Marked

by Charisse Spiers

  "Can you give me a minute?"

  "For what?"

  "I just need to go to the bathroom."

  "Okay, but hurry up. Come back naked. I'll go pull the cover off for the Jacuzzi."

  He moves out of the way to let me down. I rush toward the master bathroom, running pretty much the entire way. My first stop along the way is the closet, pulling open the door and running to the back of my side. I dig toward the back of all my hanging clothes where it's hidden, pulling out the designer lingerie I found a long time ago that I couldn't pass up but have yet to wear. It just never felt right.

  I quickly remove my clothes, all of them, leaving them in a heap on the floor of the closet to pick up later, and then remove the band of material I had wrapped on the hanger above the sheer floor-length skirt, rehanging the hanger to temporarily free up my hands. It takes me a few minutes to figure out how the center of the band wraps from behind the neck and crosses at my collarbone, before running over my breasts and then behind my back where it ties, only covering my nipples and the center of my breasts.

  I open my panty drawer and grab a pair of black thongs, pulling them on, before removing the wrap around skirt from the hanger and wrapping the sheer skirt around my waist from behind, tying the silk sash-like waistband in front to secure it. The band of black feathers lines the bottom hem like a boa. I run my fingers through my hair, tousling it, before grabbing a pair of black stilettos and pulling them on my feet.

  I walk out of the closet and shut the door, continuing to my jewelry box. I grab my small diamond studs, the one real thing I've bought for myself. I saved for a year for them. They're sentimental. They're mine. I worked my ass off to get them without anyone else's help and I haven't worn them in a while. I save them for special occasions. I think this makes for a great one.

  I look at myself in the mirror, taking my eyeliner and touching up my eyes from the tears, before adding a small amount of powder to my face. For the final touch I add lip-gloss and rub my lips together. "There. Much better."

  The sound of something falling catches my attention. I walk to the bedroom door and open it, peeking my head outside. "Kaston," I call out. "What was that?"

  Another loud bang sounds, and movement, but no words from him. "Kaston, are you down there?"

  A sinking feeling occurs in my stomach when I hear something grunt, sounding more like the effects of someone becoming the victim of blunt force trauma. Something doesn't feel right. I tiptoe in my heels down the hall, turning toward the kitchen. When I reach the entry of the kitchen I stand against the wall, peeking around just enough to see. It's empty. Another loud but foreign sound occurs, causing me to jump. "Fuck," I whisper, panicked. "Where the hell are my guns?"

  I step onto the tile floor and my heels make a tapping sound against it, halting me. I reach down and remove them, easing them onto the floor quietly. I'm shaking, suddenly terrified and I have no idea why. It's probably nothing and I'm being paranoid. Maybe he just stumbled. Multiple times? Kaston? No way. I quickly walk across the floor to the counter and grab a butcher knife from the block, gripping the handle in my hand by my side.

  I walk toward the sounds from a few moments ago at a snail’s pace. Glass shatters in the direction of the patio, causing me to take off running. The glass in the door is in a million pieces, as if someone was pushed through it. My knees weaken as shards of glass stick in the bottom of my feet, almost sending me to the floor. I catch sight of a man's back, one that I recognize, and one that isn't Kaston. The shouting voice that I've heard a million times confirms it, sending me rushing out the door, bleeding and all.

  Kaston is pinned against the wall of the house with a barrel aimed between his eyes, Callum holding it in place. I can’t breathe. My body starts to tremble. When you hear about those people that say they experienced their entire lives flash before their eyes, but you never really believe them because it just sounds too out there, well, now I do, because I’m experiencing it. He is my life, and if Callum pulls the trigger it will end. I barely move, trying not to be heard. I’m surprised he hasn’t already as the glass crunched beneath my feet. "You're always in my way. I had her first. She’s mine. As long as you're here, you're going to be a problem for me. I can't let her go. I won't. I've tried to play nice. I even killed for her, yet you're the only one left standing between me and her. Not anymore."

  What did he just say? Killed for me? My eyes widen. Oh, God. It all fucking makes sense. That night I confessed things, releasing them out in the open. Mom…

  "You think you have enough balls to pull the trigger? Do it. Blow my fucking brains out. I guaranfuckingtee she still won’t want you, because she’s better than you. You're the one that will have to pay for it, and without the girl. She. Doesn’t. Want. You.”

  “Shut up. Just shut up. I gave her everything. I fucking hate you. All of this is because of you.” He presses the barrel into Kaston’s skin with more pressure.

  “No one wears blood on their hands without paying for it. You think shoving drugs down her mother’s throat is proving you love her? You’re wrong. That’s only crippling her. You’re adding hurdles to her path. Love is just a word unless you have the actions to back it up. You want me gone to prove what I’m telling you? Are you pissed off that I beat your ass? Prove your manhood. I've had enough of you. Do it, motherfucker."

  My mind has timed out. I’m trying to move and I can’t. All the information is overloading my mental state. Kaston grabs the barrel in his fist and holds it to his head tighter, creating a firm hold so that the barrel doesn’t waver from the lack of experience in the user. My heart becomes the control center over my body for where my brain is currently in shock, instructing my actions. What the fuck is he doing? Oh my god. A fear runs through me that I've never experienced. I can't stop shaking. I can't even spend time to evaluate what came out of Callum's mouth, or Kaston’s. As if my heart was just shocked with electric paddles, my limbs form movement, operating through instinct. My fears turn into reflexes. I don't think. I do.

  Rushing toward them, I bring my left arm up, my fist beside my ear, and then force my lower arm forward, driving the blade into his back until the only thing visible is the handle. “No one takes him from me,” I whisper. My breathing becomes thick, heavy, and harder to control. A smothered grunt is the only sound I hear from him before his knees weaken, bringing him to the floor, his grip around the gun loosening before he drops, remaining in Kaston's hand.

  I look down at my hands trembling. What the fuck did I just do? I glance at Callum, now lying face down on the floor, blood starting to pool. Tears begin to fall, realizing that I've just killed someone, driving a knife through his heart, adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Kaston squats beside him but I can't focus. I stare out but see nothing but a blur.

  Hands grip my face, causing me to jump. "Shh. It's me. Kaston."

  My vision clears a little. He's staring into my eyes. "I didn't mean to. I thought he was going to take you from me. I didn’t know what else to do. He keeps coming back. He wouldn’t stop. I've never been so scared."

  "Remember what I said. Together forever. I'm not going out in a box without you. I had a plan, baby. It's going to take someone smarter than a fucking amateur to bring me down. He just caught me off guard is all. Come here," he says, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. "You're trembling. I will fix this."

  Trigger.

  I push him away, suddenly angry. "Stop trying to fix everything, Kaston. That's your fucking problem. You're always trying to bear everyone else's pain and loss, never letting yourself deal with your own, yet you want to sacrifice everything to take mine away. Not once have you shown me grief over your father. Not once have you given yourself an out over what happened to your sister when your father died over the same battle you're still fighting. The world is shitty. No one but God can change that. Evil will always prevail no matter how many times you eliminate it. That's why it's evil, because it spreads at a rate that is unstopp
able by mortals. It's my responsibility to bear my own sins, my own mistakes, my own demons, and the damage from things that have been done to me. All I need from you is to love me through it. It just took me a while to figure that out. I fucking did this. I knew what I was doing."

  I walk closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck, before jumping in his arms. He catches me, just as I knew he would. "And I would do it again...for you. His heart was no good anyway. You think you're the only one that can give epic speeches that melt the heart? Well you're wrong. If you're a killer I'm a killer. You can never say I wouldn't kill for you, because I just proved that I will. I need you probably more than you need me. You are every bit as important to my survival as the air I breathe. My world doesn't turn without you in it. My heart doesn't beat if you aren't near. My lungs won't work without you giving me air, and I don't exist without you here. I will never fucking leave your side again unless you send me away. Die or survive, I don't care, as long as our bodies are side by side. We're two of the most fucked up people there could ever be, but that makes our love more beautiful than most. Some couples ride off into the sunset, but we own the night, because sometimes...love is born in the dark."

  Something happens that I wasn't expecting. A single tear falls from the eye of the strongest man I've ever met. "I fucking love you with every portion of my soul." Then he kisses me, showing me with actions where words fall short.

  Most people probably wouldn't understand loving a man that can be ruthless enough to commit murder, but that's what makes him amazing. He can submerge himself into a world so dark that most wouldn't find the light, but then he can walk right back out as if he knew the way the entire time. I don't care what he's done, or what he decides to do from here on out. I will stand by his side until the end, because no matter how many times his hands are stained with blood, with another soul, his heart is still pure, and that's how I know that every life he takes is every bit deserved. He is a grim reaper in human form, just like the tattoo that he represents. Someone has to fight for the innocent, because if not the breed will become extinct.

  This is my love story...and it's a damn good one if you ask me.

  One month later...

  “I still cannot believe we’re in Paris. This is fucking insane.” I smile. The best reactions are always the honest ones. “You have got to be the best boyfriend on the planet.”

  I’m sort of hoping she’ll be calling me something else later...

  I put my arm around her, waiting for the taxi to arrive at our destination. I’ve been planning this since I told her I’d bring her here. Well, parts of it. There has been a recent addition to the itinerary.

  She squeals and starts bouncing up and down in her seat, pulling from my hold, and then moves toward the window. “The Eiffel Tower! Look at it lit up against the dark sky. This is better than sex.”

  “Hey. No go, beautiful. Don’t think I won’t do things to remind you. With me nothing better be better than sex.”

  She turns to look at me and rolls her eyes. “Men are hopeless. I have never seen anything more beautiful than that.”

  I look at her in her strapless, pink dress, sparkling each time it hits light, her hair straight and her makeup done flawlessly, against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower all lit up now that it’s dark outside. “I have,” I say honestly.

  “Do not be a cheese-ball and say me, Cox. We both know that’s not true.”

  “You have your opinion and I have mine.”

  “You can be so stubborn. I love that about you, you know.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  The car stops. “Touché. So...what’s the plan?”

  “You’ll see soon enough, beautiful.”

  “Really? You’re killing me. We’re in the middle of Paris, staring across the way from the Eiffel Tower and you’re still going to try to pretend it’s a surprise? Show your cards, handsome.”

  I smirk. “A good player never shows his cards unless he’s sure he has the win in the bag.”

  I hand the driver money and open the door, before grabbing her hand and stepping out. She slides across the seat and follows me, adjusting her dress when she stands. I shut the door and the driver pulls out, leaving us here...at our destination. She places her hands underneath her boobs and looks down at herself, before she starts pushing them toward her, drawing my attention. “Well, you made me buy an expensive dress. It must be something good.”

  Each time she pushes up from underneath her boobs, her cleavage becomes more pronounced. My mouth is starting to salivate and my cock is getting hard. “Lux.”

  She looks up. “What?”

  “Unless you want to be arrested for indecency in a foreign country I advise you to stop touching your tits.”

  She drops her hands and does her attempt at a curtsy. “As you wish, your highness.” Her signature wink confirms she’s being a smartass. If you can’t beat the player, get your ass in the game and play with her. That’s the only way to be with her. I take a deep breath, still looking at the woman in front of me that’s mine. “What? Do I have something on me? Shit, where?”

  I laugh and then grab her hand, pulling her into the crook of my arm. “No, beautiful. I was just admiring the view.”

  We walk side by side into the building, before a middle-aged man in a black tux, similar to mine, greets us. “Reservation pour deux. Cox.”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye when he searches for our reservation. “You can speak French? Since when?”

  “There are a lot of things you still have to learn about me, beautiful. As you know I went to grade school in another country. In some things they are far more advanced than Americans,” I say and wink.

  “Right this way, sir,” he says back in English, and steps in front of us, leading to the elevator.

  She’s lost focus, looking straight forward as we walk. I grab her hand. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what,” she asks.

  “Thinking you’re inadequate compared to me. Stop it.”

  “Sometimes it’s obvious, especially if you noticed.”

  We step into the elevator. “Nope. I just had more seasoning than you at an early age. I kind of like you raw. That only means I have a longer bucket list. We have our entire lives to catch you up.”

  She squeezes my hand. I pull the back of hers to my lips. The elevator stops on the top floor, and then opens to a small corridor with a door on the other side. He steps into the door, holding it open for us to exit. I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her. “Where are we?”

  I say nothing, continuing to the door until within reach to open it. She steps outside onto the rooftop, lit up with soft, I style lights, set up with a private table and two place settings. Music is playing low. The Eiffel Tower is the backdrop. I look at her as she takes it all in. She has her hands over her mouth, creating a line in the center that resembles a steeple. “What is this,” she asks.

  “Well, I remember when you told me that you wanted to come to Paris, you said you wanted to eat a four-course meal with a five-star chef, so that’s what I had to do. Plus, taking you out at home is next to impossible if it doesn’t involve Mission Impossible stunts. If I have to bring you to another country to take you to dinner then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Your waiter will be here shortly, sir.” He lightly bows when I look at him and nod my understanding, and then walks back out in the direction we entered.

  I look back at Lux and she’s walking toward the edge. She stops and places her hands down on the wall that rises about waist high, surrounding the entire rooftop, looking out at the Eiffel Tower and the city. I join her, placing my hands on her bare shoulders. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “That no one has ever done anything like this for me.”

  “Get used to it. I told you I’m here to make your dreams come true.”

  She lays her head against my chest. “Going to school is a dream, Kaston. This is more like a f
airytale.”

  “Then dance with me.”

  “What about your dream?”

  “You are my dream, Lux.”

  She turns around in my arms. “I haven’t danced like that since I was a little girl.”

  I’m a little confused. “Didn’t you go to things like prom?”

  She gives me a half smile. “I didn’t really fit in at places like prom. That involved meeting parents, taking pictures. My mom had a reputation that mothers didn’t want their sons around. I was usually the girl that guys called for the after party.”

  Every time she says shit like that I get pissed off, wanting to beat on my chest like a caveman and then lay out every person that has ever hurt her. After Callum basically admitted to being the reason Lux’s mother overdosed, it gave her some closure that she didn’t have before. When it was done I made her dress and leave, giving her my credit card to go shop. She may have killed him, but there are some things you shouldn’t expose the person you love to, and disposing of a body into a form to never be found would be the biggest. There are some aspects of this life she doesn’t need details on.

  I haven’t taken a hit since before that day. I have some in files pending for acceptance, but I’m still unsure if I want them or not. I’m not saying that I’ll never take another mark, because there is something deep inside of me that I believe is meant to fight for those that can’t fight for themselves, but for now I’m on a break to make some decisions, and I’m content building the private investigation firm and getting to know Lux, because that girl has so many layers it’ll take years to get through them all.

  After I got a taste of what it felt like to almost lose her I realized exactly how much I really love her. My day starts with her and ends with her. Usually she’s even present somewhere in between, and you know what? It’s the best fucking thing in the world. We’ve become domesticated, in a routine. Over the past month I’ve actually realized how sorry I feel for my dad, knowing he went through a life of solitude, and living without the one person that made his life complete. He sacrificed his wife for his kids, love for honor, and because of him I cherish her. I am more grateful for this. It’s made my feelings so much stronger, which brings me to tonight.