by Elena Monroe
“I’m sure I didn’t experience all that you did, but I can relate to feeling so vulnerable that it physically hurts. Hurt people, hurt people and maybe you should figure it out before that girl downstairs gets hurt too.”
Turning away, I glanced over my shoulder, “She hurt me first, it’s only fair.”
I wasn’t being serious but Abigail bought it enough to not respond.
I wasn’t that childish to create a hurt-war solely based on her being ripped from my life. Neither of us had control over our youth, but it doesn’t change that I’m not the person she left behind.
I was protecting her from me.
Downstairs, Grimm was smearing some liquid over her leg where the tattoo was fresh when I walked into the kitchen again. “Did she tell you what it means?”
Grimm chuckled. “She’s tougher to crack now than before, Bo. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I’m waiting for the bomb to go off.”
The butterfly was all I could offer her as this person shaped by fear, torment, trauma, and shrouded in death. The butterfly stood for the last time I saw her break down and I was there for her when she needed me most. I figured maybe that butterfly could be her salvation while married to me.
When we were twelve Eve saved a butterfly. It was vibrant blue with its wings dipped in black, and when it died a month later, she cried for days.
I couldn’t bring it back to life or replace it before she realized. All I could do was hold her until her tears turned into a dry catatonic state.
My parents didn’t bother to give us boundaries growing up when they knew we would break them. For most of our childhood we hung out every day, slept in my bed, and even bathed together. We never tired of one another, shared the same memories, and acted married at an age that seemed aggressive.
Ironic, now we’ll actually be married and the way we’re acting couldn’t be further from that.
EVE
Bowen didn’t realize by giving me a butterfly it was waking a part of me that was ready to be myself again, even if it meant falling from grace.
He just proved he was holding onto parts of himself similar to ones I held onto.
This butterfly marked the change in our relationship. It was the moment I saw Bowen conquer his weaknesses and be strong for me. It was the moment that I realized we weren’t just best friends but something deeper, bound in ways the Clave only dreamed of.
The day the butterfly died was the day we were born.
Twelve
My mom had once again arranged for me to stay with the Astors while she lived her life and blew through men.
She was dropping me off on their doorstep more than she parented me. Bowen’s mom signed off on my homework every night, yelled at us to brush our teeth, and tried to be there for me in ways my mom wasn’t.
The day we came home from school and looked in my butterfly habitat to see the lifeless, limp butterfly lying down—it felt like everything shattered. I was demolished in a way I never knew such a tiny creature could incite. I felt like I didn’t have a mom, a home, and now I couldn’t even care for a butterfly.
I only ever cared about Bowey, no one or nothing else.
The kind of sob that shakes your shoulders and blurred rooms raged through me when Bowey wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding my body still like if I couldn’t be shaken by the tears, they’d simply give up and go away.
They didn’t.
The tears lasted three days, three whole days of not leaving his room, not attending school and mourning my blue butterfly. Neither of us was sure if his mom noticed or let it slide until she breezed in demanding that we get cleaned up.
It was never weird that Bowen and I shared a bed instead of me sleeping in the room designated for me in their mansion. It was always just us; it wasn’t cause for the mandatory sex education class we all had to take.
We weren’t at risk until I realized how strong Bowen was. All of it tucked away under the quiet exterior.
Bowen adored his mother, snapping up to make moves instantly upon her asking, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I felt weighed down by the first real blow of tragedy in my life.
How messed up is that? I didn’t even mourn my mother being absent half as much.
When Bowen realized I wasn’t planning on proceeding, he moved on, heading for the ensuite bathroom. I could hear the relentless water beating down from the shower he was preparing as I stared at the butterfly cage from his bed, wondering if my whole life would be one big blur of sadness now.
I held onto nothing except Bowen, and I always felt like I had to soak him up because at any minute he would be gone too.
Sick of my mouth.
Done with my trouble.
Over being best friends with a girl like every other growing boy.
When Bowen returned, he had a mess of fabric in his arms before he dropped fresh clothes next to me and held out a big towel. “Come on, enough mourning. Butterflies only get three days because they live for a hundred, and that one was pretty fucked up when you found him. He lived a good life, all because of you, Evey.”
I realized when he leaves, I’ll have to mourn even longer.
Standing up, I undressed myself and accepted the fluffy towel he wrapped around me before pulling me into his arms to place a kiss on my head. I was normally the strong one—beating up our bullies, trading my sandwiches with him, kissing away his stray tears caused by Braeden.
Bowen being strong was forcing me to hear my heartbeat in ways I never had before.
Only now it beat in the syllables of his name.
That was the moment I realized whatever this was… wasn’t just friendship. It was feelings and hormones and things I couldn’t yet explain.
Snapping out of my thoughts, Grimm’s hand touched my knee so lightly you would have thought he was scared of me. “You okay? Lightheaded?”
Sitting up, I found Bowen’s eyes stuck to my inner thigh. “I’m fine. All done?” I was speaking to Bowen, but I could feel Grimm searching for how to answer without pissing off the guy who had it stuck there.
“Uh, yeah. Just use vitamin E on it until it’s done peeling.”
Using my phone, I made sure the camera was pointed at my thigh giving me a perfect view to admire. Bowen coughed trying to slice through the air to get my attention, probably uncomfortable with my legs still being apart. “Eve. Legs.”
Years apart doesn’t change how well you know someone.
Closing my legs, I smirked at him, knowing he was watching intently the whole time. Grabbing my sweater from the chair, I slapped Grimm’s chest again, thanking him in my own way for the tattoo. “That’s my cue. The boss man will leave me here if I don’t make it to the car first.”
Wasn’t not true.
He was always threatening to leave me places, leave me locked out, lock his car before I even reach for the handle. Before I headed for the door, I watched Bowen hold out his closed fist for Grimm to push his knuckles against. There was an air of mutual respect, but it lacked familiarity that friendship lives on.
Crossing my legs in the front seat, I waited for Bowen to finally crawl into his car since I wasn’t exactly allowed to drive.
Not that I knew how.
Bowen turned, looking at me like I was precious cargo. After the tattoo, I already felt ready to give up the angel wings he assumed I had for horns. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I was used to the scowl and cruelty that any form of nice seemed unearned.
“Seatbelt.”
“Seriously? You aren’t even drunk…” His eyes bore into me, refusing to move until I did as I was told. I was collecting all the ways I disobeyed so he could punish me… even though he wouldn’t.
Leaning over me, close enough to drown in, he grabbed the seatbelt for and clipped it down at my side, knowing full well I wouldn’t be so easy to boss around.
As soon as he backed out enough, he floored it down the abandoned road, leaving a touch of adrenaline kissing my body. It
felt exhilarating to feel the cold breeze—the way it stopped me from breathing too deeply.
Not looking at me, he spoke, “They didn’t teach you any manners in Denmark, huh?”
They taught me more, it just depends on which version of me I’m comfortable being in the moment.
My head was full of the same dueling personality traits Bowen had: cruel on the weekdays, but on weekends, I could see how much he owned my ass.
Bought or not.
“Guess we’re even, you don’t have any either. Why did you strike so much in the contract? None of that matters as long as we get to be together,” I asked, still stuck on the moment he defended me then sealed it with a kiss.
Twisting in my seat, I tried to face him as much as I could against the leather bucket seats and seatbelt keeping me on my best behavior.
“Did you want to be referred to as merchandise?” His words fell flat, knowing that wasn’t what concerned me. He was smarter than he was acting right now.
Snaking out of my sweater, I let my skin glimmer against the streetlights, barely any of me truly covered, on purpose of course. I was constantly teasing him and wishing he would crack. “Not what I meant… splitting your assets with me? The clause about procreating?”
My cheeks flushed in a way that made it easy to see I was holding a secret inside. I needed to tiptoe around the truth in order to know how much Bowen knew about Denmark instead of assuming he was in the dark.
Shifting before his hands wrapped around the wheel even tighter, I saw his jaw tick, making it clear he knew something.
How damaged I truly am.
“If this doesn’t work, you get whatever you want, what is hard to understand? The rest is self-explanatory. Contracts, blood oath—shouldn’t you have asked about these things before?” Not even stealing a glance my way, I rubbed my thighs together, not sure how I still found him so sexy when he was being this much of an asshole.
He was doing all the legwork to make sure I was taken care of, and I just got to enjoy it.
He was protective and demanding in ways I never knew he could be.
He was stronger than I gave him credit for.
Looking between my legs, I could see the wing of the butterfly glossed over. “I’m marked for you now, but you aren’t for me...”
Finally pulling his eyes from the road, he looked at me with this devilish glimmer in his eyes. “How do you know I don’t have a butterfly somewhere?”
My body broke out in goosebumps just from the look in his eyes that screamed try me, never mind the words attached. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slowly closed in on him, reaching over the console that was barely there. My hand pressed into his thigh as I whispered against him, “Where?”
Ignoring me, he tried to keep his attention on the road when my lips found the crook of his neck and started sucking the sensitive skin, determined to leave him marked as mine if he wasn’t going to prove he was already.
“Evey, sit down. I’m driving. Do you want to die?” His voice was distorted and not backed with any real malice the way it normally was.
Licking the spot I sucked, I let my tongue drag up to his ear to whisper again, “Isn’t this a beautiful way to go? Do you think we’d go to heaven or hell? I wonder where butterflies go...” My hand slipped down his inner thigh, making him jump forward at my touch.
Pulling over onto the shoulder of the road, where the pavement stopped, and the rocks kicked up against the wheels, he put his car in park. He sat back, seeming more relaxed even though stopping the car wasn’t going to be a final warning.
Grabbing onto my wrist, he stopped my hand from rubbing the obvious bulge between his legs that started back in Grimm’s hallway when he lost some of his control. Now it was a problem trying to reign it back in. “Evey. Enough is enough. You’ve had your fun.”
My shorts acting like bloomers rode up between my legs, making me painfully aware of how wet I was getting just by being this close to him when he said my nickname.
It was an instant thirst trap and he was Famine for a reason. One look or touch and you were begging for more.
“Just show me, Bowey,” I pleaded as I went back to sucking on his neck in a new soft spot I could pinch with pink.
Letting my wrist go, his head dropped to the opposite side giving me more room to attack him when my hand brushed against him again. I could feel how hard he was below the zipper and it made me gasp at how big he under my hand.
Without much warning, I started unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, letting my hand slip inside without any protest from him.
New territory.
He was hard as steel and it only motivated me more to crack his exterior in any way I could.
“Fuck, Evey, you have to stop. Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? Fuck.”
The words slithered out of his mouth, attacking any reserve I had when I kissed up to his jaw. “Stop trying to control yourself, Bowey. I’m yours to fuck the angel out of…”
His head fell back against the seat, and his hand came up around me, smoothing up my thigh, his fingers dipping under the hem of my shorts to grab my ass with a firm hand. I was soaking through my shorts, and he was pulsing in my palm—both of us had zero control left.
Through his clenched teeth he groaned, “Maybe I like the angelic parts.”
His chest was swelling and deflating in a way I could tell he liked how my hand outlined his girth over his underwear. Dragging my hand up his length, I felt myself moan when his fingertips accidentally danced along the seam of my shorts over my pussy.
Jerking against my hand, I could tell he was close when his whole body tensed. Stopping my hand from working over him any longer, I saw his eyes turn a darker shade of gray when he chose cruelty over coming in my hand. “Evey, enough, okay?”
The guilt of pushing him into a corner hit me like a ton of bricks when I heard his voice sound tender and scared. Letting my hand go limp from trying to mold around him perfectly, I pulled it out of his pants and laid an innocent kiss on his jaw. “Okay, Bowey, nice and slow.”
Before he adjusted himself and did his pants back up, he pushed the band on his Versace underwear down, revealing a small blue butterfly with black detail on its wings placed right next to his hip bone.
BOWEN
Sitting up in bed, my hand ran over my chest, rubbing into the skin lightly where my heart should be.
Eve was across the hall, and I couldn’t shake the idea of her being damaged goods especially when her voice sounds so proportioned it makes me hate who they forced her to be.
Nothing about her was entirely Eve yet, except her flagrant disregard for behaving. I felt like the only person who was going to protect her the way she needed.
If I could grow some fucking nerve, I could explain how I needed her to protect me, but those just added up to poor attempts. They were normally crushed under my inability to control myself around her the way I had perfected by being not attracted to any gender in her absence.
I let her go way too far last night.
I cracked instead of breaking the way she wanted.
Eve was a force that you can’t control, and when she gets that look in her eyes that makes her eyebrows more placid, her mouth more pouty, and her nipples more visible, it’s better you just accept the fallout.
The fallout today was blue balls and a side of ache from trying to tell her what to do.
She felt holy in ways that would heal me in just one touch, and I wasn’t ready to be forgiven for my sins. I had been living with them for so long that I didn’t want to give them up for any reason. My sins turned into demons on my shoulders that got me through each day.
What happens when they are vanquished?
When I’m committed to a rebirth I don’t want?
Will my demons then come back with a vengeance?
Finally dragging myself from bed, I stood in the hallway leaning against my door, looking at the door she was behind. I wanted to knock, but everything betwee
n us made me keep my hands to myself.
Lost cause.
Damaged goods.
Better off dead.
The words were interchangeable to describe us. All these years between us and I could tell neither of us changed except in the ways that made our skin thick enough to survive.
Eve only spoke in tongues right now, blinded by all she missed out on and all of me wanted to fix that blindness.
Jogging down the stairs, I headed for the kitchen to grab a smoothie—my diet was that simple if it didn’t involve top shelf liquor.
I hit an invisible wall when I saw Eve utilizing the stovetop that I hadn’t ever even twisted on. I was convinced it didn’t work before she arrived, and I was okay with that assumption. Food, sex, being a good person—none of it was a priority. My only priorities were punching in, doing my job, being wasted enough to forget my job, clocking out, and repeat.
“Who cooks breakfast I didn’t ask for, Pretty Princess or the one that bites? No one told me you came already broken, good thing I bought it.” I took the long way around the island trying to avoid being too close.
I didn’t want the old parts of Eve that still existed under the pretty fucking princess routine to assess the damage of me up close.
She doesn’t wait hand and foot on people, she doesn’t let people disrespect her, and she doesn’t not talk back.
Her mouth was as deadly as her fists. Or least used to be.
Flipping a pancake, she smiled softly. “I got up early to make pancakes to celebrate cracking your surface last night. You know, letting me corrupt you the way you always used to let me.”
Let her? She was a fucking wrecking ball. I had no choice but to follow her lead every time she found trouble.
Grabbing a smoothie from the shelf of the fridge, I twisted the cap off and started downing it like it was a lifeline.
It was.
My jaw tensed and my teeth felt heavy when I retorted, “I don’t eat. Have you seen me eat anything the entire year you’ve been visiting?” Sarcasm wrapped around my words because we both knew the answer.