by Kitty Cox
He pointed at Dez. "It's her you need to worry about. Contract will be done by tomorrow, and she'll own half of Deviant Games."
"What?" Ice trickled across her body, shock hitting her at his words. "You're making me a legal owner? I thought I was just running the show with you?"
"You are. Silk would be delayed without you. With your help, I know we can not only meet expectations but probably double the profits. I'm losing nothing and gaining a whole lot more. It's your wages, Dez, and I keep hoping it'll be enough of an incentive to keep you from quitting."
"I'm getting sober. I think."
Mark chuckled once. "You'll fail a few times before you get it right, Dez, and we'll stick with you each time. It's a lot easier when you're honest about it, though. Ever need an ear, you've got mine."
"Goes for all of you," Braden said, looking up at Chance. "Including the stud muffin up there. Boss, we got your back, but you know when Silk gets big, one of those girls is going to try to sue you?"
"Yeah."
Dez looked around the room. "And we've got his back. Witnesses, character references, and..." She pointed at her own desk in the corner. "I've got a very locked file with video proof that it was consensual. I may not have been able to take care of myself, but we're not alone anymore."
Tim's head shot up. "I know what we're doing for the trailer! I think we can have two ready by F5."
Chapter 17
They'd been working like slaves for what seemed an eternity, the months passing in a blur. That made it easier for her birthday to slip past without notice. Just two weeks until F5. One week until the Silk community portal went live. That was the day the game went into alpha testing. A month after the convention, they hoped to move it into beta. If everything went according to plan – which it never did – they would release on Black Friday in November.
This was the downward slope. The office was no longer empty. What had started as seven developers now included another twenty staffers. The main team had all been promoted to department heads – and now they had real people to manage. Some of the new employees had even thrown themselves into the idea of Flawed. Most, though, were just there for a check. They wanted to do their job, get paid, and head home.
Dez thought of the core group as the Flawed team. Samantha, the new assistant graphic designer, was one of the most dedicated. It may have been because of the large scar down the side of her face earned from a childhood accident on the playground. While her resume was centered around digital renderings, she'd proven herself to be a more than competent concept artist as well. They'd stopped contracting out the work and gave her a raise to keep everything as close to the team as possible. Sam, as she asked to be called, and Tim made a team that could work miracles. Now, today they were shooting the cover.
It was ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, and Dez sat quietly. Her face was painted, her hair styled, and she wore clothes that made her look almost sexy. The photographer was due soon. She chewed on her lip, wondering for the millionth time if this was really a good idea. She trusted the team and over the last month had grown close with all of them, but was she really ready to face the world? What would it do to things between her and Chance?
Not that there was much between them. Oh, she loved being around him. She couldn't get enough of him, but they only talked. She'd never even kissed him. He called her his girlfriend, but she couldn't even fucking kiss him. She could barely touch him, but at least that was one place they had made progress. Every night, she twined her fingers into his. Resting her hand on his arm was no longer terrifying. The problem was that she just couldn't do more.
A door opened, but she knew it wasn't from upstairs. Chance had been out late. His last date hadn't turned out quite the way he wanted. The good girl he'd picked up had a sadistic side. When she'd raked her nails down his back, he'd tried to ignore it. When she'd bit him, he'd lost his temper. For the first time, Dez saw exactly how brutal Chance could be, and it scared her a little.
The gouges from that woman’s nails had been raw and gory, but her bite had been deep enough to draw blood. When her teeth broke flesh, he pulled away and paused in his lovemaking. "Is that how you want it?" he'd asked, glaring at her, still buried inside her. The fool had made some comment about wanting it hard, and he'd obliged. Dez had watched while Chance fucked the girl, ramming himself deep inside her with none of the passion he normally had for his one night stands. He'd finished quickly, getting himself off with no concern for her, then just walked away.
"Go home," he'd snarled.
"Oh, that's all you got?" the bitch had snapped back.
The look he'd given her could have frozen hell over. "That's all you're getting. Get the fuck out of my apartment." Then he'd thrown her clothes at her.
He'd showered alone and hadn't wanted to talk to Dez about it. His dates had become their dates, but not last night. She wasn't exactly sure why he was so upset, but she knew he was. She knew it bothered him, but he kept the reasons locked close. It was a small divide between them. He wanted her to share everything, but he wasn't willing to do the same.
And now she was waiting to have her picture taken for the cover of a game. She was supposed to be tough, not worried. She'd let Chance sleep in. He didn't need to be a part of this, and knowing that a secret hung between them hurt her in a way she hadn't really expected.
"Hey?" Braden dropped into a chair beside her. "Penny for your thoughts? You freaking out about a picture?"
"Kinda. Isn't freaking out about something my normal state?" She tried to make light of it, but the joke was flat.
Braden sighed. "No. What's really wrong?"
"You wouldn't understand." She smiled to take the sting from her words. "Mainly because I don't."
"Then sounds like you need to talk." He gestured for her to keep going. "So, talk."
"Chance had a shitty date last night."
"Pretty sure all guys have those. So what's the problem?"
She picked at her lip, trying to figure that out. "He wouldn't talk to me about it. I think he's getting tired of trying to make something out of nothing." She shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I mean, this whole thing is just fucked up. He probably wants a girlfriend that isn't a voyeur and will fulfill him."
"You mean fuck." Braden tilted his head. "Gonna go with no on that. I'll admit, you two are pretty screwed up, Dez, but I don't think he's looking for a quick lay from you. You try asking?"
"Didn't get the chance. He just passed out."
Braden nodded, but before he could reply, the door opened again. This time, Jeff and Tim entered, effectively killing their private time. "It'll be fine, and you look great, except..." He pushed his chair right beside her. "Can I fix your hair? There's a strand out of place."
With a weak smile, she nodded. Braden had figured out how to make her fears subside. A few of the others had been trying. She could handle little touches from them, but only if she knew they were coming. It didn't happen often, but Braden made the effort more than anyone else except Chance. Slowly, he leaned closer, moving where she could see him, then gently he teased a lock of hair apart so that it lay across her brow more naturally.
"Perfect," he said gently.
And the upstairs door opened. They all looked. Chance stood there, his eyes on Dez, but he wasn't smiling. "Photo shoot?" he asked, slowly making his way down. He wore another one of those skin tight shirts, the kind she loved.
"Yeah, photographer is heading out back," Tim said. "Mark and the rest of the team are helping to haul equipment. I'm supposed to get the subject."
Dez pulled herself from the chair. "I'm a subject now, huh?"
"Of art," Jeff assured her. "Guy knows not to touch you, and we're all here for back-up. You good with this, Dez?"
She nodded slowly. "Better be, or Tim and Sam just spent a lot of time for nothing, right?"
"I can do something else," Tim assured her.
Chance joined them, holding his coffee cup out for Dez. "Need a pick me up?" He looked at Dez.
"Pretty sure you haven't had a cup yet."
"I'll get lipstick on it."
He smiled. "I honestly don't mind." His eyes begged her to take it as a small token of apology.
She had no idea what he was apologizing for, so she did. Like always, his coffee tasted so much better than anyone else's. She took a big gulp, then another, before passing it back.
"Ok, time to expose my skin to the world." She turned for the door, and the guys moved around her easily.
It wasn't that long ago that being part of a crowd was pure agony. Now? She felt oddly protected. They all respected her space and did everything they could to make her happy. Braden and Chance were the worst, but each of them had a little thing, his personal way of being sweet to her. She focused on that, reminding herself how lucky she was to find people that didn't care if she was fucked up – no, flawed. She was the Queen of the Flawed, and about to become the icon.
Outside, it was warm and bright. She squinted against the glare but knew what they wanted. The middle of the grass, the same place she and Chance had come to think of as theirs. It was where she'd run from him, then where she'd crawled to him. That would be where she'd take the next step in her life, defining herself as imperfect and daring the world to care.
The whole thing started out easy enough. Dez stood there, with the blue sky and green grass behind her. She turned when told, tilted her head, but mainly tried to impersonate a statue. The guys all watched, making soft comments among themselves about how to incorporate the setting into the game or about how to obscure the trademark violations on her skin.
"Ok," the photographer said. "Let's try something. I need a man in the picture."
"That's Braden," Jeff said. "Only one of us flawed that looks good enough for a cover."
"Fuck that," Braden groaned. "What's the plan, Mr. Martinez? Dez doesn't really do touching."
The photographer sighed. "I wanted to incorporate another tattoo and body. Was hoping for a more intimate feel, less static."
"Yeah. Hang on." Braden held up a finger with one hand and gestured the guys closer with the other.
Dez couldn't make out what he was saying, but Chance shook his head. Braden reached up and dropped his arm over his shoulder, then pointed to his hand. Tim chuckled and pressed his palm to his face, hugging against it. They all nodded.
Chance peeled away from the group and headed toward her. He didn't say a word until they were close enough for their conversation to be private. Then he looked down at her gently.
"All of this is your call," he assured her. "Guys think that the tattoo on my arm, seen over yours, will make it work." He licked his lips, looking nervous. "Sugar, they want you to put your cheek in my palm and lean into it."
She looked up into his eyes and saw worry in them. "Do you want that?"
"I figure you don't want to touch me after last night."
"Why?" she whispered.
He pressed his lips together for a moment. "I wasn't kind."
"Neither was she."
"I never want to be a trigger for you. I don't want you to see me like that and remember what happened. I'm sorry. I should've just ignored it."
Dez shook her head. "She bit you."
He chuckled once, sadly. "Among other things. I still should've been more gentle."
"Wait." She reached out and pressed her fingers to his chest, the touch like an exclamation point to her shock. "That's what this is about? You were ashamed? I thought you..."
He smiled. "Can we talk about this later, when the whole team isn't trying to desperately listen in?"
"Yeah." Dez nodded. "You can touch me, Chance."
"Those are words I love to hear, Sugar." He turned back. "Ok. How do you want me?"
"Expose the inside of your arm," Tim called over. "Palm on her cheek. Dez, lean into it. Pretend like you are actually enjoying his touch?"
"Wait," Braden called, then jogged over. "Demonstration before you two get all gropey." He stood in front of Dez and motioned Chance over. Turning him by the shoulders, he positioned the ginger facing him, then grabbed his arm. "Like this. Dez, you're me, and well, Chance is sexy, right?"
"Careful, bro," Chance teased. "You know I'm an addict."
"And my boss."
Chance's head tilted slightly, and Braden lifted an eyebrow. Dez had never exposed Braden's secret. This was the closest he'd ever come. "Hinting at something?" Chance asked.
Braden smiled. "Yes. Now try to refrain your urges. Pretend I'm Dez."
Chance was smiling, but he obeyed. Lifting his hand to Braden's face, the shorter, broader man pressed into it, tilting his head toward Chance slightly. Then he flicked his eyes over to Dez.
"His arm is going to touch the side of your neck," Braden pointed at the contact. "Probably your chest, too. His hand will definitely be across your face, but it's good. It's gentle."
"You need to shave," Chance teased. "Damn, I feel like a piece of meat."
Dez giggled, but Braden couldn't help himself. "Then stop treating yourself like one." He stepped back, out of Chance's hand. "K, Dez, you understand the idea?"
She twisted her lips, making a face. "Nope. I think I want to see that again."
"Voyeur," Braden joked. "He has nice hands, you should enjoy them more." Then he turned and walked back to the waiting group.
"Did he..." Chance looked at him leaving.
Dez giggled. "Yep. Pretty sure he just used you."
"Right. We ready?" He glanced at the photographer, then stepped to Dez. "I love it when you touch me, Sugar. I can't help but enjoy this."
Then he lifted his hand to her face. Dez closed her eyes and felt the skin on her, but it was so different. His touch was tender, not cruel. His hands were soft, the calluses from a keyboard and nothing else. When his thumb slid across her cheek, she lifted her lids and looked into his eyes.
"I could kiss you like this," Chance whispered.
Her lips parted and she met his eyes. "Good!" The photographer yelled. "Just like that. Don't move."
The click of the camera came fast, over and over. She was frozen in time, locked in Chance's hand, and she wasn't scared. His face was tender like she always wanted it to be, and he was completely focused on her. She felt like she'd just entered a dream, one where she could dare to trust someone, where she could be normal.
"No, no, no," Mr. Martinez groaned. "Mr. Hunter, the shirt is all wrong. Are you willing to take it off?"
"Fuck," Chance breathed. "I hate that fucking bitch." He gently slid his hand from Dez, then turned back. "Probably not a good idea. Maybe Braden should be in the shot?"
"Just fucking take it off," Mark yelled. "You've never been shy before."
"Never been on the cover of a game before!" Chance snapped back.
"Chance," Dez said softly.
"It'll increase our female audience appeal," Jeff told him.
"I doubt that," Chance grumbled.
"Chance," Dez said again. Finally, he looked at her. She bit her lip, trying to hide the smile. "My flaw. Yours. Tim and Sam can clean it up. Take off your damned shirt."
He shook his head. "I don't want you to see that."
"I've already seen it. I knew you were with another woman. I believe I picked her." She licked her lips. "Take off your shirt, Chance. Expose your flaws with me?"
He took a deep breath, then nodded. "You know this is going to get bad, right? They won't be able to help themselves."
"Trust them."
He nodded again, then tugged at his shirt. Yanking it over his head, he threw the cotton as far from them as he could, then turned back, exposing the love marks on his body to the entire team. He looked to Dez, his eyes begging her to reassure him.
"Whoa," Jeff said softly. "That was a nasty one."
The rest of them mumbled softly. Sam, being the only woman in the crowd, spoke up next. "Definite war wounds. Should we leave the bite, since it's obviously human, and so is the enemy?"
"Well," Tim said while Dez and Chance resumed
their position, "we can enhance the claw marks and make a point of how people do their best to rip us apart? A metaphor for the wounds on the inside of most people?"
Braden was the voice of wisdom. "Get the shots, then ask them. That's a whole lot of vulnerable right there, guys. Thing is, most people would never see it."
"I see it," Dez told Chance, her words for them alone. "And you did it for me."
"I'll do anything for you." He moved closer, his chest almost against her arm.
She reached up without thinking and pressed her palm over his heart. The bass of his pulse vibrated in her hand. He leaned into it, turning his head down. If he bent, he could kiss her. It made her own heart beat faster. Beneath her fingers, his did, too. She almost hoped he would but couldn't say anything – not with the click of the camera – so she couldn't tell him. With everyone looking, with Chance's weakness exposed so bravely, she realized that maybe she would even like it.
"Anything," he promised again. "Give up my addiction, just like you did."
She heard the camera pause, so dared to answer. "I'll fail."
"And I'll probably fuck it up, too." His heart was hitting her hand so hard. "But if you want it, I'll try. I'll be anything you need, Dez. I'm in love with you." His fingers tensed against her cheek.
"Chance..."
"Shh," he said softly. "You'll mess up the picture. Just accept that it's true."
She did. She could feel it in his hands and hers. The way his heart was beating proved that he was terrified of it, just like she was, but that wasn't enough to stop him from saying it. He loved her. Chance Hunter, the beautiful man who was everything she'd ever wanted, even with his flaws, was in love with her.
"That's it!" The photographer was ecstatic. "Yes, that's exactly the look we need. Oh, this is going to be so good."
"Me?" Dez asked.
He barely nodded. "You. Only you. My little demon pixie. My sweet taste of sugar." His eyes dropped to her lips. "Dez, I need to get out of here, ok? I need my fix, and I don't want to ever hurt you. Last night..."
She closed her eyes and let his hand hold her head. "It's ok. I understand. The team has things to finish."
