Page 24 of Pretty Monsters

I grunt, because the blood flow to my brain is being diverted, and I'm finding it hard to come up with the right response.

My reaction to her pisses me off. She's practically a child, even if she doesn't look like one. Worse, she's my best friend's little sister. Off limits. Not that I do relationships. Hard to create something with another person when you technically don't exist.

I have one thing to offer a woman, and they've never asked me for more. I've hooked up with some of the ladies who work for Damien, had anonymous sex in bars when I've been allowed off the property, but it was never more than scratching an itch. Raven can't be that for me, and I have nothing else to offer.

My phone sits next to my bag, and I see several text messages waiting for me. Worrying that something happened to Lucien I quickly open my phone, only to be confused when they are all from myself.

I shake my head. She must have been texting me the entire time we were shopping. I did tell her to make it look like she was occupied with the phone. Curiosity has me opening the messages.

If I look like a little girl, why can't you keep your eyes off of me?

Why did you cling to me the other night in bed?

Why, indeed. I can't explain my actions. Lying to myself isn't going to change what's happening, and it won't erase the fact she's noticed. Part of me is proud she's calling me on my shit. That part doesn't override my need to shut this shit down immediately.

I know she's been checking me out. There's a hopeful glint in her eye when she looks at me, but right now she sees me as her protector. I guess I am, though, and I will make sure she stays safe, even from me.

Someone as pure and innocent as Raven doesn't need to be tarnished by someone like me. Someday, when we've eliminated the threats against her, she will be able to set her own path. Go to college, choose a career, and find a man who deserves her. That will not be me, and I won't take her firsts when she's only going to wish she saved them for someone more worthy.

What I need is space. Some room to fucking breathe, and get these fantasies of bending her over the counter and fucking her bare out of my head. I've never even thought of not using protection, but she's pulling a possessiveness out of me I didn't know I had.

I tell myself it isn't really about her. I might be fucked in the head, but physically I'm a normal guy. She's the first woman I've been around in the last couple of weeks. Besides, she's also a Blackthorne, and while she isn't guilty of anything, there's a sick part of me that would relish screwing Damien's daughter.

My life has never been mine. He thought purchasing children and training them to kill from a young age would create the perfect army for his empire. What he actually made were a group of sociopaths who would turn against him the instant their leash is released.

The door knob jiggles, and when it doesn't budge, there's a light tapping on the door. Not taking the chance that the manager has returned to see if Raven is alone, I grab my gun and exit the room.

Raven squeaks when she sees it in my hand. I put my finger to my lips urging her to be quiet. There's a peephole in the door, though it is a bit low for my size. I duck down and see Lucien waiting to be let in.

I open the door, and his eyes fall to the gun hanging at my side. He nods. "Glad to see you haven't let your guard down."

"Why didn't you call for a ride back?" It is at least three miles to Fallen Angels from the apartment.

His eyes are clouded. "I needed some time to think. I know we need money, and I made sure the club wasn't even remotely connected to my father, but that doesn't mean it's a good place to be."

Lucien might not be a ghost like I am, someone who doesn't exist legally, but he shares my feelings about selling people for money.

"I didn't see prostitution or drug sales, but those girls were so young. Most of them didn't look much older than Raven. And the perverts in there were getting off on watching jailbait degrade themselves for dollar bills."

We both know there are women who enjoy the art form of stripping. Burlesque dancers celebrate the female form, and I say more power to them. A seedy joint in a run down part of town, however, does not bring in empowered women celebrating their bodies. These women come from the neighborhood, and are fighting tooth and nail to stay off the streets to help their families, only to find their street corner behind curtained rooms.

"I'm going to take a shower and pass out. It's been a long day, and I start working tomorrow night. Have we figured out how the sleeping arrangements are going to work?

Raven's text pops into my mind, and her eyes find mine. It's like she can read my thoughts and isn't opposed to having me wrapped around her again. The fact that I would also enjoy feeling her pressed against me, and that I realize I'll sleep better knowing she's safe is a problem.

"There's a pull out and one bed," she replies to Lucien. "You are both more than welcome to take either of them, but they're the same size."

"I'll sleep on the floor," I volunteer. It wouldn't be the first time. When I was younger those that I trained with were given a sleeping bag and nothing else. I used my few clothes rolled up as a pillow, but otherwise I slept on a concrete floor in the basement we were kept in.

"Are you sure?" Lucien scratches the back of his head. While I shared a bed with his sister our first night on the road, he's clearly not wanting to make a regular thing out of it.

"Yeah, man. You're the one going to work. Besides, I'm used to it."

"Well, that's a fucked up reason you should have to be the one to sleep on the floor," Raven butts in.

"What other choice do we have?" Lucien asks her.

She shrugs. "We have the same choices we had at the motel. You two share, or I share with one of you."

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