Mad Love (Guns & Ink Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I fell asleep eventually, albeit fitful. I woke up before her. The light coming through my window was brighter than normal. My skull pounded. I made it blindly to the kitchen and then to my pills, swallowing them down dry. The pain radiated throughout my face. It overtook my thoughts, turning them toxic and dangerous.

  I thought sitting down would help. It didn’t. I thought laying on the couch would help too. It didn’t. Coffee didn’t work. Thinking of punching the wall didn’t either. The painkillers took the edge off, but the edge wasn’t shit. My blood boiled. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it.

  “Klay?”

  No, I thought desperately. Not right now.

  I wouldn’t hold my tongue. I’d scare her. I didn’t want to scare her. I lifted my head from where I sat on the couch. With my left eye—I wasn’t opening my right—I fought to see her. “Go back in the room.”

  “Oh, Klay.”

  She ignored me.

  I ducked my head, fearing what would come out of my mouth.

  Chapter Eight

  Madison

  Klayton doubled over.

  Pain had etched deep lines on his forehead and around his mouth. He looked tortured. I had never felt guiltier in my entire life. But he touched me. He wasn’t supposed to touch me. Worse, he kissed me. He wasn’t supposed to kiss me. Even worse, I didn’t despise it. I was supposed to despise it.

  I hadn’t been expecting his lips to feel that soft and gentle. Klayton was the least gentle person I had ever met. He was crass and honest. I liked it. It helped me know what he was feeling, whether he was mad or simply aggravated. But he kissed me, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Not when it hadn’t hurt or reminded me of him. It didn’t remind me of Leigh either though. Leigh had been nothing like Klayton. And that was the problem. I was thinking of things I didn’t want in my head … or my heart.

  Sensing there was a dangerous tipping point on the brink of swallowing us both, I talked myself down quickly. Klayton won’t hurt you. You hurt him, and he hasn’t done anything to punish you for it.

  I placed my hands on his biceps, pulling him closer to me. His entire body stiffened. He tried to pull free, but I held on, feeling the hard, taut muscle in his arms tense beneath my fingers. Klayton was a large, muscled man. He was tall and buff, and if his tattoos didn’t tell you he was tough and unapproachable, his eyes did a good job at keeping people away. Instinctively, I should absorb that. My instincts would keep me safe. Instead, I fought them, going against what I knew would keep me safe for what Klayton needed. I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded, his deep voice radiating in his chest.

  Everything inside of me was recoiling. Men, skin, danger. Neither version of me understood what I was doing. “Hugging you.”

  “What for?”

  I tightened my hold. Maybe hugging was still mine too. He smelled like a man. A real one. A good one. Like cologne, sweat, and clean clothes. Alarms went off like crazy in my heart. Run! “You looked like you needed one.”

  He stood still in my arms. “Mad, I’m in a bad mood right now. It’s not good for us to be around each other.”

  Okay, so he didn’t want a hug. I hadn’t wanted to be kissed either. I nuzzled his chest with my face, trying to remember a time since I’d been taken where I felt this confident or risky. “When’s the last time anyone hugged you?”

  He sighed meanly. “Get off, Madison. I don’t want a damn hug. I don’t want anything.”

  But he didn’t sound nearly as mad as before. He remained tense, but I thought that had more to do with the fact that I was touching him than the actual hug. Which was about the time I realized he didn’t mind the hug. He didn’t want one from me. I released him quickly and hugged myself.

  “You can’t make rules and then break them.” Fury shadowed his hard face. “If you don’t want me to touch you, then you can’t touch me. I don’t want a hug. I want to not feel like shit.” He sank heavily onto the couch.

  The door opened, and Cat came in. She took one look at me and then at Klayton, and then she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You need to calm down, Klay. I can feel your anger from downstairs.” She touched my arm, giving me a small smile. “You okay?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know how I was. I hadn’t thought of anything other than Klayton since I punched him.

  “I opened an hour ago. Everything’s fine. We’re all booked for the day. I called your appointments, and they’re all willing to wait until you’re available. I gave the guys their cuts, took my huge cut, and deposited the money in the bank this morning. The only thing I need to know is what to do with a shipment of supplies that just came in.”

  “Shit. I forgot about those.” He stared morosely at nothing with his left eye. The sight of him made my heart crash. “I’ll come down and unload them later.”

  “Okay … they’re in the back waiting for you. If you need anything, call my cell.” She bent to kiss his forehead, whispering something I didn’t hear. “And you,” she said, pointing at me. “No punching.”

  I glared at her as she left. When she was gone, I still didn’t know what to do. “Do you—”

  “No,” he grumbled before I could finish.

  It was clear he wanted me gone. I didn’t blame him. I bit back my impulse to keep talking, and went to his bedroom to shower and change. Not wanting to push him further, I wore an entirely new outfit. New panties—despite my period—new bra, a new white short-sleeve shirt, and a pair of dark washed jeans with tears on the shins. It reminded me of something Cat would wear.

  In his bathroom mirror, I stared at myself. Every time I looked into my own eyes, it made my heart ache. I looked like me, but I didn’t feel like me. My bruises had faded to nothing. The makeup Klayton purchased was laid out neatly on his counter. At one point, I heard him come into his room, and then the sound of his body on his bed.

  I swept concealer under my eyes and then applied a loose powder to get rid of the rest of my bruises. The final product would look exactly like the old Madison Hart if I did my hair. She’d straighten it until it was a long, perfect golden curtain. Mad wrapped it into a bun, knowing in her soul she’d never care that much about what Madison cared about again.

  The last thing I did was spray some of the perfume Klayton bought on my neck and shirt. I had to admit it smelled delicious. So clean and fruity. I hadn’t paid attention the way he had obviously, and in retrospect, it made me smile a little picturing him smelling perfumes for me.

  Klayton had an ice pack on his eye when I came out. He made no move to acknowledge me, so I figured I’d give him what he wanted. I left his room as quickly as possible and went to his kitchen. Yesterday morning replayed in my head. The tink of his tongue ring on his teeth, the weird fire in his eyes. He’d looked at me in a way I didn’t understand. Maybe I’d grown used to his anger, and didn’t understand the other emotions he rarely showed.

  To save myself this morning, I poured cold coffee into a mug and put it in the microwave.

  “Madison! Come here!”

  Concerned, I rushed to his room. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you cooking breakfast?”

  “Yes …” I was unsure why he was so enraged. I hadn’t talked to him in at least an hour. “Am I not allowed?”

  He closed his eyes. I knew at that moment that our living together wasn’t going to work. He could hardly stand me. It put a lump in my throat. I started to leave when his voice whipped out.

  “You’d better not do what I think you’re doing.” He pushed to his feet and came for me, forcing me into the hall with only a look. “Look at my eye. When are you going to stop treading lightly? What do I have to do to prove to you that you have every right to be comfortable?”

  “You’re scaring me.” I couldn’t hear his words. All I saw was his anger. A spark of fear moved into my belly.

  “What have I done to make you think differently?” His brows were weighed down, darkening
his eyes.

  I couldn’t breathe. He was so big and mad. “Don’t hit me.” I blinked my tears away. Just in case I needed to see. To run.

  He placed his hands on either side of my face above my head on the wall. The angry furrows on his face left instantly. His eyes closed. “Mad,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I would never hit you.”

  I knew that. I knew it. But I didn’t. I didn’t know that. “I think Cat’s right. Maybe I should move out.”

  His eyes snapped open. “No!” he blurted out. “You’re not going anywhere.” He looked like he wanted to touch me, but he knew he couldn’t. “Madison,” he groaned, something that looked like worry and pain in his eyes. “I want you to stop acting like you’re a burden. You don’t have to keep acting that way in my house. You’re the only person I want around.”

  I wasn’t listening to him. All I wanted was for him to let me leave. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I didn’t like feeling this way. Men made me feel this way. He was a man again. I needed to run. I wanted to run. “Please,” I whispered.

  “Damn it!” he roared, sending his fist into the wall across from me. “Don’t do this.” He gazed at me openly. Not holding anything back. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you with me. I don’t mind, remember, Mad? I don’t mind. I thought you didn’t either.” He stooped to his haunches, looking up at me instead of towering over me. “Don’t leave. Tell me what I have to do to get you to stay? Tell me. I’ll do it.” He dropped to his knees, in the most non-threatening position.

  I tried to hear his words beyond my fear, but he’d triggered me, and nothing I did could slow my hammering heart, or the panic in my blood. He was on his knees, but his fist had made a hole in the wall. He had no problem hitting the wall. What made me sure he wouldn’t hit me too?

  The thought killed me. I cried so suddenly I didn’t have time to hold it in. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. Why Klayton? Why did he have to do this to me? He was the only person I felt safe around.

  “Oh, Madi.” His arms came around me. “Don’t panic.” He pulled me against his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I scared you. You don’t want to be around that. I won’t do it anymore. I’ll try my damn hardest not to be like that anymore. But you have to stay. You have to.” He wrapped me tightly in his arms and buried his face in my hair. “Don’t leave.”

  The idea of leaving made me cry harder. But at the same time, I knew if I left, I wouldn’t be in his way. I wouldn’t have to be afraid. Did I stay to be safe, or did I leave to feel safe? That he was making me choose between him and all the other monsters out there made it impossible to pull in a breath through my tears.

  “You own me now, Mad.” He put his lips over my ear. “Don’t leave, baby. Please. I would never hurt you. That’s your fear talking. You’re allowed to be afraid. But you’re not allowed to think I’d do that to you. I’m not a monster.” Something caught in his throat. “I promise I’m not.” His heavy breaths kissed my ear. “Don’t leave.”

  I sagged against him. I thought I had my answer the moment his arms came around me and I’d let them. “You can’t get mad the way you do.” I pulled back to meet his eyes. “Not anymore. If I’m allowed to be afraid, then you’re allowed to get angry. But you’re not allowed to remind me of what it felt like being forced into a dirty, bloody mattress.” I shoved him off me in a rush of anger. “You’re not allowed to remind me of him!”

  He hung his head, but still somehow maintained eye contact. “I never want to remind you of him. I don’t want to be a monster. I don’t want to scare you. I only want to make sure you’re safe.” He approached me with his arms outstretched in warning. His hands moved to cradle my face gently in his large grasp. He looked into my eyes. “I won’t scare you anymore. I’ll work on my anger. But you can’t leave me.” He guided my face close to his.

  I closed my eyes the second before his lips touched mine. My tear soaked lips melted against his. He kissed me deeply, so intensely, I knew why I’d stayed. For him. I’d stayed for Klayton.

  The softness of his kiss and the deepness of it had me reaching to grasp some part of him. I got his shirt, fisting handfuls of it as I got the first taste of him. My back hit the wall as he tilted my face higher, making it feel like I was reaching for his lips. Kissing was still mine. But it connected to other parts and emotions that weren’t. I pulled away, our breaths still kissing.

  Our eyes fanned open at the same time. Fire, wonder, and fear burned in his. I didn’t know if our emotions meant the same as our thoughts, but I was sure my own eyes looked the same.

  “I won’t leave,” I breathed, the heat of his breath kissing my tongue through my opened mouth. Our tongues hadn’t met once, but our lips had gotten to know each other well.

  He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed. “Thank you, baby.” He released me. “Come.” He went into his room. I followed at a distance, still off balance. I was heartbroken and lightheaded, unsure how the two emotions could exist at the same time, but they did. “Sit down.” He pointed to his bed and then went to the bathroom.

  I was sitting, unsure, when he returned a moment later with a towel in his hand. He stood in front of me and grasped my chin. With a questioning look in his eyes, I nodded, answering his unspoken question. He could touch me there.

  “Close your eyes.” I did so. He began wiping away my tears and makeup stains. His touch was gentle. He glided the cloth over my eyes and lips and cheeks. When he finished, he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “If I don’t tell you how I feel, it’ll come out in my anger. So, I’m going to tell you the truth every time.”

  I opened my eyes to find him crouching again. His eyes were burning from our confrontation, our kiss, or something else, maybe everything.

  “I kissed you in that kitchen because I wanted to. I kissed you in the hall because I needed to. Ask me why, Mad.”

  “Why?” I mouthed since nothing would come out.

  “Because I find you attractive.” I recoiled, appalled. But he had a hold of my face. He held me in place and came close. “I don’t think too hard about it. It’s just the way I feel. I feel attracted to you. And right now, I want to kiss you again. Your mouth drives me crazy. These soft pink lips.” He kissed them gently. “I want to kiss them right now. Maybe that’s why I didn’t say anything. Maybe I knew I wouldn’t want to stop once I started. And you’re not ready to go there,” he continued, when I’d pulled free and tried to move. He wouldn’t let me go. “From now on, I’m going to tell you what I’m feeling. If I don’t, it’ll go back in, and out in a way we can’t have anymore.” He rose to his feet, letting my face go. “You okay with that?”

  I glared at him. “Okay with what?”

  “Me wanting you.”

  “Do you want me?” It sounded to me like he only wanted parts of me. My body in his apartment, and my lips on his. That I could handle.

  Maybe he saw that, or maybe he knew; he shrugged in a manner that suggested he didn’t truly know himself well enough to answer that. “I want what you want me to have.” His jaw tensed.

  He was mad.

  “Klay,” I warned.

  He took a deep breath and started cracking his knuckles. “I don’t want to feel that way,” he admitted. “I don’t want to want you. I know you don’t want that, and I never feel this way. Never, Mad. It confuses me and worries me, which pisses me off.”

  It was the first time he’d put into words what he was feeling. The anger in his eyes immediately vanished, and so did my worry.

  “I can’t help what you want, Klayton.”

  “Trust me, I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, cringing in a way that made me remember that his eye still hurt. “Look. It’s my problem. Not yours. I’ll work on it. And I’ll let you know when it’s not working. Deal?” He held out his hand.

  I noticed he had a tattoo on his right hand going along the side of his hand to his thumb. It was script that connected with the tattoos on his wrist. I gave him my han
d to get a closer look, shaking back politely as I read the words. The depth of my feelings are as empty as the depth of me. The black script connected to a tattoo on his inner wrist. A black bird with its wings fanned out. The bird looked upside down as it flapped. Feathers fell away from his body, fading to the next tattoo. A tree. The feathers became a tree, and the base of the tree became flames, and the flames became eyes, and the eyes became a woman, and the woman became a heart, and the heart was black and lifeless. The depth of me is as empty as the depth of my feelings was tattooed around the heart, connecting his entire piece. It was beautiful. Sure, there was no emotion, but it looked like there was a lot of pain. Passion. Attention placed on feeling nothing like Klayton seemed to feel. It was the most emotional work of art I’d ever seen.

  “Done eyeing my piece?”

  I let his hand go. “I like it.”

  “That’s because you get it. You know how many people look at it like it’s all jumbled? They don’t see the story. But you followed the lines and the meanings. I have to admit, that’s a turn on.” He gave me a wink when I glared. “You ever think about getting a tattoo?”

  “No.”

  “Just a belly button piercing?” His expression was impassive.

  I was thankful. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Fine. What do you want to do?”

  The idea came to me out of nowhere, or somewhere, or maybe I didn’t want to know where it came from. “I want you to put your tongue piercing back in.”

  He frowned at me but shrugged. “Whatever you say, Mad. Where is it?”

  “In the bathroom on the counter.”

  “I have more, you know? You want to pick?” His mouth remained straight, but his eyes gave him away. They were mirthful on top of the emotions we’d been through.

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “Come check them out,” he offered. I followed him into his bathroom. He opened his medicine cabinet, reached in, and took out a clear box. He held it out and then placed it in my palm. “There you go.”