Page 91 of Ink Deep Devotion

One look at me, and she knows I’m a weak girl who has let men control her entire life. I see the disgust in her eyes when I stutter in fear this morning after knocking on her door. I also catch a gleaming sparkle, like I’m a new toy she wants to play with.

So I let her play with me. Maybe I’m falling back into the role of being a doll, but I try to learn from it. I want to taste what it’s like to be Nova—a strong, badass bitch who tells Dash King he interrupted her beauty sleep.

Who does that? No woman I’ve ever met. Every girl at school falls at Dash’s feet. Nova lights a match and sets fire to his soles instead.

Nova steps into my life like a fairy godmother, but instead of giving me a dress and glass slippers, she stomps on the glass shoes, teaches me how to walk on the shards without feeling the pain, and then tries to shove a pair of combat boots onto my feet instead. She hands me red lip gloss, tells me to let my hair down and go braless, and... influences me to break a lot of stuff.

I swallow, unsure if I should check myself into a clinic or just laugh at the scene in front of me. Our entire living room floor is covered in broken dishes. In defense, Nova told me to break them one by one. I emptied the entire kitchen cabinet.

“That did feel good.” My laugh fades into a smile. I’ve never done anything like this. Each plate or cup I threw onto our floor felt like a shaking of my cage.

Glancing at Nova, I have this desire to be more like her. I want to be strong, unpredictable, and confident enough to make Dash bend a knee.

Right before we started breaking all our dishes, Nova punched me in the shoulder. Then she told me I was used to rolling with the punches—she was right—and advised me to start throwing the punches.

“You’re going to be a bad influence, aren’t you?” I add.

Her smile grows as she crosses her arms.“Calling me bad is an insult to the evil mastermind inside my mind. I’m going to burn down everything you think you know. There will be nothing left but ashes, so many ashes falling like snow. I’ll make a little snow angel in them. Don’t worry, though, because, from those ashes, I’ll sculpt you up like a fine piece of clay.”

???

I walk around Dash’s bedroom, gliding my finger over his dresser. There is nothing in this room that relates to him. It’s a blank canvas, void of his personality. He always hides it from the world, just like he’s hiding now.

The King men have been gone for three weeks. Usually, when they disappear, I bury myself in my art, but I’ve been enjoying my time with my roommate. As much as I want to embody her strength, I also find myself wanting to help her. Nova is an incredible, complex person, and I know within those layers, she is hiding a very broken soul.

I can’t help it. I always want to help creatures, whether they are defenseless kittens or snarling beasts with claws. It’s my weakness.

Per Dash’s demands, though, I am ordered to sleep at their mansion house when he’s out of town. Nova recommends I burnit to the ground. I smirk, thinking about how serious she was when she told me that.

Instead, I find myself obeying it, only to curl into Dash’s sheets each night. But tonight, I can’t sleep; questions keep me up—what ifs?

What if I never agreed to help Dash when we met in high school?

What if I had succeeded in running away when he was gone? Would he have come looking for me, or would I remain a blip in the wind?

What if…he’s hurt right now?

I grab my phone—it’s still the phone Dante gave me—and scroll through all their names—the men who each have a piece of my heart. I call Dash just like I have every night he’s been gone. He never answers, but I know he’s screening my calls because a minute later, either Titan or Damian calls me back.

“What?” Dash seethes when he picks up.

“You…you answered.” I grip the edge of the dresser in shock.

“Consider this a win. You pestered me enough.”

Walking to his bed, I sit down and curl my legs up.“Where are you?”Do you miss me?

He pauses before he replies,“In Italy with Dante.”

He’s speaking, which means he’s crumbling. He only responds when he needs me. I miss the days when we used to shower together. The distant conversations help dull the ache, but they never fully erase it.

“Oh,” I breathe a sigh of relief.“Tell Dante I say hi.”

“What do you want?” He huffs in frustration.

“You,” I whisper.“When are you coming back?”

“It’s a need-to-know basis.”

---