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I made to move past him toward my half of the closet, but came up short when he grabbed ahold of my hand, stopping me alongside him. He laced his fingers through mine and very gently squeezed.
What he said next stopped my heart for a second.
"I'm fucking terrified for you right now. That heart of gold you’ve got is going to be the death of you. The Council is breathing down our necks right now and I don't think you even understand just how bad things can get for you if you aren't careful. And we're a unit, if things are bad for you they are going to be bad for all of us and, baby, we've got too much shit going for us right now to allow them to take anything from us. Think of Baxter and Isobel. Think about Rain. You need to be careful, not just for us, but for them and, mostly, yourself. I know you believe this person is who he said he is, but, I'm telling you, Romero is long since dead."
His hand came to my face and he swept the hair there away and tucked it back behind my ear. Some of it got stuck and tangled with my earrings. Very gently and with ease he untangled them. He cupped the side of my neck and his thumb swept across my cheek, not over my scar but under it. He never touched my scar on purpose anymore like some of the guys did, he always acted like he didn't even notice it, like it wasn't even there. He knew I didn’t like it.
His dark eyes burned into mine, gentle and loving. "No, I don't know where his body is and I don't give a shit. Those nasty bitches probably dumped his body in a shallow grave in the woods somewhere they knew he'd never be found. His family didn't bother looking for him because the Council had practically given him to Dash's family. But just because there isn't a body doesn't mean he isn't dead. Whoever it was in your dream was not him. It was probably a member of the Council or one of their followers fucking with your head. We can't put anything past them and you can't do it again until you've got a lock on it. I need you to understand just how dangerous it is."
I covered his hand with my own as I leaned my cheek into his touch. I felt immense relief at hearing his words, because it meant he didn't not trust me and his words from earlier had been about his concern for not just me but likely Dash as well.
"Let me prove it to you. Please, I can show you. I made sure of it." At least I hoped I could prove I was right and he was wrong. I wasn't sure if it would be worse if he was right and I'd been fooled or not. Would it be better if Romero had really been dead all this time or alive and hidden away underground somewhere where he'd been chained up for god only knew how many years?
I wasn't about to touch that one, but I knew I needed to get to the bottom of it and figure out the truth. Not just for Romero, but for Dash as well.
I knew this part would greatly displease him like everything else about this, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
Stepping into him, I rested my hand lightly over his hard stomach and stood up on my toes. I kissed him on the lips, just a brushing of our lips really, there one second and gone the next. Or at least that was what I’d intended. Quinton had other ideas. His hand slid around to the back of my neck and up, his fingers tangling in my hair. He tilted my head back and his lips locked onto mine. I opened my mouth to protest but his tongue snuck inside, taking advantage of my shock.
Quinton kissed me as if his life depended on it. His free hand wound around me, going to the small of my back, pressing in. The front of my body pressed up tight against his and the heat that came off of him made me shiver in delight. My fingers sank into his short dark hair while my other hand curved around one of his round ass cheeks through his jeans. My fingers dug in on both, clenching in his hair and digging into his ass. He grunted, and the kiss went from hungry to urgent, and the hand on the small of my back went from holding me in place to branding me through the thin material of my tank top with the heat it gave off.
I broke the kiss, panting and clinging to him. He groaned and his face went into my neck. His lips skimmed up my neck, trailing kisses along my skin and up under my jaw.
This was so not happening in my closet right now, I didn't care how he felt about it. I knew he was likely trying to distract me because he didn't want to upset me any more when it turned out he had been right about everything the whole time.
"I know what you're doing and it's not going to work."
He groaned, this time the noise was different, and came out sounding as if he was in pain. Good for him. I pulled away and, I'm not even going to lie, it was almost painful to unlatch my fingers from his hair and smooth out my palm across his ass. I very much wanted to make out with him in my closet and feel him up, but we had more important things to do. Maybe afterwards if he didn't want to kill me or someone else. No promises though.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the closet until we stood in front of a rack of clothing that belonged to me. Or, at least, I thought most of it belonged to me. Half the shit I'd never seen before and would in all likelihood never actually wear. I'd given up on fighting with Damien about my clothes and let him do his thing, just so long as he kept to things I would actually wear if I'd picked out my own clothing. Only, you know, far more expensive. That boy had a problem, he really, truly did.
I let go of Quinton's hand and stepped forward. I reached up and grabbed a handful of hangers off the rack. The clothes hanging from them made them heavy, and I grunted as I carried them over to the island in the middle of the closet. Carefully, I laid the clothes out on the counter and went back to the rack.
"What the hell are you doing?" Quinton asked curiously, as he watched me with a small frown on his face.
I grunted under the weight of another load of clothes as I carted them over to the counter. I threw them down on top of the other pile and went back to the rack. There were too many clothes for me to just push aside so I could get at what I needed, which hung on the wall behind the clothes.
"Where the fuck did that thing come from?" Quinton asked in horror, as he gaped at what the open gap in clothing revealed. He pointed an angry, accusing finger covered in thin, white scars at me. "This shit with you keeping secrets from me has got to stop, god damnit. How did you even get this thing in here without my knowledge?"
I smirked at him over my shoulder as I dropped off the last pile of clothes. The pile was so big now it was almost as tall as me. I probably should have started a new pile when it'd been half this size, but there wasn't much counter space available. The rest had been taken up with bottles of perfume and other girly shit that the guys liked to buy for me. I must note that none of it belonged to Dash. The guys had turned me into a closet hog and not because I wanted to be one. Dash never seemed to mind, in fact, I think he kind of enjoyed it. More stuff of mine for him to take care of. He was one of the very sweetest boyfriends a girl could have, especially in this motley crew of damaged orphans.
I stood in front of the gold framed mirror that had been revealed. It was a huge rectangle that had been mounted to the wall. The frame had symbols carved into it that went all the way around from corner to corner. Rain told me when he gave me the mirror that they'd been carved in by his ancestors and were there to keep the person in possession of the mirror safe from what they called through it.
"It was a gift," I told Quinton over my shoulder. "From my dad. He got it out of my grandfather’s, his father's, house. Apparently I was born there, and he and my mother had lived there with my grandfather. Honestly, Rain reminds me a lot of you sometimes with his constant need to give me shit that once belonged to some long since dead family member. The whole thing is ridiculous really."
Quinton gaped, his mouth hanging open and everything, as he glanced back and forth from me to the mirror. "There's..." He sputtered. "There's fucking blood on that thing." His voice rose higher at the end of that sentence, sounding almost hysterical.
Oh lord, Quinton was not happy with me right now.
I shrugged casually, like I didn't have his same reaction when Rain had first dragged the stupid mirror in here.
"Yeah. It's blood. But don't worry, it's not mine." Like that made everything all better. I waved my hand at the mirror. "You know, dead ancestors and all that. Probably even a little bit of Rain’s, I didn't exactly ask him if he'd mixed his in there with all the rest. The conversation had been awkward enough."
"Jesus Christ," Quinton muttered under his breath. "That fucking asshole. I’m going to have to have a serious conversation with him about this and we are going to have to get this thing the fuck out of my house."
I shook my head. He could talk to Rain until he was blue in the face, but it would do him no good. I was keeping the mirror, I liked it. I also even liked that it had belonged to my family, a family that I didn't remember, and I liked even more that it had been a gift from my father. Not even the dried blood stuck to the mirror bothered me.
Before the night was over, I planned on adding some of mine to it.
