Rage & Bullets

by Skyla Madi

  I run my tongue along the split in my lower lip and wince. How’d he hit the same spot twice? I press the back of my hand against my mouth. I’m not fucking doing this.

  “I love her!” He begs, his eyes glistening with tears.

  It knocks the wind out of my lungs, filling me with empathy—empathy I don’t want to feel.

  “I love her more than anything and he has her! He’s doing God knows what to her...”

  Joel misplaces his footing and I step forward as he keels over, clenching his stomach. My lips throbs as more blood rolls over my tongue. I don’t want to help him and the feeling sinks into my stomach like a rock.

  My big brother.

  I turn away from him and head back towards the house.

  “Jai, please. I need you!” He shouts, his sadness and anger punching holes through the wind. “I need my brother!”

  I flick my shoulders, dipping my head to push through the wind.

  I don’t have a brother.

  Not anymore.

  Beastly

  Emily

  Ever so gently, I press the edge of the stitch that runs along Huss’s cheekbone and he winces before shooing me back with a slap on the hand.

  “Stop!” He hisses, his perfectly shaped eyebrows pulling together as he bares his teeth at me.

  I snap my hands to my chest and roll my eyes. You can’t look at this guy without him crying “ouch”. You know, that’s probably what I hate most about working in the hospital—the hypochondriacs. You’d be surprised how many people exaggerate an ache or injury. I get some people have lower pain thresholds, but come on. A common stress headache doesn’t even come close to the thrum of one associated with a brain tumor.

  “Jesu—will you let the girl check your stitches?” Ted protests with a mouth full of pancake. “You’re acting like a motherfucking child.”

  Huss sneers, folding one of his thick arms over his chest. “Well, it fucking hurts.”

  “You know what hurts me?”

  “I was in a car accident. I don’t give a shit what’s hurting y—”

  Ted swallows his food and points the tip of his fork at Huss. “That damn shirt you’re wearing. What color is that anyway? Pansy pink?”

  Chuckling, I head over to the sink. Looking back over my shoulder, Huss pinches the bright fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

  “It’s salmon! How many times do I have to say it?”

  “And how many times do I have to tell you that’s not fucking Salmon.” Ted argues. “It’s pinker than the nipples on an albino.”

  I snort as I turn away and reach for the soap. I pump once and foam up my hands. There’s never a dull moment when you’re stuck with Ted and Huss. The conversations these men have are ridiculous, inappropriate, and downright disgusting.

  “Do albinos even have pink nipples?” Huss asks and I glance over my shoulder.

  He scratches his head, the tips of his fingers running over the flaming skull tattoo that I hate so much. They both ponder the question before peering at me for an answer. I pull my head back in offense, contorting my face. Are they kidding? First of all, it’s inappropriate to ask such a question and second of all, whether or not albinos have pink nipples isn’t something I’ve ever felt the need to ask—or Google.

  “How am I supposed to know? Do I look albino to you?”

  “You are a little pale.” Huss points, receiving an agreeing nod from Ted.

  I scoff. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  Turning, I hit the tap and water shoots out. I stick my hands underneath the thin jet and let the water blast the soap off my skin. They howl with laughter while I ignore them.

  “Tell us, Kitten. Are your nipples pink?” Huss asks, his voice thick with humor and genuine interest.

  Shutting off the tap, I turn around and face him as he sits on the wooden bar stool opposite Ted, his knees pressed against the dishwasher.

  “You should ask Jai.” I tell him, a wicked smile spreading my lips. “He knows.”

  Ted lifts his arms, surrendering from the conversation. “Oh no. I’m bowing out of this one. Jai will kick your already disabled ass and I want nothing to do with it.”

  Huss looks at Ted. “You scared?”

  “Scared? Nah. I’m smart. Besides, fucking with a girl like her? No thanks.”

  Because that’s not offensive. For a girl who has major daddy issues—which I mentally admit—I like to impress every male I meet to some degree. I mean, what girl doesn’t like to feel desired and pretty? Show me one and I’ll show you a liar.

  “A girl like me?” I ask, leaning back on the bench. “What’s wrong with girls like me?”

  “You’ve all got that crazy look in your eyes. It’s unsettling.”

  “That crazy look?”

  “Uh-huh. The ‘I will saw your dick off with a blunt pair scissors if you do me wrong’ look—and don’t you dare feign innocence. I distinctly remember you attacking me like a bat out of hell the first time I showed up.”

  “Jai didn’t tell me you were coming. I panicked.”

  “You almost choked me to death. You know what? It doesn’t matter. My mom would whoop my ass if I ever brought a white girl to family dinner anyway, especially after the last one.”

  Huss snorts, his gray eyes flaring with interest. “She doesn’t like white girls?”

  “She likes white girls...provided I’m not pumping babies into them.”

  Ted scoops up scrambled egg with his spoon and stuffs it into his mouth. When he realizes Huss and I are staring at him he shrugs, swallows, and explains: “She’s very proud of her heritage and doesn’t want to water down the family tree.”

  Huss laughs once and grips his glass of clean, cold water. “That’s messed up.”

  “That’s my momma.”

  Ted chuckles as Huss gulps down his drink. Emptying his glass, Huss places it on the kitchen bench and swipes his forearm over his mouth before grinning in my direction. Smug bastard.

  “So?” He hints, tipping his head back ever so slightly.

  “So...what?”

  “Your nips. What color are they?”

  He gives me a naughty smirk, the kind of smirk Jai would kill him for. To be honest, I’ve never been a one man kind of girl...until recently. The thought of committing to one person—to one soul—is unsettling. Curiously, I decide to take the opportunity to test myself and to test the intense feelings I have for Jai by attempting to return the suggestive smirk. Can I do it? I feel my face pinch together, my muscles forcing themselves into a scowl. I guess I’m a changed woman. Is that how deeply Jai affects me? Do I care for him so much that I don’t want to be with anyone else? Biologically speaking, Huss should make me all kinds of hot and bothered. He’s tall, hot, confident, and has just the right amount of inappropriateness about him, but the need just isn’t there. I wouldn’t have thought twice about banging him back in my ‘pre-Jai’ days...but now it’s different. Now I don’t want to share my body with anyone else.

  Thunderous steps boom across the patio, growing louder and louder. Then, and only then, does a smirk tug at the corners of my lips.

  Because I know the heavy feet causing such a frightful ruckus belong to my beast.

  “Ask him.” I tell Huss, smiling victoriously.

  The door flies open, its thin wood slamming against the wall of the house, and there he is.

  Every angry inch of him.

  Jai’s shoulders are squared, his eyebrows furrowed, and his handsome face is marred by a bleeding split in his lip. I’m guessing the talk with Joel didn’t go well.

  Jai storms through the kitchen, as violent and as lethal as a tornado, before barging up the stairs, his feet dropping like stones against the floorboards.

  Huss turns back to his plate and lifts his fork. “I’ll pass.”

  Sipping his juice, Ted snickers. Behind the murderous Jai, Joel jogs in. His face is wild and angry, but his eyes give him away—panic and disappointment, emphasized by the gleam of regret. J
oel heads for the stairs, but he’s not climbing them. Not on my watch. I push off the bench and swiftly cross the room. Slipping in front of Joel, I block his path to upstairs. I won’t let him upset Jai further. Not today.

  He calms his breathing, forcing it through his nose. “I just want to apologize. That’s all.”

  I shrug. “Give him a minute.”

  If I let Joel upstairs with Jai now—in the state he’s in—I know Jai will end up doing something he’s going to regret later. I saw the darkness in Jai’s eyes when he entered the house and it wasn’t anger from the pressure his brother has put on him.

  It was rage.

  Murderous rage.

  Team that with the fact Joel had apparently hit him in the mouth and you have the perfect cocktail for one lethal man.

  Goosebumps prickle up my arms, over my shoulders and up behind my ears before dancing along my scalp. To be honest, I’m a little scared. I’m scared by the lack of emotion I felt from Jai when he entered the house. It makes me shudder…the last time I sensed that similar lack of humanity inside of him was when he fought in the tunnels underground.

  He was vicious.

  Cold.

  He was another man—possessed by a demon who had an insatiable thirst for blood.

  Jai enjoyed it. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed beating his opponents to a pulp, and I know his brother isn’t exempt to such punishment. The way I see it, I’m doing Joel a favor by not letting him upstairs, especially if he likes his pretty face the way it is.

  He tries to maneuver his large, lean body past me. “I told you I only want to apologize.”

  I block his path, slamming my hand into the wall in front of his chest and look him dead in the eyes. “And I told you to give him a minute. Test me and I’ll make it so you never see your precious Monique again. Understand?”

  Do I look like I’m playing? Do I look like I’m stopping him from going upstairs for fun?

  No.

  And I swear to God I will cut a bitch if he tries to push past me.

  Our eyes remain locked. His eyes swimming with scenarios, analyzing different ways to get past me without shoving me to the side. A small eternity passes before he allows his body to slump, relaxing the ropes of muscle in his torso.

  “Fine. Have it your way.”

  He slinks away, strolling slowly down the hall to his room, guilt and sadness heavy in his steps.

  Thank God for that. I exhale and relax my own muscles as I place both hands on my hips. At this point, I’m kind of glad I’m on my own. Outside of myself, there’s no external pressures on me. I do what I want when I want and it doesn’t affect anyone else.

  Turning, I bound up the stairs, unable to shake the need to comfort Jai. One by one my conscious mind slips memories to the front of my mind—vivid memories of all the times I denied anyone comfort, choosing to treat them like a leper instead of a friend.

  You’ve never wanted to comfort anyone before—not even Holli Peterson when her husband died—and she was the only one who spoke to you when you were trying to become a nurse. Maybe you’re falling in lo —

  I gulp, gripping the thin, wooden banister in my hand.

  Maybe I should WebMD the symptoms I’m having. I trust the experts on that site will squash my fears of the dreaded ‘L’ bug, diagnosing the way my heart pounds and my head spins as some kind of life threatening bowel issue.

  That I can handle.

  It’s not that I don’t want to fall in love, the thought of it is nice, it’s just…the attachment.

  I can’t handle the attachment.

  I know, deep down, I’m someone who can get a little too attached and, because I’ve kept it at bay for so long, what if it’s too much?

  What if he crushes my fragile heart under the heavy heel of his boot?

  Then what?

  Sweet Seventeen

  Jai

  In the darkness, my eyes flutter open and I turn my head toward the window, but there’s no light. How long have I been up here? Seventeen hours, at least. What time is it? I blink, straightening my head to look up at the ceiling. Fuck, my mouth hurts. I run my tongue over the split, tasting the lingering hints of cream Emily rubbed into my lip. Her head is heavy on my chest, her arms draped over my ribs. Her skin is warmer than mine, her heart beating at a relaxed pace against my side. In the silence, I hear her stomach rumble. Her food intake today was practically non-existent because she preferred to sit here and watch me sulk all day. In those moments of concern and comfort, when she lets her guard down, I feel like she cares about me the way I care about her. I feel like a future with her is possible. Who would have thought that I went to the darkest depths of hell and found an angel? I’ve never been a firm believer in fate, but the circumstances on which we met are too strange to rule as a coincidence.

  She is my person...and I fucking love her. I love her so much it makes me sick and, as luck would have it, the only girl I’ve ever loved will never accept it because she doesn’t think she’s worthy of love.

  Just. My. Damn. Luck.

  Love doesn’t discriminate. Love is pure, an accumulation of all the good feelings and none of the bad. Good luck trying to convince her of that though. It’s like flogging a dead horse. Is that the saying?

  Karma is an asshole. I bet she’s enjoying this. All those girls I parted ways with because I didn’t feel the same...and now I’m the idiot who has fallen head over heels for someone who can’t bring herself to return it.

  Reaching out, I press the button on the top of the alarm clock and a bright blue light lights up the room, burning my eyes. Squinting, I try to work out the numbers. Three. Five. Seven. I blow out an exhale. Four o’clock in the morning and I’m awake...now what?

  I glance at Emily’s sleeping face, resting peacefully on my chest. I love the light spattering of caramel freckles that flow from one of her cheeks to the other. I love the darkness of her hair and the curve in her top lip. I love her height, her milky complexion, and the rise of her breasts.

  The light from the clock shuts off, darkening the room.

  Fuck Skull for threatening to take her from me. I’ll kill him for it.

  I shut my eyes in an attempt to put myself back to sleep, but thought after thought flicks by—my thought train too erratic to ignore now—and that’s when I hear the handle on the bedroom door creak. I inhale through my nose, calming the sudden spike in my pulse and lessening the adrenaline that leaks into my blood. Slowly, I reach between the bed and the bedside table. The tips of my fingers slide against the handle of my handgun and slip into place, my index finger firm against the trigger. Gently, I lift it, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

  “Jai?”

  Joel? I lower the gun, feeling stupid for reaching for it in the first place. If Skull knew where we were, he’d make a show of it. He wouldn’t sneak into my bedroom at four in the morning.

  “You awake?” He whispers through the darkness.

  My pulse returns to normal as my lungs regulate the oxygen a little better and I run my warm palm over my face.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we talk?”

  I ponder it. Now that yesterday’s drama has worn off I feel stupid for pumping myself up. I shouldn’t have stormed out like a child. I shouldn’t have punched the tree or antagonized Joel. I’ll be the first to admit that.

  Last night, Emily told me I should accept the fact Joel has changed and that I should honor his relationship with Monique. I guess if he’s willing to die for her that makes her family too. I’ll give him one more chance to justify breaking in to Skull’s home to save her.

  One.

  I exhale. “I’ll be down in five.”

  He closes the door and Emily stirs.

  “If that was your brother I’m going to kick his ass.” She mutters, her voice husky with sleep.

  She lifts her head off my chest and drops it onto her pillow. I smile, rolling onto my side and draping my arm over her waist.

  “You’d figh
t my brother for me?”

  Her warm, soft hand snakes up my stomach, making my muscles clench under her gentle touch.

  “For you? Yeah.”

  I lean in close, until my nose touches hers. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Don’t go.” She whispers, sliding my hand from her waist to her naked breast. “We have better things to do.”

  Angling her head, she raises it and I kiss her mouth, stroking the side of her face with my finger. “Sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Without protest, she frees my hand and rolls over, tucking her arms under her pillow.

  I exhale again, disappointed I have to get out of my warm bed and sit in the cold air to have the same discussions I’ve already had with Joel. Will it end the same?

  Eventually, I manage to drag myself out of bed. I swipe at my blurry eyes as I bend down and scoop up my thick, gray sweatpants. As quietly as I can, I slip into them and chuck on a hoodie before exiting the room and descending the wooden stairs with heavy feet.

  In the kitchen, Joel is sitting on the bench, his socked feet resting on one of the stools. From the kitchen, I can see into the sitting room where Huss and Ted are passed out, one on each couch, their snores vibrating the wood underneath my feet.

  “It’s no wonder you can’t sleep.” I say, sauntering up to the kitchen bench.

  Letting a soft smile curve his lips, Joel nods and pushes an empty glass in my direction.

  I cock an eyebrow and notice the drunken heaviness in his eyelids. He’s been at this a while. Unscrewing the thin, metal cap Joel pours the booze into my cup, half filling it with straight whiskey.

  “It’s four in the morning.” I point out, accepting the glass anyway.

  “But the sun isn’t up and that’s good enough for me.”

  Joel watches as I lift the glass to my lips and take a small sip. The tiny amount of booze is enough to set my mouth and my tongue alight, but it’s a welcome distraction. It makes me feel less…awkward.

  He hangs his head, pressing the top of it against his cup. I watch, curiously, as he taps his index finger against the glass. He takes four whole sips before he makes eye contact with me.