by Anne Malcom
“Kill,” I whispered, my voice broken.
He brushed the hair from my face. “You’ll always be tattooed on my heart, freckles. I’ll always know that. Needed the world to know that.”
My heart thundered in my chest and I tore my gaze away from his and moved my palm to look at his pec once more. A single tear dropped from my eye and onto the beautiful, intricate padlock that covered half of it. It must have taken hours. The lines were detailed and painstakingly carved into his chest. The lock was surrounded by roses, with music notes flowing through each petal. Lying underneath the lock was an antique key with the same exquisite detail. Lexie was scrawled in sloping script along the entirety of the key.
His hand fastened under my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze once more. He was blurry through the tears.
“Lexie, I promise, I swear to you, if you give me another chance to take care of your heart, to cherish it, I’ll protect it with my dying breath.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
“I can’t give you my heart,” I whispered and the air turned palpable. “I can’t give it to you,” I continued despite the hard look of despair on Killian’s face, “because you’ve already got it. You’ve always had it. You always will.”
Killian’s entire form froze and he blinked at me. His face wasn’t blank; it was drenched in shock. And hope. “Think you’re gonna have to be the one to pinch me now, freckles,” he said, his voice thick.
I smiled at him through my tears. “I can do better than that.” I knifed up and his hands tightened at the action of me leaving them. “Can I play you something?”
Killian’s eyes burned into mine. “Always.”
He let me go and I crawled off the bed to retrieve my guitar from the edge of the room. I moved to sit on the armchair across from the bed. I didn’t blink at my nakedness, not one bit, despite the fact it had been years and Killian had only seen me naked once then. He’d seen my soul stripped down to the core, nakedness was nothing. I positioned the guitar so it covered my body.
Killian pushed up on the bed, sitting half up, his glorious body on display. “Wait a second, freckles,” he instructed just as my hand hovered above the strings. “Need to take a mental snapshot of this.” The desire in his voice sent tingles down my spine, like I hadn’t just had sex with him.
I grinned at him and shook the curls from my face. After a second, I started playing “The Words,” by Christina Perri. The song was technically meant to be played with a piano accompaniment, but I winged it with my guitar. My eyes never left his as I sung every word, as the music floated through the room and filled it up, saying everything I couldn’t possibly verbalize, telling him everything that my heart yearned for him to know.
When the last of the notes left the room, it pulsed with the energy coming from Killian. It took him less than a second to move from the bed and get to me in two long strides. He took the guitar from my hands and placed it against the chair. Then he lifted me in his arms and his lips descended on mine. Everything I had tried to tell him he returned with that kiss, the one that tattooed my heart, that would probably go down as one of the best kisses of all time.
He rested his head against mine, breathing heavily.
“Freckles—” he began, but he was cut off by a banging at the door.
“I’m busy!” I yelled.
Killian grinned.
I blinked at that, at his face lighting up with a real, true smile. Nothing like he used to back when we were young. Back then, I’d always thought even his easiest smile was tinged with hardness. Now it was something else altogether. Seeing happiness tinged with darkness on his face was a painful kind of beauty. He’d changed. We both had. The most important thing between us was the same, but I knew we had to explore the differences too, and they were yawning.
“Yeah, I know that,” Noah’s voice jerked me out of my head, “but I thought you’d like to know that you’ve got a new brother.”
I froze. Then I yanked out of Killian’s arms and sprinted to the door. It was half open before a strong hand slammed it closed.
I scowled up at Killian.
“Babe, you’re naked,” he pointed out, eyes travelling down my body.
“So?” I hissed.
His jaw went hard. He wordlessly handed me the printed kimono that was hanging on a hook on my door. The arm keeping said door closed didn’t move, communicating the door would stay shut until my modesty was assured.
I quickly shoved my arms through and knotted it. Killian’s hand moved and I wasted no time in throwing the door open. Noah was standing there, arms crossed.
“I have a new brother? Is Mom okay? How do you know before me? Is the baby okay? It’s too soon. What’s wrong?” I fired at him, barely taking a breath.
Noah’s eyes flickered over my body and no doubt flushed face. His jaw was hard. “Zane called me because neither you nor Killian were answering your phones,” he said, lifting a brow. “After reassuring him you two were very much alive, he told me he’d been trying to get a hold of you. Your mom’s fine. The baby’s fine. They are resting in Amber’s hospital,” he said, his voice softening on the end.
“I have a brother,” I said. “I have a brother,” I repeated, this time louder. I let out a little squeal and jumped into Noah’s arms. He squeezed me and then let me go. I whirled around to where Killian stood in the doorway, his jeans buttoned but no shirt on.
I ran into his arms and he caught me. “Did you hear that, Kill? I have a brother!”
He grinned as he let me slide down his body, but his arms stayed around me. “Heard it, freckles.” He kissed my nose.
I stepped out of his embrace, ignoring Noah’s glacial stare. “I’ve got to go to Amber, right now,” I declared, moving into my room in the direction of the wardrobe. “I’ll get changed and then I’ll go.” I whirled around, looking to see Killian and Noah both staring at each other. I ignored this too. “Noe, can you call Mark and tell him I’m going to Amber for… however long I want.”
Noah nodded. “We’re comin’ too.”
“Of course. But I’m not going to wait until Sam drags himself out of bed. I’m going now.”
Killian stepped into my space. “Get dressed, baby. We’ll go now. I got you.”
My heart bloomed with the double meaning behind his words. I let them sow a little seed of hope.
*****
“My butt hurts. Like a lot,” I said as we got off Killian’s bike outside the hospital.
Killian took the helmet off my head gently, and then he yanked me into his body, his hands going to my aforementioned behind. “Need me to give it some attention, freckles?” he teased, his voice thick.
I blinked through my arousal. “Um. Later. You can’t get me feeling all squidgy just before I’m about to go and meet my baby brother. It’s not proper,” I scolded.
Killian chucked and kissed me lightly on the mouth. “In case you haven’t noticed, baby, I’m not proper.”
My gaze went hooded. “Oh, I’ve noticed, Mr. Decesare. And it’s safe to say I like it. Later.”
Killian’s eyes blazed. “Later.”
He released me and took my hand, pulling us into the hospital. His Sons of Templar cut was now firmly on his back, since we were away from reporters and such. We’d roared off on his bike less than an hour after I got the news and it was safe to say it was awesome, despite the pain in my extremities. I’d never ridden on the back of Killian’s bike. Before, I’d been a teenager, one who rarely broke the rules, hence me never getting on the back of my boyfriend’s “death machine”—Mom’s words. I now wanted to live there. The feeling of roaring down the road pressed against Killian reminded me of what it felt like when I was on stage. Everything fell away until there was only blissful silence. But unlike on stage when I was in that silence alone, this time I had Killian with me.
My step faltered just before we entered the doors. Killian, ever watchful, noticed this and turned.
“Baby?” he asked, searching my face.
“Is that what you are now? My boyfriend?”
The switch that had been flicked between us was enough to give me whiplash. I was screaming at him not two days ago, intent on never giving him my heart to hurt again.
Though I’d been lying to myself because he’d already had my heart. He’d had it since that moment in the garage.
I just had to remember Ava’s words. Love wasn’t hearts and flowers. It was pain. I just hadn’t realized how much. But even last night, the beauty of it, of waking in Killian’s arms, that one night of pure happiness was worth the four years of pain, crazy as it was. But I was sane. Crazy and sane at the same time.
Killian’s face softened. “Your mine and I’m yours.”
“So you’re my boyfriend,” I deduced.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Doesn’t seem like the right word, does it?”
No, it did not. Boyfriend seemed so inadequate to describe what Killian was to me. Even before everything, back when we were kids who floated in the naivety of first love, “boyfriend” seemed such a juvenile word to explain what Killian was to me. Now, with everything behind as and between us, it wasn’t right either.
“It’ll do,” I replied.
“For now,” Killian muttered.
I didn’t get the chance to think too hard on those two words because Killian pulled me in the doors to the hospital. We got a couple of second glances by nurses and orderlies as we walked to the desk. I had thrown on jeans and a tee, plus a leather jacket for the ride. I didn’t have a lick of makeup on and my hair was wild, but I guessed some people still recognized me. Hopefully no one felt like getting their fifteen minutes. I wanted just a second with my family, with Killian. Just a second to let it sink in and bathe in this moment just being Lexie. Not having a thousand eyes on me.
We were about to ask about Mom when, as if he had super senses, Zane emerged through double doors to our left.
His eyes immediately went to Killian and me. Then they travelled down to our intertwined hands. I shit you not, when he focused on them, he grinned. Not a small, half grin that Zane was known to do on occasion, but a full-blown, ear-to-ear grin.
This was the last response I expected Zane to have about Killian and me getting back together. I had been sure guns were going to be involved, not freaking smiles.
“Exie!” a little voice called and my attention moved to the little human running from Zane to me.
I bent down to pick up my little brother. “Peanut,” I murmured into his chocolate brown curls.
He yanked on one of my curls. I smiled at him, inhaling the baby scent of my little brother.
“Pretty,” he whispered.
My heart pulsed. I stroked his chubby cheek. He was three going on twenty, no surprises he was already a handsome three-year-old and a troublemaker. He had on a frickin’ Sons of Templar baby tee. It did not mean good things.
“I’ve got a new brother and he’s got little feet,” Rocko informed me.
“Is that right, Peanut?” I asked with a grin.
Zane and Killian slapped shoulders. “Congrats, brother,” Killian murmured.
Zane nodded. “Same to you, on a different front.”
Zane’s attention turned to me and I let the scrambling toddler out of my arms so he could run to Killian who immediately picked him up. I didn’t get the time to marvel in the beauty of that moment before Zane pulled me into his arms.
“Hey, Lex,” he murmured into my hair.
“How is he? How’s Mom?” I asked once he let me go.
“They’re both beautiful,” he said with twinkling eyes.
“Nothing’s wrong?”
He shook his head, his eyes glowing with pure, unfiltered happiness. It jolted me with its beauty. “Both perfect. For once, we’ve got smooth sailing.”
I grinned and for once it was real. The warmth of it lit up my whole face. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Your mom’s already waiting. I’ve tried to get her to sleep, but the first fuckin’ thing she demanded after she put him down was a goddamn latte,” Zane growled.
I laughed. “And of course you ran off and got her one,” I said knowingly.
“I was afraid for my life otherwise,” he replied.
I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’m happy for you, Zane,” I whispered. “I’m gonna go meet my new brother.”
Zane grasped my arm. “You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes. I knew what he was asking about, but I wouldn’t bring that in here, not let the presence of some crazy person lurk and pollute the happiness of this moment.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “I’m better than fine in fact.” My eyes flickered to Killian with Rocko in his arms.
Zane followed my gaze, the corner of his mouth turned up. He squeezed my arm and let me go.
Killian and I had been wrapped up in each other for as long as we could when we weren’t at the hospital or the club. It was the first place we’d been to after we left Mom and Zane at the hospital with their little family.
I’d been a little nervous walking into those doors again, but it felt like coming home. Bittersweet, but still right somehow. Mostly because of the man at my side with his hand in mine.
“Holy shit, Killian’s brought home a rock star!” Lucky had yelled when Killian and I had walked hand in hand into the club.
The memories of my last time there hit me like a physical thing. I tried my best to hide it, but Killian didn’t miss a thing. He gave me a sideways glance and squeezed my hand.
“Let her go. You’re hogging her,” Lucky whined, pulling me into his arms. He held me at arm’s length, clucking his tongue and regarding me. “You’re shorter in person.”
I grinned at him. It had been years since I’d seen him and he hadn’t changed one bit. He didn’t even look like he’d aged. The only thing that was different was the fact he was wearing a gold, wide-band wedding ring on his left hand. That made my smile bigger. I hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding since I’d been in Europe at the time and been dodging a certain person, but I’d sent him a gift. He deserved every ounce of happiness, especially after what he went through to get it. From what Mom told me, his wife, Bex, deserved a lifetime of it. I didn’t doubt that Lucky would give it to her.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I deadpanned.
He chuckled. “See, it took a baby to bring the prodigal daughter back where she belongs, with who she belongs,” he added with a wink, his eyes darting between Killian and me.
Killian’s hands squeezed my hips.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said with a grin.
Then I was treated with a huge welcome from my biker family, who I’d sorely missed. Each of whom didn’t treat me any differently or make a fuss over who I’d become.
Everyone just acted like no time had passed, like my absence was inconsequential. There were a few girls lingering around the edges of the room, ones I didn’t know, but whose place in the club was obvious.
I chose to ignore this and the evil thoughts that crept into my mind when thinking about Killian’s relationship with them.
Steg’s gray eyes had crinkled at the edges and he’d yanked me into a huge hug after I’d said hello to everyone else.
He kissed my head. “Glad to see you back, Lexie,” he said, his voice scratchy.
I grinned at him. “Glad to be back.”
His brows furrowed. “Been worried about you, not just with the sick fuck that’s after you. Four years is a long time to be walkin’ round with an open wound.” He glanced to Killian, who was leaning against the bar chatting to Cade, but his eyes darted my way every five seconds or so. “That’s what he’s been doin’. Bleeding continuously for four years. Been a grumpy fuck, too.” He grinned, though his eyes twinkled with sadness. “Not a romantic in any sense of the word, but I’ve got a woman who I’d take a hundred bullets for. Don’t treasure the th
ought of being separated from her for as long as you two were. Make sure he doesn’t try and push you away ‘cause of some fucked-up reasoning his bitch mother’s responsible for,” he ordered.
I nodded, blinking the tears out of my eyes.
His face went back to the bad-ass biker look, like he hadn’t just been talking of lost loves. “Good. Time to party.”
And party we did. Sam, Noah, and Wyatt had even turned up. The scantily clad girls who I’d been trying my best to ignore had swarmed them the moment they got there.
I hadn’t relished watching that, despite feeling warm in the presence of the family I’d sorely missed.
Seeming to sense my emotions, Killian’s arms had circled my hips, pulling me back into his chest. “Want to go home, so I can finally fuck you senseless like I’ve been craving all night?” he murmured in my ear.
My stomach dipped. “Yeah,” I whispered, my voice husky.
I’d thought “home” meant Mom and Zane’s place. I was too wrapped up in desire to realize how not okay that would be. Not because there wasn’t room, there was. Zane had gotten another couple of rooms built onto our house when it became apparent they’d need something bigger and Mom had refused to move. She had too many memories here, she said. Both good and bad, but she wouldn’t lightly say good-bye to the good just because of the bad. And because Zane would tattoo his face if Mom asked it, he built rooms so we had another family room and Rocko’s room. The nursery was upstairs in the old study, next to Mom and Zane’s. Mine was still downstairs off the kitchen. But I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in it with Killian.
So I had been both relieved and confused when he pulled up to the house after we left the club. His childhood home. I’d raised a brow after we hopped off the bike and he starting dragging me down the front walk. “We’re staying here? With your mom?” To say Killian didn’t like his mom was an understatement. Not that I blamed him, she was an evil shrew.
His jaw went hard and his face blank. “She died last year,” he said, voice flat.