Page 39 of Seven Graves

Both the driver and passenger seat windows are rolled halfway down, and the cool night air feels like heaven on my skin after everything we just did in the back of this hearse.

I’m still trying to wrap my rattled mind around the fact that it happened.

We’ve barely spoken to each other in the last few minutes, probably a great deal from fucking exhaustion, and the rest from absolute uncertainty.

I don’t even smoke and I’m craving a cigarette.

I gripped the old, woodgrain steering wheel with one hand, letting my elbow rest on the window and the wind cool the sweat still lingering in my likely god-awful just fucked hair.

That book ain’t got shit on what we just did back there.

I can feel his cum leaking out of me, reminding me of the way he looked when he pulled out, sliding down my battered body, and spreading my legs wide open just to see it dripping out of my obliterated pussy.

He looked so fucking gone. So poetically damaged.

I watched him lean down with this smile that sins are made of, pressing a kiss an unveiled bride would get on my cunt before gathering his cum on his fingers and shoving it back inside.

It might be the most depraved, incredibly erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life .

But that was minutes after he laid his head on my chest, breathing hard and smoothing the lace of my bra aside, slowly kissing every inch of my right breast. It felt like—like love .

Or maybe just gratitude? I know better, obviously…

but it was… different . Gentle. So at odds with the person I’m getting to know.

He kissed my mouth the same way for several minutes after that, and…

and I was kind of fucking lost in it. I’m not sure what to even think about any of it.

And we didn’t talk about it. I’m not sure what to say.

Lucky for me, Malek Byrne finds it impossible to keep his trap shut for very long.

“Hey, Viper?”

I kept my eyes on the moonlit road, choosing not to risk conveying any of these wandering thoughts with an overly observant man that I’m trying to tell myself I’m not falling for. It’s just the sex. That’s what I’m going with. “Hmm?”

“That tattoo down your spine. What’s it mean?”

I smiled, tilting my head into my hand. I could feel his curious, stupid eyes on me. “I got pissed off a couple years ago after a really bad date, so I decided to get him back for it.”

“Tell me that’s not some fucking bloke’s name on your back.”

I smiled wider. “Worse. I probably should have told you before, though.”

“…T-told me, what? ”

Oh, this is too easy. And hateful. But I’m not missing this opportunity.

“There was this old lady that people used to believe was a witch in town. She’s not alive anymore, unfortunately.

Anyways, I asked her to give me a good curse to tattoo on my back.

She was happy to do it. She’s never had much luck with men, either.

” After a beat of silence, I glanced over at Malek, who looked like he was about to puke.

Irish men are so fucking superstitious, it’s actually insane. But damn if it isn’t fun for me.

“What. Does. It. Mean?”

“It means that if you’re unfortunate enough to blow my back out, and you try to read it, your dick will shrivel up like a sun-dried veggie and eventually fall off.

” His hand slowly dropped to his lap, and he swallowed, adjusting the crotch of his jumpsuit.

I tried my hardest not to laugh as I looked back at the road.

“Is there a way outta this? Every curse has a fix, right?”

I nodded. “She said if you drink down a mixture of curdled milk, a raw egg, pickle juice and pepper, hop backwards on one foot before sunrise, and manage to do all that without throwing up? Then, you should be okay.” He almost didn’t let me finish before he jerked forward, resting his hand on the dash.

“How many times did she say to jump?”

I couldn’t deal. I burst out laughing, leaning over the steering wheel and nearly running us off the road. Malek startled like he was about to shit himself, gaping at me with his brows so close together they might as well have been a uni.

“I’m fucking with you, dude!” I heaved, wiping one of my eyes with my sleeve.

He shook his head in utter disappointment, uttering something in Irish that I didn’t bother to understand.

I finally calmed myself, relaxing back into my seat and he sat, staring out the window with his arms crossed.

“It’s just a quote. One of my first tattoos, actually.

I got it before I went to college. But I did get it while I was pissed off. That part was true, at least.”

“What’s it say?”

“Animae cuique sua unicitas. Rosae cuique spina. Ambae pares sua pulchritudine.” I sighed to myself, glancing over at him. “To each soul, its own uniqueness. To each rose a thorn. Both equal in their own beauty.” His eyes suddenly looked two shades greener.

“They gave you hell, didn’t they.” Not a question. Not really. More of an affirmation to himself, I gathered. I tightened my mouth before forcing a smile.

“They did, until I learned how to use their weapon of choice as a way to love myself. I see the world differently than they do. I choose to believe it’s why they’re so fucking boring.”

“It’s more than that, Seven. It’s why none of them ever deserved to see you so much as walk into a room. Or breathe the same air. Kinda makes me wish it was a curse on your fucking back.”

I looked one last time at him, feeling a knot gather in my throat. “Why?”

“Because any man lucky enough to have even a taste of what you just gave me in the back of this hearse? If they didn’t see you for the wonder that you are…they deserve to have their cock snap off.” I looked away, swallowing.

“Wise words from the mob hit man?” I smiled softly, trying not to tear up. He only made it worse.

“No. From a man that knows exactly who the fuck I’m riding with…and how lucky that man is. Irish or not.”

Bitch, keep your shit together for three more miles.

“Thank you…”

“Eh. Don’t thank me yet. We still gotta see if you have an outbreak. You might hate me in a week.” I shot my head towards him.

“Excuse me?!”

He shamefully bit down on a knuckle and turned his face away. “Probly a bad time to tell ya ‘bout the herps, right?” I balled my fist up and started blindly swinging, making contact with everything but his face. He was smart to cover his infected manhood .

“ I’m kidding! TRUCE! I’m fucking kidding! Bleedin’ Christ! ” He cackled, warding me off. “I’m just bustin’ ‘yer balls for the curse. You can’t tell me you didn’t deserve that.”

I totally do.

“My God…I cannot believe I just fucked you.”

“Ah, but did you?” he grinned like an utter ass.

“Malek, I will make you into a pretty little speed bump.” He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek.

“At least you think I’m pretty.”