Page 35 of Fractured

He releases his hold on my neck and I’m able to face him again. His thumb runs along my bottom lip and I chase it with my tongue. Vander lets out a tsk, and says, “You can take them all, can’t you, Remi? You were always meant to rule with several men by your side. I just think that throne is wrapped in darkness and blood.” His eyes feast on me, traveling from my face to my nipples straining against the silk. “Too bad I was never meant to be one of them,” he says, ripping from my hold and taking several steps away from the bed.

Why does he always have to do this? Give me a small taste of him and then take it away like a rude asshole. I sit up and just watch him. It’s clear he wants me. At least his cock does. But I think he does too and just can’t rationalize it in his mind yet. That’s fine. He’ll be mine eventually.

In a fit of violence, his arm lashes out and swipes my lamp from my bedside table. It crashes to the ground, but I don’t notice the damage since he’s already grabbing the side of the table and flipping it across the room. The drawer flings open allowing the contents to scatter. Dildoes, vibrators, and butt plugs make their escape in a colorful rainbow.

His hand is around my neck again in an instant. The lust in his gaze from before is now gone, replaced with pure undiluted rage. “Why do you care so little about yourself? You aren’t impervious to the risks and danger of the world. There’s a reason why your father hired me to protect you. Do you not understand that? Your life has been under threat more times than I can count. And here you are hiding the fact you have a stalker? You don’t know what he wants from you!” Spit sprays my face with every few words.

“Vander,” I try to interject, but he isn’t having it. His hand cuts off my breath, not to mention my words. Literally.

“From now on, you won’t risk your life. If you need to release your darkness, you have to find a safe way to do it. No more putting yourself in the position of possibly being caught. Do you understand me?” His hold doesn’t release, so my only option is to nod in agreement. In a quick movement, his eyes dart down to my lips and then away before he releases me.

I take in deep breaths and rub my neck. Vander has his back to me, his shoulders rising rapidly as if he’s trying to regain his composure but is still breathing too quickly. His hand runs over the back of his head. Studying him, a question comes to mind. “Why aren’t you freaking out about me killing someone?” I ask him.

He turns around to face me, an incredulous expression raising his brows. “Do you think your inner darkness is a new development? Just because you’ve been stuffing it deep inside, doesn’t mean it hasn’t come up to peek from behind your eyes,” he responds.

“So you saw this darkness inside me and never thought to warn me about it?” I accuse him.

“If I had, it wouldn’t have gone over well. You had to accept it for yourself. Now I’m here to make sure you don’t get caught while being true to yourself,” he tells me as his eyes travel over me again. “Let me help you, Raven. Stop hiding things from me. I just want to protect you.”

I take a moment to think about it. “Only if you leave my stalker to me,” I tell him, preparing myself for him to go off about my safety again.

He lets out a deep breath, probably trying to calm himself from me being difficult. It’s been one of his go-to coping mechanisms over the past five years, during the time where we would barely share a passing hello. “We’ll see.” It’s the only response I’ll get from him right now, further proven as he walks out of my room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

It suddenly occurs to me now that he isn’t in the room anymore. That bastard used my body against me to answer his questions. Turning me on like he knew every trick in the book to get me to respond. I scowl with the thought. There’s no way I’ll spend more time with him this morning in close quarters.

Getting to my feet, I stretch my arms over my head. My shoulders pinching together reignite the irritation on my back. Striding for my bathroom, I pull my silk cami over my head. I need to look in the mirror. I would have looked yesterday, but it was a whirlwind of a day, not to mention last night I was so caught up with having just sent an evil soul to hell. That and putting on a show for Ravenmaster.

I pick up a hand-held mirror the moment I reach the vanity. Turning my rear to the large framed in glass, I hold up the mirror in my hand so I can get a good view of the center of my back. The second I glimpse myself in the reflection, I drop the mirror. The glass shatters and sharp shards shoot in all directions. A few hit my bare feet, leaving small cuts and welling blood. I curse my decision not to slip my feet into some slippers before coming in here.

In a disbelieving panic, I search through the drawers in my vanity looking for another mirror. Each one I fling open is done with such force that the contents slide around, which is further disheveled when I haphazardly move things around in my search.

Not finding another mirror, I turn around and crane my neck to try and see my back again without it. I catch glimpses of what’s causing the irritation, but no details. Try as I might to avoid stepping on any glass as I exit the bathroom, it still happens. “Son of a fucking bitch!” I shout before screaming out my frustrations.

I snatch up a hand towel and awkwardly tie it around my foot, then hobble the best I can to my closet. The three-way mirror isn’t much help either. Finally turning to my last resort, I use my phone to take a picture of my reflection in the mirror. Zooming in on the image, I can see the details I missed while looking over my shoulder.

In the center of my back is a raven in flight. A replica of the watch I took from Scott is dangling from its beak. My stalker may have stolen the actual watch, but he didn’t take it from me entirely. Knowing that sends a sense of calm throughout my body, my muscles relaxing as a tension I didn’t realize I was holding dissipates.

My finger slowly runs across the screen over the watch. The fucker could have told me. Although, I suppose it would have ruined his surprise. Not quite as large as the first raven, is a second one. This one was clearly added last night, rimmed in red irritation. No wonder my back has been feeling sensitive since I woke up yesterday.

I’m torn between wanting to rage at my stalker for permanently marking me, and being in love with the ink. He had no right to violate my body in such a way. It’s a temple that I worship, never before have I modified the perfection that I already am. No tattoos, no piercings other than my earlobes, no unnatural hair dye. I’m one hundred percent all- natural beauty.

Who would have thought I’d change my mind when the decision was taken out of my hands. It’s an exceptional solution to the no souvenirs rule. Doesn’t mean I won’t act pissed as hell. Not to mention the fact that he had to drug me to do it. How has he been able to get in here night after night and bypass security?

The artistic eye of my stalker is phenomenal. The details he was able to add… and the way the two birds appear to be a part of the same picture, not added separately. The evil glint in the bird’s eyes can be mistaken as a sparkle, the coloring of the feathers make them appear lifelike. He’s turned my nickname into a brand, both literal and metaphorically. He’s put his mark on my skin, while giving my dark persona a living identity.

Ravenmaster: You like it?

Figures he’d be watching me through the phone camera. I quickly affix a scowl on my face and type a response.

Raven: This better be some kind of henna or one of those children’s temporary tattoos.

Ravenmaster: You know it isn’t. Stop trying to act mad when we both know you aren’t.

Raven: You don’t know that! I’m absolutely mad.

Ravenmaster: You wish you were… but you secretly love it.

Raven: How could I love you taking such liberties with MY body. You drugged me and left a permanent mark.

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