“I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but trusting you feels like the least dangerous thing out of everything I’ve done lately. Actually, it feels really fucking right.”

“ Stop .” This time, he’s begging.

“I’m going to spend tonight with you, even if I have to sleep in a chair or on the floor, or hang from the freaking ceiling like a goddamn vampire to make sure you’re okay.”

“Vampires sleep in coffins.”

“Fine. A bat then.”

“I’m okay,” he huffs. “You’re going to go back home and sleep in your own bed.”

“I guess I have two options.” I pull him closer, fisting his hair, whispering right by his ear. “I spend the night with you in a perfectly platonic, friendly way, or I hitchhike home.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Why would you hitchhike?”

“I could call for a cab and ask them to send me their creepiest driver because every so often, I enjoy feeling like I’m starring in a horror movie.”

“Kael,’ his voice is perfectly flat, bit brimming with just enough annoyance that he’s starting to sound like his old self. He’s also shivering less. Even that small amount of juice is helping. “I’ll ask Crow and Tarynn to take you home.”

“Sorry, darling, they’re going to be busy in short order. Remember what Crow said? Guess walking it is. I could always use the exercise.” I lean into him so that I’m practically sitting on his spread legs.

“Fine.” His hands land on my waist, half supporting me and half drawing me in.

I’m starting to learn that his ironclad control isn’t so ironclad. Neither is mine. Is that pathetic? I suppose that’s up to interpretation, but opinions are generally formed from that shit word again. Normal .

Maybe I am a romantic at heart because I kiss Dravin on the cheek, the nose, and chastely on his lips. He tries to guide me away, but I grasp his hands. “Let’s go. If I don’t get my wontons and baby corn, I’m going to be deeply disappointed.”

“It’s probably stone cold by now.” He frowns. “I’m sorry. It’s late. You must be starving.”

“I ate earlier. This is second supper.” I lock his hand between mine and impulsively bring his knuckles to my mouth and brush my lips over them, lapping at the raised scars. “This is your night to be taken care of. Stop worrying about me.”

“Not possible,” he mutters under his breath. He shoves off the table and lands on his feet, but sways. I catch him, but he balances himself too, throwing one bare foot out behind him.

Standing like that, with his jeans undone at the top, his veins standing out, muscles popping, abs even more defined than I’ve ever seen them, hair falling into his eyes, he looks exactly like a damn rockstar.

I quickly compose my face and remind myself to breathe , before he can see just how much I’m here for it.

“You’re so strange,” he huffs. It’s the last thing I expect to hear.

“How so?” I keep his hand in mine, locking our fingers tightly together so I can support him without it looking like I’m doing that. I also don’t want to wrap an arm around him or touch his back. He can’t even get his jeans all the way on he’s so tender.

“You could have anyone. Someone… beautiful.”

“Are you not beautiful?”

“Christ on a cracker.” His dry blasphemy makes me grin.

“If you don’t think so, I haven’t done my job.” We clear the doorway of the room, which feels like a massive progress. The hallway is long, but we can take all night to get there if that’s what Dravin needs. “Painting you.”

“I haven’t seen the painting.”

“I thought you enjoyed being living art.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes as we make our way down the hall. I steal a covert glance at him and realize that it’s not because he’s suffering, but because I’ve rendered him speechless. He has zero comebacks for that.

He did like it.

So did I.

It was the most erotic, breathtaking, transcendent experience of my life. He’s my favorite painting and I’ve barely started yet.

“I maintain that I wasn’t good looking even before all the scars and broken bones and getting sewn and stitched back together. My mouth is way too big. Kids used to bug me about it and dare me to stick shit inside to see how much it could fit.”

It’s probably a big red flag that I want to hunt down each and every one of those people and give their now adult selves a piece of my mind. I wonder what their big damn mouths could be forced to fit?

Whoa.

I need to relax. Going into full-on protective mode is also a red flag. A straight indicator that I’m way too far gone.

There’s normal and our lives and then there’s way too much, way too soon.

Try as I might, I can’t help but lean into him. I pretend that I’m holding him up, and because he’s a good man underneath all those layers he hides himself in, he lets me hold onto the illusion that he needs the support.