by P. Jameson
For now.
“Willya hold shtill?” Skittles grumbled around a roll of duct tape he held between his teeth. He and the one called Fang were trying to tape plastic around the boards they’d already nailed across the shattered windows while she swept up glass and stray bullets.
“Just tape the damn thing already, would ya?”
“I’m tryin’ ta figure the besht way.”
“The best way is with the tape attached to the fucking wall. This isn’t rocket science.”
She remembered Fang from when the Alley Cats rescued the Dolls. She got the feeling he used sarcasm to distract from whatever he really felt. And right now, they were all pretty shaken.
Most of the people in the warehouse were human and easily hurt by bullets. Or… humanlike anyway. From what she understood, all but the Dolls and Mama Kitty had once carried an animal inside them. Only a few lucky ones were getting new animals, and she still didn’t know how. Just that it had something to do with finding the girls.
Skittles moved the roll of tape from his mouth to his hands. “We can’t cover the whole window,” he argued, glaring at Fang.
“Why the fuck not? You planning on doing some stargazing or some shit?”
Skittles glanced at Nyla before answering through gritted teeth. “No covered windows.”
Her breath tangled in her chest. He didn’t want to block off the windows because he worried it would be too much like Bastian’s basement. And he knew she used to like staring out the window as a child. Dreaming.
He didn’t want her feeling trapped.
She swallowed hard.
He was just going to keep breaking her down with his thoughtfulness, wasn’t he?
Damn him.
Inside, her heart throbbed with too much feeling. Thank god no one could see it, how much she appreciated the man.
Payback. It worked both ways.
Somehow, she’d find a way to pay Skittles back for what he’d done for her.
“Fuck,” Fang spat. “Cover the goddamn window so I can go find a pussy to bang away at. You got yours, the rest of us are still suffering.”
With a snarl, Skittles dropped the roll of tape and shoved Fang hard in the chest, knocking him back against the wall with an explosive bang.
Oh shit.
He grabbed the front of Fang’s vest, balling it in his fist as the man’s knee jabbed upward, barely missing its mark between Skittle’s legs to land on his thigh instead.
Nyla set the broom aside and rushed forward to stop them.
“No,” she yelled, and both of them turned to stare at her.
Oh.
That was easier than she’d expected.
She let her hand fall softly on Skittles’s clenched forearm and it jerked under her touch. Meeting his fierce gaze, she raised her eyebrows, urging him without words to let Fang go. He narrowed his eyes, not liking the suggestion. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to do to his friend, but whatever it was definitely included a beatdown. And none of them needed that right now.
Bastian was the enemy. That anger needed to focus on him, not one another.
Skittles dropped his hold on Fang’s jacket and grudgingly moved away. Just to be safe, Nyla stepped between them, her hand still touching his arm because it seemed to be an anchor of some sort, bringing him back from a rage.
The same way he did for her with sex?
Something to sort through later.
“Don’t ever talk about her like that,” he growled over her shoulder at Fang. “You don’t understand yet.” He breathed hard, as if he wanted to start beating Fang all over again, but was holding it back. “When you do… when you find yours… you won’t speak of her like that. And fuck, you won’t let anyone else do it either. Understand me?”
Nyla could feel Fang’s anger like a wraith breathing down the back of her neck.
“Sure, yeah. Whatever you say.” He stomped toward the door, but Nyla didn’t turn to watch him go. “Oh, and by the way. Fuck you.”
She jumped when the door slammed and Skittles lunged forward like he was going to go after him.
Nyla stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Leave it,” she said.
“I don’t like how he’s acting,” he fumed. “He shouldn’t have said… what he said.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “He’s angry. I get it.”
He narrowed his eyes, watching her. But it was true. She knew better than anyone that anger could make you say things you didn’t mean. Do things you shouldn’t do.
Skittles gaze fell to where her hand pressed against his t-shirt and with his next exhale, she felt the frustration bleed out of him. His hand came up to cover hers and his brow furrowed as he looked at their connection. “I like you touching me, woman. Very much.”
Nyla swallowed down the way those words made her feel powerful, ready to deny anything feely. But her body pressed closer on its own.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand on her hip brought them flush. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she admitted.
“Need another bath? To relax?” He raised an eyebrow and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“No.” Baths were forever linked to what he’d done to her last night. Taking a bath meant she would probably get ‘needy’ as he liked to say. And then he would try to do something about it. And even though that sounded real damn good… she needed to stop letting him. “Let’s get the window taped up.”
She started to pull away but he stopped her.
“Wait.” With one hand under her chin, he tipped her face up, and with his other, he brushed her tight curls off her forehead. She thought he was going in for a kiss. And damn her, but she would’ve let him. A real kiss this time, not a hurried one brought on by mutual hate. But instead he murmured, “What color are your eyes?”
Nyla frowned, but when his expression turned expectant, she let off a small laugh. Was he making a joke?
“I can’t see color, and I’m dying to know. Will you tell me?”
His admission left her blinking.
“You can’t see color?”
Skittles shook his head.
“At all?” Nyla couldn’t imagine it.
“Just gray tones. Sometimes a bit of beige will come through. I’ll blink and think I see red for a moment. But mostly, nothing.”
Ironic, considering all the color on his body. Was that why he had such brilliant tattoos? Did… did he even know how amazing they were?
“What happened to make you… like that?”
“When I was very young, I remember seeing normal. I remember colors. Blue and yellow. Red. And all the shades in between. I remember what color I favored. I remember it all. But at some point, things changed. I don’t remember that part. But I know it happened when I was trained.”
“Trained?”
He gave a nod, his eyes tight. “The Fathers called it training. It was the process of hardening us to prepare for what would be expected of us later as Alley Cats.”
“And what did they do to train you?” But she already had an idea, because he’d mentioned it before. And the mere thought turned her stomach. “The beatings?”
“Yes, mate.”
Nyla swallowed hard. “O-okay.”
She imagined Skittles as a small boy, a dreamer like she’d been, abused so thoroughly there was nothing left of his imagination. Not even the ability to see color. But that was totally true, was it? He’d created a living temple of artwork right there on his body. As if the tattoos were the stained glass, depicting a history that could never be snuffed out.
Like the poem he’d read.
And the stained-glass window will tell our story…
“My eyes are deep brown.”
The side of his mouth curved upward in a smirky grin. The sexiest grin. It made her stomach flutter in that way she was coming to love. She shouldn’t be feeling this. Not now, not with him. Not ever.
“Do better than that, woma
n.” He turned her toward the mirror, stepping behind to stare over her shoulder. “What kind of brown? I like the way you talked last night about the blue of the sky and the yellow of the sun. I could feel the colors. Do it again. Make me feel yours.”
Feel it. Okay, she could do this.
She pulled in a deep breath, wanting to do this for him. Payback. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Squinting, she murmured, “It’s like… warm chocolate, but not that dark. Like… like, think of the earth in the spring when one might plant a garden. The sun is shining, warming everything under it. But there is still a crispness in the air…”
She saw Skittles nod in the mirror, eyes narrowing in concentration.
“Everything feels new, coming out of winter. Like the sun is kissing everything awake. Now it’s time to do work, and you dig your fingers in the warming earth, like claws, feeling that soil sifting between them. Life-giving earth. And you know, that as the year passes, and it gets warmer, the plants are going to come. They’re going to break through the dirt and find the sun. Find the warmth. And live.” She found his eyes in the reflection of the glass, and held them. “It’s like that.”
He stared at her in his intense way, in the way that made her feel so damn important before turning her to face him again. The pads of his fingers traced softly around her eyes and it seemed like he was really trying to feel what she described.
“Nyla,” he rumbled. “My soñadora.” Soñadora. What did that mean? It was beautiful.
“Hm?”
“I love your eyes.”
His words struck her like some kind of fucked-up cupid’s arrow, making her fall and fall and fall for him. I love your eyes. Had anyone ever said something so sweet to her before?
No. Don’t do it. Don’t feel. Don’t care.
Clearing her throat, she turned away, bending to pick up the roll of tape. Skittles didn’t say a word as she pulled off a long strip and cut it with her teeth. She nodded for him to hold the plastic in place, and together, they fixed the window.
Chapter Eighteen
I looked both ways as I approached my room. It was purposely set away from all the others, for privacy. But I especially wanted them to keep their nose out of my business now.
I twisted the key in the padlock that secured a sliding bolt mechanism I’d attached to the door, and for a moment considered if this made me more of a monster, locking Skye away. But these were dangerous times. Tonight’s incident proved it.
If she’d been in the room she shared with Janet, she would have been hurt.
I ground my molars, remembering the way their room looked like fucking swiss cheese with the morning sun shining through all the bullet holes. Would’ve lost Janet too if she hadn’t been checking in on Smokes, doctoring his ass up.
Fucking Bastian. The motherfucker was going to pay.
I stepped into the room to find Skye pacing the floor like it was some kind of track. Her head snapped up to glare at me.
Normal. Whatever.
I didn’t care what she thought of me. Much.
I just needed to keep her alive.
Shit.
Don’t wanna care. Don’t need her. Don’t want her. Let her go. Let her be.
The words hammered in my head, so loud it caused actual pain. I closed my eyes, trying to make them stop.
The voices were getting worse. The stronger the new one became, the harder the old one fought.
There was a war inside me, and I still didn’t know which side I was on.
“Felix?” Her soft voice dripped with concern, but fucking hell, I liked the sound of my name coming from her mouth.
Mmmm, the new thing inside me purred. Make her say it while she comes.
Fuck. Yes.
No. None of that with her. She wasn’t meant for the twisted things I liked to do.
“Felix.”
I opened my eyes to find she’d moved closer. Her eyes searched mine, worried and nervous.
“Are you all right? Is anyone hurt out there? What happened?”
“No one was hurt,” I told her. “But the room you shared with Janet is riddled with bullet holes. You would’ve been…” I couldn’t even finish the thought.
“Oh, no.” Skye’s pretty face crumpled. “Janet? Was she in there?”
I shook my head. “She was with Smokes.”
She pressed a shaking hand to her chest. “Oh, thank god.” She turned away and sank down to sit on the bed, leaning forward to drop her head in her hands. “Was it… was it him?”
“Yes. Monster tracked the scent of the shooters back to the mansion. Definitely Bastian’s men.”
She cringed, staring up at me while she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Like just the thought of the bastard made her dirty.
Shit. I’d felt that way before. About my own damn family.
Every time I’d leave a round of training, bloody and broken and fucking confused after hurting my brothers. Other fathers loved their children, I’d known that. But ours? Ours loved what they could twist us into. Ours loved only monsters. The ones they contained inside and the ones they bred to take their place. The things they made us do made me feel dirty.
Until the bad became normal.
Eventually, the feeling faded. It would with Skye too. But hopefully in her case, for different reasons.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. “How are we going to stop him?”
I didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But I was sure as hell going to figure it out.
“Should we run?” she rattled off. “Just leave and go as far away as we can?”
She kept saying we, but I knew she meant her. Or maybe her and the unmated Dolls. Either way, I wasn’t in the picture.
Good.
Right?
No. Not right, damn it.
“Never run,” I snapped, remembering the night she’d run from me outside of the mansion.
“He’s going to kill us!” She stood quickly from the bed, marching over to stop right in front of me. Her scent and closeness were damn near overwhelming. Fuck, she was… she was… so damn perfect. I clenched my fists to keep my hands from yanking her against my chest. “Do you hear me? He won’t stop until we’re dead. This will keep up and all your people will be caught in his net.”
“He won’t kill you,” I grated, trying to keep my composure. “I’ll make sure of it. Trust me.” It was only in that moment that I realized how badly I wanted her to.
Trust me, female. Me.
“How?” she whispered. “How can you keep us safe? You don’t have an animal. You don’t have fire like the others have. You’ve got no way to fight him.”
There was no lie to her statement but it hit me like my father’s palm to the face. Hard and solid and angry, stealing all my pride. Robbing me of my own fucking value. As if I was worth a shit anyway.
I felt the fury bubble up inside, feeding the old voice.
Reaching forward, I jerked her into my arms, forcing her face up to mine and finding her eyes, those sweet blue pools that I never let myself get too lost in. She didn’t push away, brow furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t need a fucking animal to keep you safe. Understand me, woman. I don’t need the fire. I don’t need shit. Because you are mine. And I told you that first night in the woods. I always get what’s mine.”
Skye’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open with shock.
Shit. Did I just…
No.
Shit. Fuck.
“I’m… yours?” she barely breathed. “The way Marlee is Ratchet’s and Vegas is Monster’s?”
My grip on her loosened, but hers grew tighter. Like… like she didn’t want me letting go.
Oh, shiiiiit.
Because the feel of her small body pressed against mine was giving me visions of a future I couldn’t have. One where I was noble and she was proudly at my side. One where I put her first and was happy to do so. One where she was locked in my heart forever and ever, and th
ere were no more denials and no more waiting and she was just… mine. Mine to love. A future where I actually could love her. Because she loved me, and put my broken pieces back together.
But I wasn’t stupid.
I wasn’t stupid at all, and I knew that future was nothing but a façade. I wasn’t noble and I couldn’t love. And a female like her could never be proud to be called mine.
“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice full of so much hope. Hope for what? Another denial? “Tell me what it means?”
I pushed away, turning to catch my breath and unpack my weapons. I didn’t look at her. Don’t know what expression painted her face when we parted but for me, it felt like being cut from the nape to the waist. My father’s favorite way to take my skin.
“I’ll tell you what it means,” I snapped. “It means I’m responsible for seeing you taken care of. Nothing more, nothing less. It means one day you’ll hate me, if you don’t already. It means I’ll never let Bastian touch you again, even if it costs me fucking everything. Understand?”
I finally turned to look at her but I couldn’t read her expression. She gave me a tight nod, her gaze fluttering to the floor.
“Now, get your ass in bed, female. You need to sleep.”
I watched her wordlessly peel back the blankets and climb into my bed before walking over to pull the covers up like I’d done every night. I settled myself on the small couch, and twisted to turn off the lamp. In the darkness, I heard her flip and flop until she was comfortable. And for a brief moment I wondered what it would be like to sleep beside her.
Share a bed. For sleeping. Ha. The idea was absurd.
After a few minutes there was a long sigh.
“Felix?”
I squeezed my eyes closed, soaking in the sound again. My name, her voice. Most beautiful thing ever. But why did it make my insides burn so fucking bad?
Why did beautiful things always hurt?
“Hm?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You will, mine.”
Silence filled the space between us, dragging into what seemed like an eternity before she answered.
“Promise?”
“Swear it.”
Chapter Nineteen