Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
My heartbeats pick up at this shift.
Because I know what she sees.
Because it’s what I intended, isn’t it?
The scars are faded, but there all the same. Dozens of them. And from them rise the inked black wings of a phoenix. My rebirth. I could have hidden the scars. Covered over them. But this? This is me owning them.
Down my right arm is a large skull, the broken crown on its head. A Roman letter decorates each prong. I V I. Each letter is split in two by my sword which is coming out of the blind eye of the skull. My family’s crest is swallowed up inside the skull’s open mouth.
Every dot of ink carries meaning. A taking back of what was taken from me.
Severin asked me once why I’d want that on my body, in my skin. Did I not feel the constant weight of it?
I still think about that question so many years later. More than a decade later.
Amal doesn’t know what she’s looking at. All she sees are ink and scars. She won’t see the details, not yet.
I watch her mouth open, her eyebrows lift as her gaze moves over my torso, my shoulders, lingering over each of the tattoos before returning to my face, a line forming between her eyebrows.
I’m suddenly not sure why I didn’t grab a T-shirt to cover myself, but there it is. I never let anyone see. Never.
“Jet… What is all that?”
I shake my head unsure why I let her see. “Just a little ink,” I lie. “I need to shower,” I say, but what I mean is I need to get out of here.
Without a word, I cross to the bathroom, feeling her eyes on me, hearing her gasp because the scars are worse there and inky flames of fire lick up my back, devouring each one.
Just a little ink.
Just a big fat lie.
My heart thuds against my ribs and my brain is screaming what the fuck. What the fuck was I thinking letting her see?
Why did I want her to see?
I close the bathroom door, strip off my sweats and underwear and step into the walk-in shower. Switching on the water, I close my eyes and let it wash over me.
What the fuck am I doing?
I shampoo my hair and scrub my body mechanically, switching off the water and grabbing a towel. I dry off, then wrap it low around my hips and make my way to the vanity. A five o’clock shadow dusts my jaw. I get the electric razor to trim it.
Amal knocks on the door then opens it a little to peer inside before she walks in. She perches on the edge of the tub and I’m not sure I’m glad or disappointed she put my T-shirt on.
“You took my panties,” she says outright.
“Memento,” I don’t bother to lie.
Our eyes met in the mirror. I raise my chin to shave my throat.
Her gaze moves over my shoulders. No other comment on the panties.
“The tattoos. How long have you had them?”
I shrug, going for casual. “Got them over the last couple of years.” Because these last four years have been the first where I’ve felt like I could. Like what happened didn’t own me. That it could be the opposite. That I could be stronger for it, if I so chose.
“What does it all mean?”
“Like I said, just ink.”
“I don’t believe that.” She stands, walks over to me and when I feel the tips of her fingers trace a scar on my back, my body goes rigid. “What happened to you, Jet?”
I splash aftershave on my face before turning to face her, unsure what I’m going to say. Something off the cuff, casual. Like it really is nothing. But I find I can’t speak at all.
“Don’t tell me nothing because you wanted me to see. You’d have put on a shirt if you didn’t want that. So tell me. What happened to you?”
She’s right. And blunt. Calling me out. What did I expect?
I walk out of the bathroom and she follows me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while I grab briefs out of the dresser drawer.
“You’ll tell me. You want to.”
“You sure think you know a lot. I need to get dressed.”
“I don’t mind. Go ahead,” she says with a grin.
I raise my eyebrows, signal for her to turn around with my fingers.
“You’re not shy, are you? I mean, you’ve seen me naked. You stole my dirty panties.” She leans back on her forearms and makes a point of crossing her legs ever so slowly, flashing her naked pussy before getting comfortable.
“You are a dirty little virgin, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you wish you could find out how dirty?”
“Touché.” I grin. I like this back and forth with her.
“Tit for tat, Jet. Go ahead.”
“Tit for tat, huh? You want to see?” I ask, stepping toward her, my cock starting to stiffen. “Well, have your fill, dirty Little Virgin.” I drop my towel. She blinks fast maybe surprised I did it. I grin because I see the blush creeping up her cheeks.