Page 68 of In the Light of Sin

He probably wouldn’t be. We never knew when we were getting deployed or going home. I didn’t respond and he knew I wouldn’t. I was shit at comforting people. “Promise me somethin’, Darin?” He didn’t wait for me to acknowledge his words before speaking again. “If something ever happens to me, make sure my wife and daughter are taken care of.”

Something happening to any one of us wasn’t fathomable to me, but I nodded anyway. His smile was grateful as he asked me, “You thinking of starting a family of your own someday?”

I shook my head. Never wanted kids or a wife. I enjoyed my solitude. “No.”

“You’ll change your mind when you meet the right girl.” I wasn’t so sure about that. “I was like that until I met Lisa. She changed me, gave me something to live for.”

That was the difference between him and me.

I didn’t have anything to live for.

My skull was pounding, my eyes squeezing together to try to relieve some of the ache, but it wasn’t working. I opened my eyes, and the light from the windows showed it was dark out now. Not daylight when Faith came in, her words sending me into what people feared; a fucking machine that can only be stopped with death or sedation.

I groaned, back aching from laying on the hard floor of the common room. This wasn’t my first time sleeping on this uncomfortable fucking floor. There’s been more than a handful of brawls that ended with a cracked open head and Hex sedating me. Could they at least give me a pillow next time? My neck hurt from being tilted back for however long I’ve been here. I was too big for the brothers to be able to carry me to a bed, so they just left me here after an episode. My body was heavily groggy with the side effects of the medication Hex injected me with.

I expected to feel like this. This is how I usually felt. The pounding in my head was lessening, letting me focus on my surroundings.

What I didn’t expect was the steady breath next to me.

With more effort than normal, I turned my neck, at a loss for words, when I saw Joslyn lying next to me on the common room floor. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her cheeks pasty and makeup smudged. She didn’t have a pillow or blanket; the only comfort she gave herself was her cheek lying on her toppled hands. Her chest rose and fell with a steady breath. Wearing one of my hoodies, she was careful not to touch me even though I’d been letting her hands linger longer lately.

This fucking woman. She really thought I was worth sleeping on a dirty floor for? My chest cramped, uncomfortable with the sentiment of her doing something as stupid as this. She didn’t belong on the fucking floor.

I reached my deformed hand up, pressing it against her cheek. My thumb caressed her cheek, stilling as her lips turned up, nuzzling her cheek into my hand, like she knew it was my touch and it was giving her comfort in whatever dream she was having.

“Can your voice be the first one I hear when I’m pain free?”

I’ve thought about that question and the weight of it. Words that had such a profound effect on me. She could’ve asked anyone, but she asked me. I knew it wasn’t because I was going to pay for it. She wanted me to be by her side. She wanted it to be my voice for her special first.

I was letting her get too deep into my skin. She was affecting my actions, my words, myeverything. I prided myself on having complete control over myself.

The way I fucked her. The way I watched out for her. The way I just fucking lost control of myself because someone insinuated that they were coming after her.

I had to hand the reins over to the wisp of a thing who decided to sleep on a dirty floor with me so I wasn’t alone. Knowing her, she fought her friends tooth and nail so that they left her alone to do this. She fought to be by my side. Proving to me over and over that when I just wanted her out, she was going to find a way back in. Even if she had to kick the door down herself and pull my head out of my own ass.

With more effort than usual, I got up, towering over Joslyn. My shadow covered her like a true eclipse; it was beautiful for a moment, but if left too long, it would destroy the world it was supposed to protect. I hunched my body over, putting a forearm under her knees and shoulders, scooping her up, and pulling her as close to me as our bodies would allow. I just stood there, taking in the warmth she brought to my frigid heart. Having her in my arms like this wasn’t a representation of how far she’s dug her claws into me.

She embedded herself inside of me in the worst possible way.

I walked off on autopilot, ripping my eyes away from the sleeping woman in my arms. I should’ve taken her to Hex’s clinic and let her wake up in a space she grew familiar with during Nyla’s recovery when she was shot. But I found myself taking her to the room we went to during Grim and Nyla’s wedding. We fucked here. I let her choke on my cock here.

She called me by my real name for the first time here. Something so simple but something that edges my mind daily. To everyone, I was Sarge.

To Joslyn, I was Darin–the man underneath the hood.

I cradled her with one arm as I opened the door to my guest bed here at the clubhouse. My steps were steady as I walked to the bed, placing her on the dark bedspread, knowing that she liked to sleep above the covers—strange fucking thing, but Joslyn was full of quirks. I knew how she bit the inside of her cheek when she concentrated. When she was happy, she had to kick her feet in some way.

When she saw someone in pain, she couldn’t help but put herself on the line to make them smile.

The moonlight from the window encompassed her, making her look every bit the goddess my brain deemed her to be. Even if she was in something as simple as a messy bun and my oversized hoodie, her makeup had the beginnings of raccoon eyes.

She was still the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

I leaned over her, her face peaceful as my thumb traced her cheek resting on her bottom lip. Never kissed a woman, never been tempted. But the way she looked right now, the way she was clouding every sense of control I seemed to have over myself—

I had to get a taste, even if she never knew.

My head dipped down to hers, lips brushing against hers gently. It was a weird contrast. Her lips were soft and plump. Mine were rough, unfamiliar with touching something as comforting as her lips. This was an experience I would keep to myself, a guilty pleasure to get me through the hard times ahead. Another caress from me. One taste of her lips wouldn’t ever be enough. I’ve never wanted anything more than to spend the rest of my days with my lips on hers. Visions of her kissing me when I left to do club business and her excited shrills when I returned quieted with my lips hedged my mind.

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