Page 481 of The Tempted

Run.

I ordered another shot, made it a double, and knocked it back. I placed the empty glass on the bar and from the corner of my eye I watched as she took her date’s hand and begged him to leave.

Thatta’ girl.

Get the fuck out of here.

“This one’s on the house,” the bartender offered, sliding me a refill.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“The bill is on the table,” someone said from behind me, causing me to glance over my shoulder and look at the kid holding Lacey’s hand.

Treat her good.

She didn’t look at me, keeping her back towards me as she followed him out the door and disappeared like I asked her too.

She should only know I’d spend the rest of the night thinking about her, that she’d never fucking disappear becausesheownedme.

Every moment we shared haunts me.

Starting with that first night when her hands trembled as she reached for my body and the way I took hers. The tears she cried that night and the words I wounded her with.

That was just the first night where lines were crossed but, there were a shitload more incidents I wreaked havoc on Lacey. But that night? That was the night I claimed her. In my dark world of self-destruction and mayhem, I selfishly took Lacey, branded her mine, and I continued to brand her and mark her with my actions and my words.

And then I fucking fell in love with her.

Don’t think for one second that the few words I said to her tonight wasn’t a mark, purposely branding her, scarring her, ruining her for any other man. Others piss on their territory, I destroy mine. For all the track mark on my arms, she has a matching one on her heart.

Lacey was still mine and always will be.

Even when she gets over me and thinks she’s giving herself to someone else.

She’ll still be mine.

And any man who ever loves her will know who she belongs to. She won’t be able to give them all of her because I’ve taken most of her and I’ll never give it back.

I can’t have her but no one else can either.

I’m a selfish motherfucker.

A greedy son-of-a-bitch.

I’m a junkie and when drugs no longer do it for me I’ll get high on pain and suffering. My own.

Hers.

And all the faceless men that will one day try to take her from me.

I finished my drink, paid my tab and walked over to the nomads hanging around the pool table, a new group of brothers’ that were patched into our charter of the Satan’s Knights. My eyes zeroed in on Stryker’s as his peered back at me questioningly, trying to figure me out. The poor bastard had no idea what he signed up for. None of them did. I said my goodbyes and made my way out of the bar, letting the cool breeze blow over me as I walked towards the parking lot.

I could feel the high start to work me over as I strode to my bike and thought the drugs were finally kicking in but it wasn’t the manufactured shit that called to me.

It was her.

Her voice.

Her cries.

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