Page 63 of Justyce
The latter wins.
Reaching behind me, I wrap the white throw rug around her, pick her up and cradle her against me. She nestles into my chest with no protest and I smile at how perfectly she fits in my arms
I throw a look over my shoulder and hear Acheron snoring. I can’t help the smirk on my face as I leave him and make the small journey to my room.
Kenzi’s soft snores fill my ears as I pad up the stairs and it doesn’t escape me that I’ve never had a woman in my room.Ever.
A stray blue strand of hair falls from her face. I look down at her and fear grips my heart. This isn’t the way things are supposed to be heading. It’s the wrong direction, but I can’t seem to veer off this god forsaken track. The frightening thing is I don’t really want to, and that fucks with my head more than my father ever did or ever could.
Chapter Eighteen – Kenzi
I’m startled awake by soft metal music playing. Forcing my eyes to cooperate, I blink them open and adjust to my dark surroundings, realizing this isn’t a room I’ve seen before.
Moonlight cascades through the sheer curtains on the French doors, causing me to draw the blanket closer to my naked chest as the frigid air breezes in.
Where am I and where are my clothes?I wonder. Images click through my mind like a set of polaroid’s being snapped. That’s when remember what I did − whatwedid. It comes crashing down on me like a burst of fucking lightning, setting me ablaze from the inside. My head falls into my hands and I shake it from side to side. Did I really allow Justyce and Acheron to use me like that?
Use me?I admonish myself internally. They didn’t use me at all. I was a willing participant, and maybe that’s why I feel both dirty and turned on over the filthy affair with two of the hottest men I’ve ever encountered.
Ever since high school, I’d been intrigued by Acheron’s dark broodiness, especially that scar that ran from his clavicle to just under his lip. Even so, it was still always Justyce who ensnared me, renting space in my damn head.
Squinting, I peer around at what I assume is Justyce’s room, but it’s too dark to make out much of anything.
Curiosity coaxes me like a lamb to the slaughter and I find myself tiptoeing toward the music with the sheet pooling around my feet. When I reach the French doors, I peek around the sheer curtain to find it opens up to a balcony. The music is somber, poignant, yet the sweet melodic voice of Corey Taylor singing Chris Issacs’s “Wicked Games” doesn’t escape me.
The floor is like sleet under my feet and I shiver at the coolness of the breeze as I push through the open doors of the balcony. I’m not stupid or naïve. I shouldn’t be snooping or sneaking up on him, but since when has that ever stopped me? I’ll tell you when − never.
Justyce’s scent wafts over to me, along with the smell of nicotine. The red cherry of his cigarette looks like a neon sign in the cool night.
I stand there gawking at a topless, inked Justyce Travino sitting in a chair with his jean clad legs leaning on the balcony wall. Words wriggle up my throat, searing my tongue and threatening to spill out of my mouth upon witnessing the simplicity that is utterly him. He’s always had this dangerously sexy air about him, and as I stand there quietly spying on him, I’m reminded it’s the exact vibe I’ve been desperately trying to forget for eleven years.
Justyce hums away between drags of his cigarette and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seemed conflicted, uncertain, even though I can’t see his face from this angle.
As if sensing my eyes roaming the hard planes of his shoulder blades and spine, Justyce angles his head to catch me staring. I’m like a deer blinded by headlights. I can’t move. My feet are rooted to the cold balcony floor. His eyebrows lift when he notices me then he smooths back into his cocky self, with no sign of his wavering façade left from seconds ago.
Empathy slithers beneath my flesh, making my skin feel too tight when I witness the lament reflecting back in his eyes. It makes me feel − he makes mefeel.
He turns back, lights another cigarette, and says, “Miss me, Dark one?”
I cringe inwardly at the nickname, especially after all that occurred earlier. Tension mixed with charging currents ripple around us as I remain silent, refusing to acknowledge his question. Justyce lets out a small chuckle that lacks its usual zeal. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted to myself that he’s as much human as anyone else.
Clutching the sheet tighter against my chest, I step out further onto the balcony, hesitantly, praying that I’m not about to step on any land mines and blow up any of these translucent boundaries that circle him.
“Are−are you ok, Justyce?” my voice cracks, barely audible and making me feel weak.
His breath comes out in a harsh burst and I watch as his tattoos tense in the pallid moonlight. My hand itches to touch his flesh, to offer him comfort, but as my hand reaches out toward him, I pull back.
Tangling my fingers back into the cool sheet, I stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do and feeling like I definitely tripped some imaginary live wire.
“Sit.” His voice comes out monotone, uninterested, and it heckles me.
“Seems like you need some space. I’ll leave you to it,” I say and start to turn around.
“I said sit down, Kenzi. Don’t make me say it again,” he growls, leaving no room for arguing.
Begrudgingly, I walk the few steps to the chair opposite him and plonk my ass down, wincing as pain shoots through me and images of last night flood my memory. Forcing them away, I stare out over the balcony, and even though I’m not looking at him, I feel his eyes boring into me, searing my flesh.
“Frustrated, princess?” His velvety voice coos, teasingly, and I find it difficult to suppress the shudder of his words dancing over my skin. Not to mention the emotional whiplash he’s given me in the last couple of minutes.
