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“You’re being cold to hurt me. If you’re cruel enough, I might cry and want to leave. Then, you’ll feel bad. I think that last part is what you really want, but I won’t help you hurt yourself.”
Resting on my elbow, I glare at her and spit out, “Because you love me.”
“Yes.”
“Why is that again?”
“I’m shallow.”
Her sincerity cracks through my edgy armor. Sighing, I nod. “I am quite the specimen.”
“I suspect you’re being sarcastic, but it’s difficult to sell that lie when you’re buck naked in front of me.”
“You like what you see, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says and gives my dick an approving glance before studying my face. “And you were sweet to me when I was all alone. You can’t know how rare it is to find a sexy man with a big heart. That’s why I’m going to keep you, even if you run away and I have to keep chasing.”
“Well, don’t chase too much,” I mutter, feeling awkward under all her praise. “You need to make me chase you a little, too.”
“What if you don’t?”
“I’ll always come back,” I say as all my bravado deflates, leaving me lovesick over a woman I feel like might be mine to keep.
Can I really trust this feeling?Life’s shit on me too many times to count. I promised myself I’d never give anyone an opening to hurt me again. Now, here I am gaga over a pretty lady who thinks I’m a keeper.
“With you, I can’t help myself,” I mutter out loud.
“Neither can I. We should stop fighting it.”
Giving in to Xenia’s charms, I wrap her in my arms and kiss her soft throat. She’s going to be littered with hickeys by tomorrow. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll care.
Then, as if proving how I can’t have anything nice in life, I hear the humming. That infernal singsong sound fills the air. The harmonizing tells me there’s more than one asshole outside the tent.
Xenia goes still under me. Her gaze asks the question she doesn’t dare say out loud. I look into her eyes and wish I was someone else. If I was that other guy, we’d be alone right now. Hell, we’d be somewhere better. I’d know the right things to say. I wouldn’t be so fucking grumpy with a woman I desperately want to keep. Everything would be better.
But I’m not that other guy. I’m me, and I come with fucked-up baggage. A few of them are currently humming outside the tent.
“Get dressed,” I tell Xenia. “Don’t say anything to them. Don’t even look at them.”
“Are they with your parents’ cult?” she whispers, gripping me so tightly I can’t move without hurting her.
“I’m going to beat the shit out of them. That might go south, so be ready to run.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Not to me. Not anymore.”
I tug free of her grip and storm out of the tent. The two humming assholes lift their hands to the air when they see me. I’ve known these two women all my life. They were there when I was shit out into the puddle.
The weirdoes—with their numbers for names—view me as their little prophet and swear I’ll lead them to a magical land of fairies and talking trees. As a teenager, I told them I had a vision that they’d end up alone and in pain. They thanked me for my wisdom and did the same humming they’re doing now.
I’ve barely spoken to them in over a decade. The last time we really engaged didn’t go well for them. I’d punched my father in the face, covered my hand with the blood gushing from his nose, and wiped it on my mother’s head.
“You’re all cursed now,” I spat out.
They ran into the woods, screaming about the world coming to an end. After that, they feared me. Not because I hit one of them, but they thought I had the power to curse them.
One of them—Eight—rotting from an infected wound, tracked me down years later. She asked why I had cursed her when she’d been nothing but kind to me. I just shrugged and rode away. She was dead a week later. The rest of the cult stayed out of my way even more after my curse came true.
