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His stomach lurched like he was about to puke. Go ahead. I’d hold my hand right here and watch him choke on it.
I moved the blade lower, closer to his groin, then stabbed him again. “This is for Tatum.” I twisted my hand. “For trying to sell your own fucking daughter.” I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “She’s alive, by the way. Alive and happy and married to Caspian fucking Donahue.”
I eased the blade out, wiped it on his jumpsuit, then placed it just below his chin.
His eyes were wild. Frantic. And his skin was growing paler by the second.
“And this is for Lyric.”
I pushed the blade through his skin and watched his blood coat my hand.
I read somewhere that you either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I just killed a monster to save a girl. What the fuck did that make me?
Hours later, after my hands were clean and my mind was quiet, I lay in bed with Lyric, trailing the tip of a Sharpie over her naked body. Her sweet scent curled around me, and her mouth lifted into a gorgeous fucking smile that made my dick hard.
“Where’d you go today?” she asked as I drew another rose on her collarbone.
The news had already spread about Malcolm Huntington dying in a prison fight.
Pity.
I’d darkened my soul with his blood, but I didn’t want her anywhere near those shadows. So I did what I did best. I distracted her.
“Just some shit with Chandler,” I said as I ran my tongue along the delicate column of her throat.
She lifted her hips, just the slightest hint, but I caught it.
“Your pussy is begging for my dick.” I scraped my teeth along her jaw and drew another line with the Sharpie. “Is that what you want, baby?” I bit her lip. “Is that what you’re asking for?”
Another line. Another mark. Another letter. All in a perfect design between her breasts.
She reached around and grabbed my ass, pushing my dick against her cunt.
I grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them above her head. “Not yet.” I smirked. “I’m almost done.”
Lyric arched her back, pressing her perfect fucking tits into me. Her body was a dangerous fucking weapon and she knew how to use it.
I bent my head down and bit her nipple. “Not.” I drew another line down her sternum. “Fucking.” Another line below that. “Yet.” A few more lines just below her belly button and I let go of her wrists.
I held the marker between my teeth, then pulled her out of bed and into the bathroom.
Her mouth dropped when I flicked on the light and faced her in front of the mirror.
Along her collarbone I’d written the same Roman numerals as I always did. The entire top of her chest was covered in roses engulfed in flames because that was our love—beautiful and chaotic—and down the center of her tits to her belly button were the wordsMarry Me.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. I swiped them away with my thumb, then smeared them on my lips the same way I’d done her blood the first night I ever touched her.
“I love you, Lyric Matthews. And not just because you’re fucking perfect or because you do that squeezy thing with your pussy when I’m buried deep inside you. I love you because we’re a goddamn mess. But fuck, it’s beautiful. I love you in the light… and in the dark. I don’t know what kind of shit we’re headed for but I know I want to do it with you. I want to do forever with you.”
She lifted on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against mine.
“Is that a yes?” I asked with a grin.
“Yes.” She looked up at me with bright blue eyes and I was swallowed up in all the hope they held.
I took the Sharpie and drew a line around her finger. “Tomorrow, we get you a real one.”
Tatum’s “death” left me the only Huntington heir. Not only did I inherit Dad’s seat in the Brotherhood, but I also got a shit ton of money he thought he’d kept hidden. All the illegal shit that didn’t go straight to my mom—who was free to live her own life now that my dad wasn’t around to make demands—was mine. Lyric could have five fucking rings if she wanted to. Fuck, I’d buy her ten—one for each finger.
