Page 142 of Kiss the Villain

“No.” I let my fingers skim the ink. “A snake shedding its skin represents survival and growth. Power through transformation. It’s about staying fluid, adapting, and never getting too comfortable.”

He falls silent, his hand drifting to the edge of the lily inked on my side. His touch is hesitant and it burns even though he’s not touching the lily. He pulls away, returning to petting the purring kitten on his chest.

He’s always like this—fine with being bent, tied, or dominated in every way, but hesitant about simple gestures of affection. It’s as though touching me too freely will cost him something he’s unwilling to give. The only reason he’s still touching my arm that he tried to remove from his chest earlier is probably because he forgot it’s there.

“What about the lily?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“I’ve always admired its strength and how it blooms under the harshest conditions.”

He hums softly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, his thoughts seemingly somewhere distant.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?” he murmurs absently. At least he doesn’t bristle at the nickname anymore.

“Why were you in such a bad mood at the archery range?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Gareth, I know when you’re not being yourself. You had that distant look in your eyes and didn’t even notice it was raining. Hyperfixation is your tell.”

He blinks, his eyes widening slightly. “You called me Gareth.”

“Am I not supposed to?”

He shrugs, but his dimples appear. “I prefer my first name to my last.”

“All right, but you’re not changing the subject. What had you so upset?”

His humor fades, replaced by something guarded. “Dad and Kill are reconciling. Or in the process of it.”

“And?”

“And I’m shoved into the background.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “Well, that sounded dramatic, but yeah. I don’t like it. I’m supposed to be Dad’s favorite.”

Hmm, I suspected this before, despite his clear negation of the fact, but Gareth has some hidden daddy issues. Probably because he thinks his father will never accept him if he sees his true face.

Not that I know his dad, but if he doesn’t? Gareth should walk away. Or walk all over him.

But then again, I don’t have the best track record since I never liked my own dad.

“This changes that?” I soften my voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Does it matter if it does?”

“Of course it does.” His voice hardens, jaw clenching tighter. “Without that, I’d have no purpose. I loathe the very idea of it.”

“Then don’t concern yourself. You’ll always have a purpose.”

He blinks at me, wary. “Which is?”

“Being mine, baby.”

A laugh bursts out of him, the sound rich and unrestrained. His dimples deepen, making him look younger, boyish.

“Laugh all you want, but being mine is an important purpose.”

---