by Bella J
“Yeah.” He reached out, and I steadied myself by leaning on his arm with one hand.
The first three steps weren’t so bad, but the farther up we went, the more tired I became. These damn stairs were like fucking mountains, and I felt the frustration knocking at my skull. I wanted to run up and down these goddamn stairs like I used to before…before…
No. I won’t think about it.
“You okay?” Ink asked, giving me a worrying glance.
“I’m fine. You can let go if you want to. I can manage on my own.”
“Never.”
I paused, stilled, and hesitantly glanced at him.
“I’m never letting go, Neon.” His brown eyes were a shade lighter than mine—more hazel with a honey tint compared to my darker color. I always thought his eyes were his most beautiful feature, while other women swooned over his boyish good looks and gigolo charm. Not to mention the tattoos that always seemed like a whore magnet. And walking with his dick on his forehead wasn’t exactly the kind of attribute I appreciated in a man—which was why he always annoyed the crap out of me. But he seemed different now. Darker. There had always been shadows hiding behind his quirky jokes and sexual innuendos. I saw it whenever he tried to act like he didn’t have past baggage like the rest of us. Maybe that was one of the reasons I kept my distance from him. I didn’t like the fact that he pretended to be something he wasn’t. But lately, he wasn’t pretending. He stopped pretending the day he picked me up off the pavement.
I still remembered, but only flashes. The pain. The bone crushing agony which was everywhere at once. And I remember him. His face, and the relief that melted away the fear when I felt him pick me up, telling me everything was going to be okay. Whispering the words, “I’m never letting go, Neon.” That was the moment I could finally let go of my strength and allow my body and mind to tap out—because I knew he was there. All of them were there. I was safe.
But now, while I stared into his eyes, I no longer felt safe. My heart was starting to break through the wall it had been sheltered behind almost all my life, and I couldn’t allow it.
Not now.
Not after…
I turned away, focusing my attention on the stairs I needed to conquer. On my own. “Maybe you should,” I muttered.
“What?”
I pulled my elbow out of his grip, steadying myself on the crutch, and moved up to the next step. “Let go. Maybe you should let go.” With effort and strained muscles, I hopped up the stairs, one step at a time. I didn’t look back, and he didn’t follow. He’d give up eventually. They always did. No man would endure one rejection after the other for long without their ego being bruised and battered. It was only a matter of time before Ink would let go and move on to an easier conquest. I was too damaged for him, anyway.
Ink’s affection was quick, fast, and short-lived. It lasted about as long as yesterday’s news.
“Neon,” he called after me, and I stopped as I reached the top of the stairs, now leaning heavily on my crutch. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I didn’t turn. I didn’t respond. And I sure as shit didn’t entertain the thought that his words meant something more than a guilt-induced reassurance.
Without saying a word, I showed him nothing but my back as I continued down the hall. It was only when I closed my bedroom door behind me that I exhaled, closing my eyes as exhaustion set in. I hated that I couldn’t even walk up a single flight of stairs without my body complaining with rapid breaths.
I hopped over to my bed and placed my crutch against the wall, then flopped down on the mattress. Glancing down at the brace that was like a motherfucking crucifix around my leg, I wondered if it would make a difference when I’d finally be able to move around with no restrictions. Would one healed injury make me feel better? Would it make me feel stronger, give me another notch in my survivor belt? Probably not.
I spotted the glass of water on my bedside table and immediately opened my drawer to find the one sleeping pill Alyx had left me. She refused to leave the whole bottle and appointed herself as the fucking pill-keeper around here. Gave me my pain meds when I needed it and left me a single sleeping pill every night. It was obvious she didn’t trust my PTSD ass around pills. But I was too much of coward to try to take my own life. I’d had a taste of what it would be like in hell, and there was no way I’d go back there willingly. I’d rather live through countless nightmares and a lifetime of haunting memories.
I pushed myself off the bed and carefully tried to make my way to the bathroom. Granite had my room renovated after everything, made sure I didn’t have to share a bathroom with anyone. Funny, it never bothered me before, sharing a bathroom with the guys. But when I walked into my room for the first time since my descent to hell, I was relieved and thankful for my own little private space.
Steadying myself by the bathroom sink, I pulled a make-up remover wipe from the bag and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t know the woman staring back at me with hair the color of mud and lifeless eyes.
Removing my make-up and revealing my scars always had my stomach feeling like I swallowed concrete. Even though the scars weren’t as bad as Doc and I had first thought they would be, they were still there. It was still burned into my skin, a constant reminder of what it felt like to be a goddamn human ashtray. I could still remember the pain, the sizzle, the stench of burning flesh. The way they laughed while I screamed, and the sight of cigarette butts on the floor beneath me, knowing what it felt like to have the coals smothered against my skin.
There were only three scars on my face—one just above my eyebrow, another on my left cheekbone, and one below my hairline on my forehead. The other scars were scattered around my body, but I never took the time to search for each and every one, counting them. I couldn’t look at my reflection for longer than a few minutes or stare at my body for long. The reminders were too powerful, and my wounds too fresh—even though months had passed already.
After wiping away the last smears of make-up, I hunched over, gripping the sink with only nine goddamn fingers. Who knew something as small as a fucking pinky could be missed? God, I was nothing but a broken canvas, a fucking shell filled with nothing but nightmares and horror. Even though I could feel my heart beat and my lungs expand with every breath, it still felt like I died that night. I was no longer alive; I merely existed. A shadow of the person I once was. A dark, broken, lifeless ghost stuck in a place where gravity no longer existed, where chains held me down, incapable of moving forward. My body didn’t feel like it belonged to me anymore, and neither did my mind. Every time I laughed, I didn’t recognize the person behind the sound.
There was a knock on the door, and I pulled my shit together by straightening and wiping a palm down my face.
“Come in.” I stepped out of the bathroom and stilled when I saw Ink standing in the doorway. “Something wrong?”
He scoffed. “Is that a trick question?”
“What do you want, Ink?” I staggered over to the bed and popped the sleeping pill before facing him again.
“Still having trouble sleeping?”
“A little.”
“Nightmares?”
“Maybe. Um…what is it you wanted?”
Ink crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”
“I’m not ten, Ink. I can fall asleep on my own.”
“I know. I’m just trying to help.”
“Don’t.”
“Neon—”
“What do you want, Ink? Huh? Do you want me to fall at your feet and confess my undying love to you? Do you want me to spread my legs for you so you can say you finally managed to fuck the one woman no one around here ever has?”
“Stop, okay?”
“I’m serious. You’re like a goddamn child who can’t get a hint. Stop trying to fucking save me.”
He straightened. “Is that what you think I’m trying to do? Save you?”
“
It sure as fuck seems like it.”
“Believe me, I know I can’t save you.” His eyes darkened, pinning me with a pointed stare. “I need to live with that every goddamn day, knowing I couldn’t do shit to keep you safe. And it’s eating away at me like some fucking virus, the fact that I couldn’t save you.”
“So, what, I should feel sorry for you now? I should take pity on you because you feel guilty for not saving me?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what are you saying, Ink?” I blurted. “What the fuck are you saying? Because clearly, I’m not getting the fucking message.”
He moved closer, his hard gaze never leaving mine. “It’s been months since I picked you up from that sidewalk. Months since I realized everything I’ve ever wanted was right here under this fucking roof—and that includes you, Neon.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years that you wanted to get into my pants.”
“Is that what you think I want?” A fake smile tugged at his lips. “To get into your fucking pants?”
“Isn’t it?”
Our gazes remained locked for what felt like an eternity before he finally took a step back. “Losing you fucked me up, Neon. It rewired my goddamn brain, and now I can’t think of anything else.”
“Fucked you up? You think what happened fucked you up?” I pushed myself up, anger simmering on the surface. “I’m sorry that me being kidnapped and tortured fucked you up. I fucking apologize that me getting raped repeatedly, feeling like my spine was being broken in half, fucked you up.” I pushed forward while he remained unmoved. “I’m fucking sorry that me spending hours while having savages tear my body apart fucked you up, Ink.”
“Neon, stop.”
“I’m real fucking sorry that having every hole filled with cock while my blood stained the floor around me fucked you up.” I pushed a finger against his chest, rage reaching the boiling point inside my veins while tears stung my eyes. “And I am so goddamn sorry that you’re the one who got fucked up while I was busy dying over and over and over—”
“Stop!” Ink grabbed my wrist as I tried to slam my fist into his chest, pulling me against him and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
“Let go of me.” I wept, thrashing against him.
“No.”
“Let go of me!”
“Never.” His arms tightened around me, locking me in place while I couldn’t stop myself from fighting. “I told you before, I’m never letting you go.”
My tears soaked his shirt as I felt his heat sweep through me, attempting to thaw the ice that covered my skin. But even with Ink’s arms around me, the torment wouldn’t let go, still clawing at my chest, trying to tear my heart apart. Trying to destroy the last bit of humanity I had left. It was excruciating, and I tried to fight it. Tried to be strong enough to not let it possess me, and in the end define me. But it was hard. Some days it was too hard…and most days I failed. Every day was a battle, a war against my own thoughts, and I was tired. So fucking tired of trying to keep the pieces together. But the longer Ink had his arms tightly wrapped around me, the more I allowed myself to surrender to the comfort he was so determined to give. I hated it, but I needed it. I needed it so damn much I allowed myself a short reprieve and soaked up the warmth that seeped through him into me. Just a few moments of letting someone else carry this burden that weighed so heavily on my already broken soul…just a few seconds of peace.
His fingers weaved through my hair at the back of my head. “I lost you once, Neon. I’m not losing you again.”
He loosened his hold around me a little, and I instinctively took advantage of it by jerking out of his arms, retreating one uncomfortable step after the other. I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand, the hole where my heart used to be an echo of emptiness. “That’s the thing, Ink. You can’t lose something you never had.”
Chapter Four
Ink
Seeing Onyx sit in the president’s seat started to become less weird. Everyone was making peace with Granite’s decision to step down. Even Dutch, the new VP, seemed like he was starting to deal with it, but the poor fucker didn’t know who to cling to because of his friendship with Granite and his loyalty to protect the club president. It was like watching a threesome on a porn movie where the guy didn’t know which hole to plug first.
“There’s still no sign of Slither,” Onyx stated. “How the fuck can someone just disappear like that?”
“We’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll find him.” Dutch reached for his pack of cigarettes. “It’s only a matter of time. He can’t hide forever.”
“It’s not like Slither to hide. Fucker never cowers away from a fight. Why start now?”
Granite shrugged. “Maybe he’s not hiding. He’s waiting.”
“For what?”
“An opportunity.”
Onyx leaned back in his seat. “An opportunity to do what?”
“I dunno, man. But the fact that Wraith is here with us now, with you, is not something Slither will just ignore.”
I nodded in agreement. “Her being here is like walking around with a giant bullseye on our motherfucking foreheads.”
Onyx glared at me. “Then you better make sure you don’t piss anyone off with that target on your fucking face.”
The warning was loud and clear, and I chose to respond with a mere smirk. Onyx knew how I felt about Wraith. He knew I’d pack her fucking bags right now if she just had half a thought of leaving.
The sound of Manic clearing his throat tore through the tension. “If you two are done pissing all over each other, let’s move along. I have blonde, busty twins waiting for me in the bar downstairs, so if we could wrap this up as soon as fucking possible, my dick will be extremely grateful for the next two hours.”
“Two hours?” I frowned. “Dude, you’re losing your touch. Must be an age thing.”
“An age thing?”
“Aren’t you like turning thirty-six next week?”
“Thirty-two.”
I shrugged. “Same thing.”
“I’d say suck my dick, but you seem more like the dry-humping kind. Can I offer you my leg instead?”
“You’re an asshole.” I glowered at him, and everyone else burst out laughing.
“Okay, seriously,” Onyx started, “we got a shitstorm of complications headed our way. Crow wants to set up a meeting tonight. The man ain’t happy about Slither fucking with his snow business.”
I grabbed my pack of cigarettes. “What’s the big deal? Slither is MIA, and his shit ain’t no longer on the streets.”
“Don’t matter. You know Crow. Fuck with his reputation, and you get your throat slit.”
“So, what now?”
Onyx placed his arms on the table. “Now, we meet with the Sixes and find out where we stand.”
“We’re not giving Slither up to the Sixes.” The tenor of my voice relayed just how fucking serious I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d give him up to anyone, which was way I haven’t shared my secret with anyone yet.
Onyx got up. “Before we get our balls in a knot, let’s hear what the fuckers have to say.” He placed a palm on my shoulder, a small gesture of brotherhood. Even though we didn’t see eye-to-eye about the woman he shared a bed with, in this room, we were all blood. No matter what.
I remained seated while everyone walked out. When I noticed Dutch stayed behind, I kind of regretted not leaving the room too, not in the mood to get psychoanalyzed by the club shrink.
“You okay?”
I grinned. “Just peachy.”
“You and Neon?”
“What about us?”
He rubbed his fingers down his beard. “Is she still assaulting you with her boot?”
“Daily.” We both smiled. Neon was known for her hotheadedness—especially when it came to me. For some reason, I annoyed her more than anyone else in this goddamn club, and everyone knew it. It was starting to beco
me the club joke around here, but it was also starting to become personal—for me, anyway.
Dutch got up, his bald head all fucking shiny under the dim light. “Don’t give up.”
“Give up on what?”
“On Neon. No matter how many times she shuts you out, don’t give up on her.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, leaning back in my seat and letting his words sink in. “I won’t.”
“Good. She needs you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”
I nodded, and Dutch walked out, but not before he paused and looked back at me. “Also, keep an eye on her…you know, her addiction to coke. I’d hate to see her lose herself to that shit again. And since you have the same history, I’m sure you’ll see the signs long before any of us do.”
“There’s not a chance in hell I’d let her go down that road again.”
Dutch nodded then left me alone with my thoughts. Neon and I were the only two here who had a history with drugs. My poison, heroin. Hers, cocaine. Maybe that was another reason I had always felt so drawn to her, like she knew me better than anyone else. She knew what it felt like to drown with every breath, your veins smothered with a craving you couldn’t control. Getting high was the only way to get oxygen back in your lungs, to get your heart pumping again. There was a time in my life when I was sure I’d die in a ditch somewhere with a needle stuck in my arm. But then I found the Kings—or rather, they found me. Granite’s dad refused to let the drugs take me, and it was the same with Neon.
I could still remember the day she walked into the bar, high as a fucking kite. A few guys saw her as an easy target for a quick fuck, but Stone saw a girl worth saving. Fists flew, f-bombs got dropped, and a few weeks later, Neon was clean and a part of the club.
But Dutch was right. If there was ever a time for Neon to be tempted to fall back into old habits, it was now, and I’d rather swallow glass and tear my own fucking spleen out than let that happen. Just thinking about it had my blood seething, waking a frantic need to go torture the snake—get some reprieve from the demons that raged inside me.