"Spit it out, beautiful. Bile only burns worse on the way back down. You gotta get it out or it'll fester in your gut." His fingers moved to wind around my throat and I moaned softly.
The look in his eyes said he knew as well as I did how fucked up it was for me to like him doing that so much, but it was weirdly cathartic. Like allowing him to re-enact my darkest memory in that small way gave me power over it. Trusting him to put his hands on me like that and to reap rewards from it instead of terror and pain helped me process it or some shit. Or maybe I was just broken beyond repair. Either way, I was pretty sure I needed his brutality to help me find my own.
"I ran, grabbed a lamp and hurled it at him then made a run for his bedroom. He had a balcony there and I was pretty sure I could shimmy down the drain and jump from it to the wall which ringed his apartment block then all I'd have to do was run and run until I was lost all over again and he'd never be able to find me. But when I threw his door open, I found the bed he'd fucked me in so many times wasn't empty. There was a girl there, naked and clearly off her fucking face on something as she stared up at the ceiling with full blown pupils and drool running down her cheek. And dumb bitch that I am, that fucking hurt. He'd made it clear to all of his men that I belonged to him, that I was his and no other man could lay a finger on me and the fucking hypocrisy of seeing that freshly fucked bitch in my place hurt just enough to make me pause. The next thing I knew, Shawn was throwing me against the wall. I tried to fight back, but he's a lot bigger than me and when he punched me, I swear I saw stars. Then his hands were around my throat and he was squeezing and squeezing and I could see my death looking right back at me in his icy blue eyes. And all I could think about was this place and the four of you and the life I wished I'd lived. Because the one I'd had instead was so fucking empty and it was ending way too soon."
Maverick was still beneath me, his fingers tightening around my throat, though not in a way to cut off my breath, more like he wanted to hold on tight and never let me go.
"I'm gonna need you to kiss me, beautiful. Otherwise I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to remain where I am and keep my promise to let you end that piece of shit." He shifted his grip to the back of my neck and I leaned forward, my hands sliding over the hard press of his tense muscles before my mouth found his and I fell into a kiss that swallowed me whole.
Maverick kept his grip tight on the back of my neck, caging me against him as his tongue moved against mine and his heart thumped wildly beneath my palm. When he kissed me like that, the ache in my heart seemed to fall away, like I was pushing it behind a curtain out of sight and almost forgetting it was even there at all. It was me and him surfing with the sun on our backs, scrawling graffiti on freshly painted walls, stealing from assholes who didn't know how fucking good they had it and laughing until our sides hurt because just being together made all the bad stuff fade away.
When I finally pulled back, I found him looking at me like I was the answer to some question he'd been asking for the longest time. But as a frown furrowed his brow, I knew exactly what he was thinking - it didn't change the past.
"Tell me, Rick," I whispered. "I told you, so it's your turn. What happened to you when you were sent down?"
His hands fell to my thighs and he blew out a breath, seeming as though he was going to refuse as his thumb tracked over the skull inked onto my thigh and his gaze fixed on it too.
"Juvie sucked," he said. "But not that much. Mostly I was bored there. It wasn't hard for me to take control of the place, to prove to the other kids that I was the one to fear, the one to keep away from. Hell, I thought I was the big fucking man in there, miserable about being incarcerated but still the ruler of that shitty little empire. When I turned eighteen, they packed me up and shipped me out. Prison was...hell. Not like the bullshit version of it you see on TV where you think about how fucking shitty it might be to be locked up all day and the occasional asshole gets shanked in the corridors. No, for me, walking through those doors and hearing them lock behind me was akin to being tied to a stake and being burned alive from the inside out."
"What happened?" I breathed, my fingers trailing over the ink on his chest, tracing the tally marks he had there and feeling the ridges of scarred flesh that went with them. It was like we couldn't stop touching each other, this gentle movement of our fingers across each other's skin was somehow soothing the hurts inside us and all the time we kept it up, the darkness might just stay away.
"In all the time I'd been in Juvie, I'd denied every request for visits from Luther and from the boys too. The four of them had put me in there, turned their backs on me and left me there to rot, all because I loved you enough to chase you when you needed me. It haunted me knowing you were lost out there somewhere, all alone and fuck knew where. JJ kept writing to me long after the others stopped. Updating me on pointless shit in their lives and in the gang, telling me what he knew about you - which was fuck all. I only read them at all because I was desperate to hear about you, for them to find you and keep you safe. But of course, that information never came and my fury at them only grew. I was locked up, unable to come and find you no matter how much I ached for you, but their chains were made of nothing but fear and cowardice. They could have gone after you. They should have." Maverick's fist clenched against my thigh and I took his hand in mine, lifting it to my lips and pressing a kiss against his inked skin. He watched me for several long seconds before continuing. "Anyway, I guess by the time I was transferred to prison, Luther was losing his patience with me and thought he'd try his hand at forcing the apology he was so desperate for from my lips. He had guards in his pockets. Four of them. And every night from the very first I spent in that place, they came for me, took me from my cell and spent hours beating and torturing me."
Anger burned through me hot and fast as I took that in and my heart began to race at the thought of him suffering like that. Night after night, locked up in that place and enduring all of it - because of me.
"I'm sorry, Rick," I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes as I realised this was all my fault. Everything he'd endured had been down to me because the man he'd been sent down for killing had died by my hands, not his. "I didn't know. But you shouldn't have taken the fall for me. Axel was a rapist piece of shit and I was the one who killed him. I replayed that night so many times in my head and sometimes I think that I should never have called the four of you for help. The asshole had attacked me. It was self-defence. I should have called the cops and told them everything and if Luther had wanted to come after me anyway then at least it wouldn't have been the four of you and-"
"Stop that," Maverick growled. "You know full well that the cops around here are all bought and paid for. You killed a Harlequin, and it doesn't matter if he was a filthy fucking animal who deserved worse than what he got because Luther would have made you pay the price for his life in blood. That's how the Harlequins work. Besides, I didn't go to prison over Axel. I went to prison because Luther likes to play god with the people he thinks he owns. He thought he could force me to beg for my way out. He thought that one day it would get so fucking bad in there that I'd call him up and promise to be a good boy and do whatever the fuck he wanted for the rest of my life just so long as he rescued me from that hell. But I can promise you, that no matter how bad it got, no matter how many beatings I took or how many times I wished I was dead instead of locked up in there enduring all the worst things a man can endure, I never once considered making that call to him."
"Tell me about the men who hurt you, Rick," I demanded, ignoring the tears which had slipped down my cheeks and pressing his palm to my face as I gave him a serious look. "Tell me about them and I'll help you hunt them down and we can make them pay for-"
"Oh don't worry about that, beautiful," he said, a dark look entering his eyes which reminded me all too clearly that this man had made good friends with death in the time he'd spent away from me. "The four guards who enjoyed torturing me oh so much had a few little routines which
they shared with me. Once a year - always on the same weekend, the second one in August, I got four days of freedom from their torture because they took an annual fishing trip together. They made sure that the moment they were back I paid for the time off and more, but they were also fucking sloppy when it came to telling me the details of their little trips. So as soon as I got out of that fucking place, I made sure to head on out into the woods they'd told me all about the moment that weekend rolled around again."
I bit my bottom lip as he told this story, the pain and horror of the memories he'd been reliving from his time in prison peeling back as this dark demon rose in him and I could practically taste the bloodlust on my own tongue as he told me about his revenge.
"Did you make it hurt?" I asked breathily, placing my hand over his heart so that I could feel it pounding beneath my palm.
"I made them scream for days," he growled, bringing a dark smile to my lips. "I cut them apart piece by fucking piece and bathed myself in their blood while they begged me for mercy. There was nothing left of them by the time I was done and the official line is that they must have gotten lost out in the wilderness or fallen prey to some kind of animal attack. And I guess that was pretty accurate in the end, because I really was an animal out there."
"Good," I hissed and he gave me a smile that made my toes curl as he ran his thumb across my bottom lip and I dragged it between my teeth before biting down and making him tug it free again. "Is that why you're the way you are now?" I asked slowly, wondering if he'd admit to the coldness that had claimed his heart. "Was the revenge not enough to banish your demons?"
"Are you worrying about that, beautiful?" he deflected, pushing his thumb into my mouth again so that I sucked on it and he watched me with a heated look in his eyes. "Do you think revenge might not be enough to fix your damage?"
I released his thumb from my mouth so that I could reply. "I don't think anything will be enough to fix my damage," I admitted. "But it seems like there's something else causing yours. Something more..."
Maverick looked away from me, out over the rolling waves towards Sunset Cove and I frowned, wondering what could be so bad that he didn't want to voice it after all we'd just shared.
"There is more. But I can't talk about it," he said eventually, his voice rough and shadows dancing across his expression.
"You can tell me anything," I promised him, catching his rough jaw and making him look at me again. There was a war taking place in his dark eyes and it hurt me even though I didn't understand why.
"I don't want you to look at me differently," he said firmly. "Besides, I'm not that person anymore so I think some of the past should stay buried. All I care about now is killing the fucking Harlequins and finishing what I started. Maybe if I really do get revenge on everyone who fucked me over I'll feel some of that relief I'm hunting for so desperately. Or maybe I won't and all of it will have been for nothing."
"All of it?" I asked, my heart tugging painfully at the thought of that and he frowned.
"Maybe not all," he admitted, looking into my eyes. "But seeing as I just lost our little truth game, I think I have to fuck you now, right?"
A laugh escaped me despite the heaviness in my heart and I shook my head. "Maybe later, stud. How about right now we just sit here? We can watch the waves and cuddle like a couple of old people without a care in the fucking world."
"You wanna cuddle with me?" he asked with a snort of amusement.
"Yes, big boy. Even psychos need a cuddle from time to time."
I shifted in his lap so that I was sitting across him instead of straddling him, laying my head against his broad chest and listening to the solid thump of his heartbeat against my ear and he sighed as his arms folded around me.
The two of us really were a pair of damaged creatures. But somehow, when we were together, that fact didn't seem to hurt so much.
A n unstoppable, unbreakable chain of days and nights slipped by. A month, two, three. Every day was the same hell and the only gleam of light keeping me from ripping my blanket to pieces and forging a rope out of it for my neck was her. I’d made a promise to come for her. And I would. I just wasn’t sure how much longer I could survive like this.
I stood in my cell, my face squashed to the wall, Krasinski’s hand pressed to my back and keeping me there while I chewed the inside of my cheek until it bled. He was touching himself, and soon he’d touch me and the only place I could escape to was the corners of my mind where distant memories still clung to me. But they were like moths fluttering around the flame of a candle and whenever I tried to see them clearer, they burned up and vanished before my eyes. Each one was precious and harder to hold onto than the last. It wasn’t that I was forgetting Rogue, it was that with each time I tried to cling onto those pieces of my past, they seemed more fragmented than before. I couldn’t picture myself in them anymore because I was no longer the boy she’d depended on. I’d failed her. And now I was just some convict’s bitch with no future and no way to reach her.
So after a while, I sought out a different kind of strength to keep me going. Vengeance. When Krasinski held me down and breathed heavily in my ear, I thought of violence. I imagined firing a bullet into Luther’s head, the man who’d abandoned me to this fate, who let Officer White and his Harlequin lackies punish me day after day. And through the storm of hate washing through my mind, I finally found an answer to my problem. It wasn’t immediate. But it gave me hope where there had been none before.
The reason Luther controlled me was because he was bigger and badder than me. It was the very same reason that Krasinski controlled me too. So there really was only one way I could destroy both of them. I had to become the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the room. And not just this room, every fucking room.
So I’d train my body daily, work tirelessly, make this my one and only cause in life. Then, when I was strong enough to fight back, I’d let every demon in my head run riot on my enemies. And after I’d cast them from this world, I’d hunt down the only girl who’d stood by me and pray I wasn’t too broken to love her.
The morning light spilled through the room, waking me, bringing relief with it. I despised the night. The dark reminded me of them. Officer White, Hughes, Reed and Boyd. But worse than them. Far worse. Krasinski. Once I’d started sharing a cell with him, I prayed for White and the others to come. At midnight they’d steal me from my bed and I relished every punch and kick and jeer. I welcomed the pain because when it stopped, it meant I’d have to return to him. And there was no greater nightmare to me than that.
The memories receded faster than usual as the scent of coconut ran under my nose and I found the beautiful creature in my arms who I’d wanted to capture my entire life. Finally, somehow, I had her. And now I was afraid of life stealing her from me just as fast, and this moment becoming another memory I could barely hold onto, taunting me with its brevity.
I drew Rogue tighter against me, the night gone, the daylight burning brighter than it had since I was a child. She’d fallen asleep in my lap last night and I’d carried her inside, stripping down to my boxers and just laying with her in my bed until sleep had finally claimed me too.
When I thought back on that broken boy I’d been in prison, it made me shudder with shame. I may have found my way back to her eventually, but I definitely wasn’t the man I’d hoped I’d be when I got here. Now, we were a temporary fire burning in an icy wasteland, the snow already beginning to fall.
I still hadn’t fulfilled my wishes of giving death to all those who deserved it. While Luther and his son drew breath, I was cursed to walk this earth, tormented by the pain of my past and the knowledge that I hadn’t survived prison with anything left of the boy Rogue had once cared for. I was a cruel stranger inhabiting this body, consuming it, absorbing the desires of that boy and fulfilling them as best I could now, knowing that the clock was already running down on our time together. I wanted to be him more than anything in that moment. But I wasn’t and I couldn’t ever be
again.
There were only a few things certain in life and the hardest one I’d had to swallow was that there was no going back. There was only now. No future, no past, just this moment. And this, and this. So I’d drown myself in each of them and try to stretch each second into two, each minute into five. I’d have bartered with the Devil himself, offered him my blackened soul on a silver platter tomorrow, if only he’d give me more time right here with her.
I dragged my mouth along her neck, raking my teeth over her flesh and fighting the urge to take a deep and bloody bite out of her. How could she sleep so soundly wrapped in the arms of a monster? I doubted she really had any idea of who I was these days. My face was a familiar lie to her. But it was just a mask, beneath it was nothing but sin and wicked deeds, wrapped around the heart of a boy which ached for her as it always had. She’d see soon enough that there was nothing of him left but memories. And she was the owner of the ones which counted.
“I’m going to keep you,” I murmured in her ear. “I’m going to lock you up and destroy the key. You’re mine, lost girl. I found you. And I’m going to possess you until my final breath, so pray it comes before I break you.” My promises were false and petty. I couldn’t keep her any more than I could keep the wind contained in a jar. But speaking them aloud felt defiant, like telling the universe it was so.
Dead Man's Isle (Harlequin Crew #2) Page 12
