"Should I take it as a good sign that you aren't throwing me out of the door?"
I didn't necessarily have an answer to that, because I wasn't sure myself.
I had no reason to toss him out. Nothing he'd said was any worse than what Nyx had done over the years. And he was here, hadn't run screaming from the hills even though I was getting a body count of my own.
One accidental death, a thrown-out manslaughter case that a surprisingly sympathetic DA had tempered as self-defense thanks to the defensive wounds on both mine and Shane’s body, was one thing.
Two?
That was when people started to get a reputation.
Running my finger along the outside of my lip, with my gaze trained on the desk, I asked, "Cruz?"
"Yes?"
"Want me to work on your back piece?”
He blinked. "I mean, not really, because of my ribs, but the bottom half… you can if you want to."
I heaved a sigh. "I do, want to, I mean. I need to clear my head."
"Sure. If that's what you need then we'll roll with it." He got to his feet, his desire to comply clear, and a sudden welter of gratitude hit me.
As well as the realization that I'd been a bitch.
He'd lost brothers, lost his home, lost his things, but he was here, consoling me, trying to bring me around.
I hadn't even offered to let him crash here, for God's sake.
Guilt and shame uncoiled inside me as I got to my feet, and when he strode over to me, I reached out, letting my fingers collide with his as he moved to tangle them together.
"Would you really have run?"
I knew he wanted me to say no, but I couldn't. So, instead, I asked, "If you could liken me to any animal in the world, what would it be?"
His surprise was evident, but he didn't dismiss the question as stupid. I could see the logical reasonings and rationale being deciphered before my very eyes, so I wasn't altogether surprised when he came up with, "A wolverine."
I hissed out a laugh. "Ouch."
His eyes twinkled. "Deadly when provoked, capable of hunting through frozen soil to reach their prey? Sound like anyone we know?"
"Well, you can think that, but I think of myself as a rabbit. Too scared sometimes, too stupid to live, to breathe. Never good enough, dirty, vermin—" I grunted. "Doesn't matter if you see me as a wolverine or a puma—which, FYI, I'd have preferred—but I don't see myself like that.
"I'm not strong, Cruz. I'm not."
He squeezed my fingers. "You're plenty strong, but when the cards fall, and you're left with questions that come with insane answers, you were always going to come out fighting. A puma, rabbit, and a wolverine all have the same thing in common—when they come face to face with a gun, they ain't gonna leap for the man wielding it. They're going to tuck tail and run."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I?" He smiled. "I just figure I have to give you a reason to want to stay around."
"You've given me that for a while, but that got blurred along the way."
"Only natural. After what happened."
"I-I should have asked you before, Cruz, but you must need somewhere to stay."
"I can stay with the other brothers. We just bought the Budget Basement Motel."
My eyes widened. "You did, huh? Interesting. Far as I knew, Jamie Peters wanted a crazy asking price…” He smirked at me, which gave me all the answer I needed. “Didn't know you could beat the shit out of someone with a concussion and taped up ribs,” I remarked wryly.
"Nyx and Link were more persuasive than me."
"I'll bet," was my rueful retort, well aware that both brothers were injured too. "But I mean it. You don't have to stay there. Please, I'd like you here. With me." It surprised me how much I meant that.
How badly I did want him here.
His gaze softened. "I'm not going to push you into anything, Indy. I know how important space is to you, as well as your independence."
I’d had one foot out of the damn door before I’d found out about my niece or nephew, but that timelessness about Cruz got to me.
He was strong, stalwart enough to be there for a hundred years. To hunt me down for a hundred years.
And, to be completely frank, there was plenty I’d prefer to be doing with him than have him hunt me down when his arms were the only place I wanted to be. The only place I found peace.
The fucking MC was what had gotten between us, just like it always did. Nerves hit me, but with it, was a rush of exhilaration as I accepted a hard truth. I needed him.
Sinner or not.
“Space and independence are important to me, and I love that you know that, but, and I should have realized this sooner, they're not as important as you.
“I have no way of classifying this, Cruz, no way that fits or makes any real sense to me, but I just know that I don't want to lose you. And yeah, I'm aware that I'm the one who almost took us to the brink—“
"You might be, but I'd have come after you, Indy. Never doubt that."
And as I stared at the resolve in his eyes, a resolve that was like a goddamn hug on a cold night, I recognized I'd done the impossible—found a man who saw past the surface, who recognized what I was beneath the protective layers I'd spent a lifetime cultivating... and he wanted me anyway.
Twenty-One
Cruz
I woke up with an angel in my bed.
Or, at least, I woke up in an angel's bed.
As I squinted around, restricted by the way I was laying, I found her, and watched her sleep for a handful of moments.
Her breathing was soft, even, well-paced. No stressors. She wasn't having a nightmare, wasn't even having a stressful sleep.
She was calm.
And that soothed me.
Last night, over four hours of work on the lower half of my tattoo, that relentless buzzing in my ears from the tattoo gun, I'd agreed to stay with her on the proviso that I didn't mess with her sleep.
I figured it was a positive that she was sleeping at all, because I knew that had been an issue in the past.
I'd drifted off with her still awake and doing something on her phone, but I'd been too buzzed to do anything.
Even fuck.
And today, my back ached like a bitch from the extensive work but it felt good. The tenderness felt real good.
The extensive work was why I was laying on my belly. Prodding hyper-tenderized flesh wasn't my idea of a good time, that was for fucking sure.
"Looks like you're staying with me, huh?" she mumbled around a yawn as her eyelashes fluttered. She looked at me once, then closed them again.
"If you slept, then I'll stay every night. Prefer to have you hooked on my cock than on Valium."
She snorted at that, and her smile appeared, making the sides of her eyes crease with it. Because they were closed, it was somehow all the more powerful. That she could look like that without even truly being awake and aware.
"You didn't feed me any cock last night."
"Since when were you a cannibal? Murdering stalkers I can deal with, cannibalism? Nuhuh."
"You getting squeamish on me, Cruz?"
“Bet your ass I am. I'm not really that fucking happy with beef, never mind eating a dude's—"
Her eyes popped open, and she eyed me with curiosity. "A dude's what?"
I scowled. "I don't know. Whichever part of the human body is appealing to cannibals. Maybe you'd know?"
Her lips twitched. "Well, it isn't dick. Don't worry. Most men don't have much meat down there."
I snickered. "Ouch."
She winked. "Feel the burn?"
"I do. Even though I don't have any insecurities about my cock." I smirked at her. "And with how you wriggle around on it when I stick it in you, I don't think you have many complaints."
When she wiggled some, my smirk grew.
"There we have our confirmation," I teased, reaching over and pressing my hand to her belly. "Seriously though... you slept well?"
&nb
sp; "I did." She yawned again. "Better than last night."
"Your world was in the air. I get it. You're just lucky you didn't go running, and I didn't have to chase your ass down. As it stands, you've earned a punishment but nothing too major."
Her eyes darkened. "Not sure that's fair."
Her pout had me moving my hand to trace the pucker of her lips. "Never said I was fair. Never said I was into equality where this stuff is concerned.
"You pulled away, Indy. You, not me. I thought it was men who were supposed to be scared of commitment."
That had her eyes flaring wide. "Commitment?"
"Yes. A word more terrifying than 'cunt.'"
She shoved me. "Don't joke."
"Who said I'm joking?"
Indy blew me a raspberry, but after, her bottom lip was firmly tucked between her teeth.
Even though I was glad that she'd worked on my tattoo, because the endorphin rush always made me sleep like a fucking baby, and with the headache from hell after the blast, as well as the discomfort with my ribs which there was no escaping, I needed the Zs just as much as she did.
Only thing was, I couldn't grab her hair, coil it around my wrist, and then drag her down so she was sucking on my cock. Not when said cock was currently burrowing a hole in the fucking mattress.
"You want to be with me?" she asked, her voice serious, her eyes somber, so I knew she was taking this in the spirit it was intended.
I wasn't messing around here.
Watching her waffle had cemented things for me.
Wherever she was, I'd be.
Simple as that.
I was a lot more at ease with thinking that way than thinking I loved her, but that was because I'd only ever really loved my dad and his mother, who'd died when I was young. But I'd loved her. Too much.
Love hurt.
Making a liar out of me about the whole ‘not being a masochist thing.’
She twisted onto her side, and whispered, "I'm scared."
"What of?" I didn't tease her even though I could have. Not to be a prick, but just to make her smile.
I hadn't seen her this serious in, well, ever. She was taking things hard, and I got that.
What with killing a man, protecting one of our own from a fucking pedo groomer, and then a bomb blast that had taken some of our people, destroyed our world while forcing us to build it from the ground up... a lot had gone on and gone wrong.
When she cuddled into my side, one of her calves going over my ass as she tucked herself into me, I was a goner.
I mean, I'd already gone over for her, but feeling her like that, feeling her let me in, it meant more than she could know.
Jesus, it meant everything.
Her lips brushed against my shoulder, and she whispered, "Why do you make me feel safe?"
"Because you like monsters. You learned a long time ago that the people who hurt you look normal, they’re what haunts you, but your personal monsters, the ones who regular ‘decent’ folk look down on, keep you safe."
That had her rearing back. "Huh?"
My lips kicked up in a smile. "Nyx, me?" I grimaced. "We're the same. He just has a higher body count than me.”
She blinked. "You're not crazy like he is." Then, she winced. “He's high-functioning, don't get me wrong, but he's still a little batshit."
"Perfect daddy material," I joked, prompting her to shove at me again. I grinned at her, and she scowled.
"Your humor is as whacked as he is, that's for sure."
I shrugged. "I know."
"Doesn't make you a monster."
When I thought about all the gnarly shit I'd done in my life, and what I'd do in the future, without a second thought, I just hummed. "Different types of monsters out there. Predators who prey on the weak. And predators who prey on predators."
She relaxed some. "Oh."
I nodded. "I've always been wired differently, Indy, and that's why I'm surprised I feel this way for you. I've never felt this way for any other woman. And the few people I've loved have all been family.
"I never thought I wanted to feel like this. Never imagined this was how I'd feel when I first—" I broke off, because I hadn't intended on mentioning that, but it had slipped out.
Dammit.
And like I'd expect, she was on it like a fucking bulldog with a link of sausages.
"What?"
"I only saw you as Nyx's sister until I saw you cleaning up Stone's bunkhouse."
"I think you have a tendency to compartmentalize people. So maybe it's not that much of a surprise."
I blinked, because she was right. I did. People fit into pigeonholes for me, and rarely did they fly out of them and head into a different box.
Deciding I'd think about that later on, when Indy wasn't all ears, and when I thought it best to tell her something while we were still in the early days of this thing we had going on, I carried on:
"That night, I saw you and I just wanted to fuck you. It was like a hit to the dick."
"Sounds painful."
"Trust me, the way your tits were jiggling, it was painful."
A smile quivered on her lips. "I'll bet." She caught my eyes with hers. “I still don’t get why you covered me with that blanket.”
I winced. “I covered you until you started struggling."
She reached over and placed her hand on the back of my head. It swooped over the curve of my skull and played with the short whorls of hair that had grown out since my last trim. I was also in need of a shave. The past few days had been hell on my personal grooming.
"You heard, didn't you?"
"You gonna pull my hair if I don't tell you?"
She snorted. "You're not supposed to make me laugh. Stop it!" She tugged on it, just not hard enough to sting. "I wasn't going to do that but you deserved it."
"A likely story," I told her, grinning all the while.
A breath gusted from her lips as she muttered, "I—you—what did you hear?"
"You mentioned Kevin's name. Didn't take a genius, which I am, to put two and two together."
She swallowed. Thickly. "Is that why this whole thing started? Because you thought I was a pity fuck?"
Unease flashed inside me, because I knew if I fucked this up, she'd never forgive me. Ever.
And even though my life trajectory might involve me dying before I hit fifty, I wanted to spend every one of those single fucking years with her at my side.
Preferably bouncing on top of me for a lot of them.
"Nothing about you is piteous, Indy."
Her nostrils flared at my serious tone, but I could see she wasn't listening. She started to stir, uncoiling away from me as she made a retreat that was both physical and mental.
Quickly, I grabbed my cell phone from her frou frou nightstand, and as I rolled onto my side, groaning as my ribs put up a serious protest at the abrupt move, I grabbed her and kept her in place by hooking an arm over her stomach, and hauling her into my belly so that she wasn't facing me.
It happened so fast, that she shrieked, and she struggled some when I grabbed one of her thighs and hooked it over mine, only stopping when I made no move to otherwise touch her.
With one hand holding her in place, my lips brushing her earlobe, I murmured, "Open my phone. 564532 is my passcode."
She tensed at that, tensed because I knew she hadn't expected to be able to open it herself even though I'd dropped the cell in front of her stomach.
She reached for it, tapped in the code, then jolted when she came face to face with my home screen.
Her.
Legs spread wide, cum seeping from her pussy, my fingers in that delectable slit. Her face was relaxed, free because her mind was flying, her lips were slack, with just enough tension to make her look like she was moaning. Around her, the silk of her hair was like a blanket that provided the perfect contrast to what we were looking at.
Making the gold of her skin gleam harder, and my own, paler skin look even creamier.
"Do
es anything about that, about that beautiful woman, about that sexy fucking siren, look pitiful to you?"
She was tense in my arms, fucking vibrating so hard it hurt my goddamn ribs.
"How many times do I have to show you how you make me respond to you?" I growled the words, even as I jerked my dick into her ass so she could feel my hard-on. A hard-on I had despite the agonizing position I held her in.
"You're not pitiful. You're a fucking warrior. And you're goddamn perfect. Absolutely every single inch of you.
"I saw you that night, deep in the throes of torment, and I didn't think, ‘Indy needs a pity fuck.’ I saw this woman who had hidden the truth from her maniac of a brother. I had to figure it was to spare his sanity, otherwise Nyx'd know. I saw this woman who was ravaged by the past, tormented by it but still leading her best life, and I just wanted her.
"I wanted a woman that strong. That powerful. I wanted to bring her peace."
"I'm not strong. I think these past couple of days proved that, don't you?"
I shook my head, not liking the shakiness in her voice. "I told you already, so don't make me repeat myself," I grumbled. "Don't mistake caution for weakness. I don't. I respect you more for taking a step back than for throwing caution to the wind. With your past, that kind of thinking kept you safe and alive." I nudged her with my dick. "Go into my gallery."
She gulped, but did as I asked, moving to the gallery where she found her.
Hundreds of pictures of her, only broken up with screenshots of something I'd taken in between meeting up with her.
"Jesus," she rasped.
"You're beautiful," I told her, unapologetically, as she swiped through them all, seeing herself in various poses, various bondage techniques, sometimes asleep, sometimes drifting off, sometimes with her legs spread wide, sometimes in the middle of an orgasm.
"Tell me your pussy isn't creaming," I whispered in her ear.
She swallowed. "I shouldn't be wet, because it looks like I've picked up another stalker—"
I grinned at that. "This is the kind of stalker you'll like, I promise. This one gives you orgasms."
"Gives me, huh? So far, I've had to work fucking hard for those orgasms."
“And those pictures are proof that you love it." I pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "If you ever leave me, I will never, ever, break your trust. Those photos are mine. No one will ever see them. Ever."
Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5) Page 29