Page 30 of Sugar Coated

“Mike got really mad when I told him.”

“Did he? Can’t imagine why.” Lola smirked. “I’m kidding. I totally know why. There aren’t that many good guys in this city, but Big Mike is one of them. Of course he got pissed when you told him you mutilated yourself. He’s a good guy, but good guys can never understand what it’s like to be a pretty girl in this world.”

Lola, in reality, wasn’t that much older than me, but the way she talked made her sound wise and knowledgeable, like she had a lifetime’s worth of experience more than I did. I wondered if it had anything to do with the scar on her belly, the one she didn’t care to talk about.

I lightly touched the knuckles near my nubby fingers and whispered, “It hasn’t really been the same between us since he found out the truth. It’s like he’s always mad at me.”

“And, let me guess, you don’t want him to be mad at you?” When I didn’t say a word, Lola added, “Because you like the big guy—and I don’t mean you like him as a friend. You like him more than that, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit. ‘Course it matters. It always matters, so don’t ever tell yourself it doesn’t. When gals like us find someone who makes us feel like we’re whole, it fucking matters. Take it from me, sometimes it’s good to go with the flow and never give a shit, but when you find the one—or, in my case, the ones—who make life worth living again, you do whatever you can to grab holdof them and never let them go. If that’s the big guy, then you need to tell him. With the world as it is, you can never count on tomorrow.”

Man, Lola was just spitting one truth after another. The thing was, though, I didn’t know if I was ready to hear it. I mean, even if, say, I did admit that I cared for Mike as more than a friend, he’d still push me away and tell me I was just a job—it was his go-to when it came to me. There was no guarantee that he would let me in like he did that night, and I didn’t know if I could handle the rejection.

Yeah, yeah. How lame, right?

“And as for your mysterious Devil,” Lola went on, “I’m on whatever side you are. If you really like him, then I’m rooting for you two. If, on the other hand, you decide you’ve had enough of his enigma bullshit, I’ll always be ready to help you take care of him, if you know what I mean.” Given the way she said it, I definitely knew what she meant.

Kill him. She meant kill him.

I could honestly say I would never be okay with that, but as long as Lola respected my wishes when it came to my Devil, we’d be cool. I might not have known my Devil’s face, but I knew his heart.

He belonged to me as much as I belonged to him.

Chapter Six – Fang

Being away from my princess for days on end was torture, but I made progress on my work faster than I would’ve if I would’ve spent hours with Laina each day. I did get a call from Lola; the man Mike had given her to get information out of was being kept somewhere—actual torture, I imagined.

But the call wasn’t about him; rather, it was an idea Lola had, an idea that I already had when it came to my cotton candy princess.

Laina had expressed some desire to be there when Lola tortured him, and Lola thought it would be a good idea to make her something, just as I’d created Lola’s mask. Coming from someone like Lola, the thought was sweet, and I told her I already had something in mind.

It wasn’t the first set of claws I’d created. I’d made multiple gauntlets for my brother, the Beast. He had a penchant for digging those claws into his enemies and tearing them limb from limb. His gauntlets, of course, fitted over his hand. More garish, meant to induce fear in the men he was about to tear apart.

What I had in mind for Laina was more feminine, more sleek and slender in their appearance—but still just as sharp.

I was going to have them both ready for her at the same time. The one she could wear day in and day out, where the metal prosthetic fingers fit over the remnants of her actual fingers, shaped to be just like the ones on her right hand. They’d bend when she moved her nubs, mimicking real fingers with mechanical movement. Sleek, silver chains no thicker than a common necklace would connect to a bracelet on her wrist and keep them tight on her scarred knuckles.

I finished those first. The second set took a bit more work, as there was more to it.

Sharpened points, like long, extended nails filed in the shape of daggers, sharp enough to easily break flesh if she put any weight behind them. One for each finger, even her thumb. More chains connected to a bracelet, with an added plate of detailed silver for the back of her hand.

I made Lola’s mask more than just the lower jaw of a skeleton. I gave it intricate details; flowers, butterflies, similar things. I made it pretty, and as the days wore on, I did the same to the plate for Laina’s claws.

My princess would love these. I knew it in my heart, because I knew her. I might not have spent as much time with her as I wished, but I recognized the animal inside her. Just like me, just like my brother, my girl had something fierce in her, waiting to emerge. Her kidnapping helped foster it, and it would be up to me—me, Mike, Kieran, and even Lola—to help coax it out, to teach her that it was okay to be a little bad sometimes.

All I knew was, when Lola was ready to get the truth out of that asshole, I was going to be there. I wanted to watch Laina and see what she did with her claws.

I worked on the claws last, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to go that long without seeing my princess. After five days of withdrawal, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I told Laina to come over. I’d give her the normal prosthetic while I saved the claws as a surprise for later.

It was a weird feeling, being so excited to see another person. Normally I was a recluse; I’d always preferred to be alone and in my studio rather than out in the world, socializing. But when it came to Laina, well, things were a bit different.

In a good way, though.

I made sure my loft was clean, that my bed was made and the floors were swept. I told her I’d make her dinner if she wanted, and she said that would be perfect. I even invited Mike and Kieran for dinner—she’d told me the latter had finally woken upout of his coma, which didn’t surprise me in the least. I knew he’d never let a bullet keep him from her—but Kieran was still housebound, focused on healing and Mike said he’d rather not.

All perfectly fine, because that meant I got Laina all to myself.

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