Page 68 of Head Over Skates

But wait. The man has a tattoo above his right hip. A constellation of stars. Before I can get a good look at it, he’s bending over, mussing up his hair. When he flips back up, he grins at me and says, “How do I look?”

Once I pick my jaw off the floor, I reply, “Like you’ve been properly bedded.”

“Good. But something’s off.”

“There is? It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

Cody pounds on the door again. “Emily?”

“Aha! I know what’s missing.” Owen reaches over to me, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me roughly, roaming his hands all over my shirt, grabbing fistfuls of fabric to wrinkle it beyond recognition. Then his hands tangle in my hair, swirling it around-–knotting it up. When he pulls his mouth off me, he drags his teeth along my lips, making them feel swollen and raw. He stands back to admire his handiwork.

“That’s better. Now you look like you’ve been properly bedded, too.”

I’m in such a state, I don’t protest when he saunters over and answers my door, casually leaning an elbow on the frame.

“Can I help you?”

I can see Cody peek inside under Owen’s armpit, making sure he has the right apartment. He sees me, then looks back at Owen, taking in his tall figure, the bare chest, the open fly, the bedroom hair. Red splotches appear on Cody’s face just as a sour expression overtakes his features.

“What’s going on here, Emily? Who’s this guy?”

Before I can respond, Owen growls possessively, “I’m her soulmate. And you are interrupting.”

“Just go away, Cody,” I plead. I don’t want this to get ugly.

“Cody?” Owen stands up straight. “You’re Cody? The one Emily told me about?”

This seems to give Cody some confidence, as if me talking about him gives him a chance with me. He puffs up his chest. Or at least tries to. There’s not much there.

“Yes,” he says, lifting his chin. “What of it?”

Owen steps out into the hallway and looms over Cody, crowding his space. “You’re the one who manhandled my girlfriend and left your grabby mark on her arm.”

Cody stumbles backward, but Owen catches him by the arm in the same place Cody grabbed me. Owen’s massive hand wrapsall the way around Cody’s bicep. His fingers tighten by degrees, each squeeze making Cody squirm.

“How does that feel? Do you think Emily enjoyed being bruised up by you?”

Cody only squeaks.

“Do you?”

“No! No I don’t.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Owen twists his fingers to bend Cody’s arm at a weird angle. He doesn’t break it, but I know he’s inflicting just enough pain to scare Cody. The whole business is effortless on Owen’s part. At most, Cody will have a bruise matching mine.

“You keep your filthy hands off my woman.” Owen’s growl is deep and scratchy. “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t knock on her door. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. Yes!” Cody whimpers.

“Say it.”

“I… w-won’t look at her, or t-talk to her… or knock on her door.”

“Good.” Owen releases Cody and slaps him on the shoulder. The impact makes Cody wince. “We have an understanding. Now run along.”

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