Page 60 of Worth

A red sock thrown into the washing machine while Zander is washing his billion white button-down shirts? Check. He ranted about the pink shirts for an hour, turning on Aiden—who the sock belonged to—if he had accidentally left it behind.

Throwing theotherred sock in with his underwear? Check. Though he didn’t even rant, to my disappointment. I think he had given up on the laundry at that point.

Forks randomly left around the house—like on Zander’s pillow and Aiden’s shower and the table in the hallway? Check. Maybe this one was more just for me, but that was all right. A girl’s got to get her rocks off somehow, and the nervous looks that both have thrown me when finding one just make me smile. Inconvenient when you need a fork and there are none in the drawer, though.

Noting which book Zander is reading at night, and then hiding it after he re-shelves it to go to bed? Check. The first time he was just confused and grabbed a new book after searching a bit. When that one disappeared last night too, he’d snapped his attention to me while I studiously ignored him.

I was well aware my pranks really weren’t affecting Aiden, and I didn’t want to examine that too closely. Especially when he had done nothing but dote on me since returning home; and even when he seemed to catch on to everything I was doing.

I watch him now, through the window in the kitchen. He’s been going out to beat the hell out of a dummy that he dragged out from somewhere, after I declined to train with him yesterday. The bare skin of his torso glistens with sweat as he hits the dummy with controlled jabs, alternating arms. With his most of his back to me, I can’t even see his face, but the muscles in his arms and back ripple, tattooed skin dancing with his movements.

I also didn’t want to examine the heat building low in my belly at the way he looks as he moves. Does he have to do this without a shirt on?

Instead, I study the tattoos. A grim reaper with black angel wings stars on his back, filling it from top to bottom, side to side. A bony hand reaches out with an offer to take me to the underworld, tombstones of the ones he’s taken before at his feet.

On his arms, there’re various pictures and symbols that continue with a theme of death. A pin up girl with a skeletal face is featured on his right bicep, her tits all but spilling out of a corset, and in her hand is a skull. Roses cascade around her and down his arm where an image of a dagger looks like it’s pierced through his skin.

His other arm is less decorated, and I’m having a harder time studying all his tattoos on it from this angle, but there’s definitely an hourglass being held by a masculine hand, the sand escaping the design and slipping through the fingers. I know his barcode must be there underneath the ink somewhere, but even when I’ve seen his arm up close, the tattoos on it camouflage the proof he was once a Skin very well.

The only thing that seemswrongon Aiden is the large mark on his ribcage, the flesh raised in lines that are just darker than his skin tone. I had seen it before, but hadn’t really given it much thought. But now that I’m studying it, I realize what it is.

A brand.

A shriek, loud enough to be heard from upstairs, sounds and I smirk while I take a long drink of water without removing my eyes from Aiden. Zander had disappeared into the gym, which I didn’t even realize the guys had until the other day, over an hour ago. I had taken a wild guess he would shower afterwards and was proven right when I saw him trudging up the stairs, his white long-sleeve tee soaked with sweat. I guess turning off the water heater worked like a charm.

Aiden pauses, his body lifting and drooping with heavy pants from the exertion of what I just watched him do. He turns his head toward the house and I jerk away from the window as his eyes immediately find mine, catching me watching him. The smile he begins to give when he sees me drops, but I don’t think I’m visible anymore.

I watch as he seems to debate with himself aloud, though I can’t hear the words. Spinning around, he tosses down the padded fingerless gloves he’s wearing and walks toward the house. I scurry out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. Just as I reach the top, Zander stomps out of his room, dressed but decidedly pissy as fuck.

“What did you do to the water?” he hisses when he sees me.

I widen my eyes, blinking innocently. “What are you talking about?”

“You—” he starts, fuming. “Argh! Never mind! You’re lucky Aiden would murder me right now if I laid a hand on you!”

I bite down on a laugh as he tromps down the stairs, spitting out curses under his breath. I meander over to the table where the book I’m reading sets, picking it up.

“Kitten, I need to talk to you.”

I stop, keeping myself from facing him. “What do you want, Aiden?”

“I—I need to show you something,” he answers, his tone growing more determined by the second. “It can’t wait. We need to go now.”

Curiosity gets the best of me and I glance his way. He’s still shirtless, his body glistening with moisture. I fix my gaze on the tattoo across his chest—a black and white scene of sunlight breaking through gray clouds—which is still bare. Amongst the clouds is the phrase, ‘I love you higher than the sky’. I want to ask about it, but now isn’t the time.

“For what?” I ask instead.

Aiden shakes his head. “Please. I have toshowyou. It’s what I was doing while I was gone.” I open my mouth to cut him down, a bubble of fury breaking free. “I know I don’t deserve anything but your anger, butplease. Please let me show you this.”

Aiden was always my weak link, and I knew it. Now, with him here and pleading with me once again, my resolve cracks.

“Fine,” I say curtly, jerking my head in a nod. “Show me.”

Chapter 20

I’m having second thoughts as Aiden pulls the SUV to a halt in front of a warehouse that’s straight out of a horror flick. I cast a concerned glance at him, but he’s already getting out of the car and circling around the front to my side. He opens the door and waits without saying a word.

“Is the surprise that you’re going to murder me?” I ask dryly, not moving out of the car. I feel a bit of remorse for the comment when there’s a flash of hurt across his face.

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