Page 37 of Ink Deep Devotion

He quickly pulls his hand away, treating my touch like an infection.“You should know me by now, Mila. I don’t fix things.” The shadow of his grin spreads over his face.“I break them just like I did you.” He begins to walk to my door.

“Liar,” I shout. We always had the audacity to call each other out, forcing one another to acknowledge the truth.“You came tomy room. Inspecting my body for scars isn’t breaking me, Dash. You inspect things when you intend to fix them. When will you admit it? Confess to me you want to fix us, but you’re just too scared.”

Seconds hang in the air as I wait for his reply.“Nothing needs to be admitted or fixed.” He clears his throat as if his next words have to be forced out.“You’re bound to me, and I have to put up with you. The last thing I want is a doll that reveals her seams to the world, displaying how she’s put together and can be taken apart. Make sure you keep up your end of the bargain. Act like the ideal fiancé and eventually wife,” he spits the words out like poison.“Smile and nod when we’re out together; you can fuck who you want behind close doors.” He grabs the door.

“What about when we’re alone, when you are behind that door with me?”

The glance over his shoulder feels like a knife against my throat.“Don’t test me. You think your life has been caged?” His brow pulls taut.“I can show you a cage, Mila.”

“You can cage me, Dash King,” I edge back into my bed, grabbing the sheets to cover myself.“but I know how to open the door.”I know you still love me!

He turns fully, squaring his shoulders at me. The hallway light floods the room, causing his shadow to stretch out like the rays of light escaping a beautiful storm cloud.“Careful, little fox, opening the cage door only invites more monsters inside.”

Chapter 13

Mila

I blink, feeling the layers of caffeine-infused eye cream I applied under my puffy eyes begin to crack.

Perfect. Now I’ll look like an old crusty, dried-out cupcake.

In the world of beauty, there is never too much under-eye cream; in reality, there is such a thing as too much.

My fingers tremble so much that Santa would hire me to ring his bells, but I proceed like good old Saint Nick would, regardless of how naughty I have been. I clutch the door handle, squeezing so tight that my fingers are forced to comply.

Sleep evaded me after Dash left. Memories haunted me until the sun rose. Those chilly vacant blue eyes burnt a part of my soul; all the hazel within them seemed to have vanished as if any warmth within Dash had been sucked out and absorbed by the monster he struggled to keep hidden.

I’ll see Dash at school today. I have to look him in the eye and act like last night was nothing.

It’s impossible.

Last night was everything. It was an explosion of emotions that battered and slammed us both. It knocked us on our backs, and what do two horny young ex-lovers do when they land on their backs with enough pent-up energy to trigger a nuclear explosion?

They do naughty things because they are young, dumb, and heartbrokenly-still-in-love.

I’ve never wanted to run so badly. Maybe that’s why my father has two guards watching me from a distance now. Or maybe Marcus King is wise enough not to trust me. I ruined any chance I had to run away.

Then there’s that other side of me. The stupid ballerina stuck dancing the same story. I don’t want to run. I want to stay and haunt Dash, find him every hour, invade his thoughts, and make him want to give us another chance. Make last night a repeat pattern.

A bad pattern can be turned into a beautiful garment in the right hands, right?

What’s even more horrible? I haven’t reached out to Dom at all. I will have to face him today. He disappeared after the news at the holiday party. I know he couldn’t have swallowed it down well.

I’m trapped at school with two men who love to hate me and hate to love me.

I swing open the door, but instead of the filtered morning light streaming in from the hallway windows, two mountainous shadows engulf me. My feet stumble back as if an avalanche were headed my way; they step a foot into my dorm room and smile.

Are those smirks meant to be welcoming? Sure, they are handsome, but the shadows behind their gleaming eyes make me question their integrity.I feel like I’m at Hermès begging for a Birkin only to be handed a Picotin.Seeing them, whoever they are, is not what I wanted to see when I opened my door.

The man to the left steps forward first, hand out reached, allowing me to see the calluses on his palm. What’s always pressed against his skin, causing those marks?

Cowboy? I’m sure he has plenty of ladies wanting to be his saddle, but I doubt he got those calluses from leather reins.

Assassin? Bodyguard? That’s more like it.

My eyes trace up his honey-touched skin to a jaw so perfectly square that Euclid, The Father of Geometry, would write a new theory to praise his perfection.

I reach up and touch my own jaw. I didn’t know bones could form such pretty sharp angles. Dark hair with natural highlights in all different shades of earthy brown frame his face.

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