Page 75 of Séance

It’s only when Rue speaks that I realize I got lost in my mental list of things I need to do to entice her into loving me. “What did you say?”

A tiny smile flickers across her luscious mouth, like she knew where my thoughts wandered, but she’s nice enough not to tease me…not yet, anyway.

Soon, she’ll learn that I love to be teased and driven mad by her.

“I said I have been drawing images for years. It’s only after I met you that I realized those images belonged together.” She peers down at her hands, adjusting her rings in a nervous gesture. “When I saw your tattoos this morning, things connected in my mind. Walking by a tattoo shop just seemed like fate.”

“Fate…” I nod my head, nudging her chin up so her teal eyes are on me again. Like an addict, I can’t get enough of her looking at me. “I like the idea that we’re fated.”

A gorgeous blush climbs in her cheeks, and I barely stifle a groan as my cock threatens to bust out of my pants. Fuck, I’ve never been so damn hard in my life, and I’m afraid to move and shoot my load at the beautiful picture of her blushing for me.

My eyes drop to the fading bruises on her delicate skin, and my mood sours. They are almost gone, thank fuck. It’s hard to control myself at knowing someone would dare touch her in anger. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I need to know if she’s afraid of me after what she saw last night.

It would kill me if she ever looked at me with fear.

“Does my fighting scare you?” I ask, terrified to speak above a whisper, worried it will make my worst fear real. My emotions are a tangled knot in my chest, threatening to strangle me as I wait for her answer like my life depends on it.

And maybe it does.

I’m not sure I have a life without her and the guys.

I stare down at my hands, flexing my bruised knuckles, unable to look at her and see her recoil as I spill the secrets of my past. She needs to know the full truth before our relationship goes any further.

I won’t trap her with a monster she’ll come to hate.

“My whole life revolved around violence. I was born with only one purpose—replacement parts for my dying sister.” I absently rub the surgery scars hidden under my tattoos. “When she died, despite doing my best to keep her alive, the rest of the family fell apart. My mother resorted to pills, while my father fell into a bottle. The only way they communicated was through violence.

“After my father killed my mother and went to prison, the only way to survive was to fight. With each match, I make a little more money. I’m good at using my fists.” I hesitate, then shake my head. “No, that’s not the whole truth. Money isn’t the only reason. Fighting helps me keep my demons contained.”

I reach up to tug at the collar of my shirt when it feels too tight, only to realize that I stripped it off.

Fuck.

I drag my hands through my hair, then roll my shoulders as I fight the need to run. “Fighting helps keep my temper in check. It stops me from lashing out. It would kill me if I hurt the people I care about most.”

I drop my hands to my sides, my throat too tight to speak more.

I can’t look at her as I wait for her verdict, I couldn’t bare to see her face twist in disgust.

“The instant I start liking it, I’ll quit,” I tell her earnestly, interrupting her before she can speak, one last bid to change her mind before she dumps my ass. I lick my lips and swallow hard. “I swore it on my sister’s grave.”

Rue takes her time to answer, which has my stomach churning with dread, and I suddenly find the grease under my nails fascinating. My head fills with static and doubts, but I’m glad she’s taking this seriously. The last thing I want is for her to answer in haste and regret it later, even if her hesitation doesn’t bode well for me.

“Fighting isn’t inherently good or bad,” she says, her words measured, and my heart lodges in my throat, anticipation and dread stealing the air from my lungs. “It’s how people use their fists. Some people use them to beat people down, while a rare few actually use them to save others.”

She’s talking about herself.

My heart shatters as darkness haunts her eyes. Needing to banish them as much as I need to breathe, I grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. She blinks, then grips my hand just as hard. The darkness clears, her teal eyes lightening, and a gentle smile breaks across her face. “People touched by violence know the difference.Weknow the difference. You would never lay a fingeron me or anyone else who didn’t deserve it. It’s never about inflicting pain on the innocent for you. I believe that with my whole being.”

“Never,” I respond instantly, my word a vow, and I wince at the gravelly tone of my voice, hating that I sound like a thug. Heart slamming against my ribs, I search her eyes, looking for a hint of doubt.

And find nothing.

I wilt like air being let out of a tire, and my arms ache to drag her close.

Rue nods, then leans forward, and I stop breathing. I swear I can almost taste her on my lips when she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

“I’m going to have to apply the sketch in sections. I need to get the placement just right,” Jace mutters, walking to the ink station as he sorts through a few pages of transfer paper. “By the time they are placed, Ellis should be here with the ink. Rue did such a nice job with the sketch that very few alterations were needed.”

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