Page 6 of Roma Queen
Zara bites down on her bottom lip and tugs it slowly through her teeth. “I’m actually sorry that you didn’t,” she says. I barely hear the words, but they’re there, and she means them. I’ve lived with the knowledge that I killed Lazlo for three years, and it hasn’t kept me up at night. I haven’t felt guilty for what I did; he deserved that knife in his gut as far as I’m concerned, but now, finding out that hedidn’tdie, I have to admit…it feels as though a dark shadow has lifted from me. I was prepared to live under that shadow. I considered it a reasonable price to pay for saving Leo and countless others from the threat of such a vile piece of shit.
To have Zara say this, though? That she wishes Ihadkilled him? That’s more of a relief than finding out I’m not responsible for another human being’s death. Because, given the opportunity, Iwillhunt him down and Iwillhurt that motherfucker. I’ll take up a knife again, and I’ll sink it somewhere more vital this time, and I’ll make sure he expires for real this time. And…to think she might not run in fear of me after that? That is fucking massive.
“I used to have a crush on my second cousin,” she says. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
It’s hard not to fucking laugh. “Hmm. I just tattooed a giant cock on my second cousin’s back without his permission.”
“What?”
“He fucking deserved it. What else?”
She thinks for a second, and then goes a little red. “I masturbate to porn nearly every day.”
Oh, good fucking lord. I stifle back a groan. “What kind of porn?”
“It depends. I like…” She squirms, obviously uncomfortable with this particular confession. “I like watching women together. And sometimes…I like watching really rough stuff. Two men. Maybe even three?”
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard. It’s the only way I can keep the string of curse words burning on the tip of my tongue at bay. God, the thought of her touching herself in the first place is fucking driving me crazy. But the idea of her watching two women licking and fucking each other? Or her getting off to a group of men all fucking the same woman at once? “You have no idea how badly I want to pull this car over onto the side of the road and fuck you right now, Firefly.”
She pulls the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, fidgeting like crazy. “Oh, god. Please don’t tease me. This is mortifying.”
“I’m not.” Reaching over, I grab hold of her by the wrist and jerk her sleeve back up her arm. A second later, I have her hand on my crotch, and I’m squeezing her fingers around me. “I’m hard as fuck, Firefly. The visuals…Jesus. I’m gonna be jerking off to those visuals for the next ten fucking years.”
Her eyes are wide, her lips parted as she looks down at the point where our bodies meet—her hand on top of my painfully erect dick. “Ooh. You wanna be bad, don’t you, Firefly?” I wasn’t teasing her just now, but I am one hundred percent teasing her now.
Something like defiance flashes in her hazel eyes. “Maybe.”
I allow myself the dangerous smirk that curls up the corners of my mouth. “I bet you do.”
She rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance. “Fair’s fair, Gypsy Boy. It’s your turn. Spill another secret before I die of embarrassment.”
“I…fuck.” I shake my head, glancing away. This is so fucking dumb. “I used to have this flyer when I was a kid. I used it as a bookmark.”
“A flyer?”
“A promo flyer for home insurance. There was this huge house on the front of it with a wraparound porch and a huge garden. In front of the house, a man and woman were playing with a little boy. His parents, I assume. The kid was throwing a ball, and the family dog, this shaggy golden retriever, was jumping up to intercept the ball, and everyone was laughing like crazy, and…I used to stare at the picture at night and imagine that I was that little boy. I used to pretend that the man and the woman were my parents. Normal. We had a normal life with a normal house, and everything we did was fucking normal, and…fuck. I used to want that so fucking bad.”
It feels wrong to admit this. Makes me feel weak. Awkward in my own skin. Not just embarrassed, butbad. I glance at Zara out of the corner of my eye, expecting to find her laughing, entertained by the concept of a nine-year-old Pasha Rivin daydreaming about an average suburban life, but instead I’m met with a lopsided, understanding smile.
“Most kids dream of running away and joining the circus. You were already a part of the circus. Kind of. Makes sense that you’d want a little stability.”
She hasnofucking idea.
It’s quiet for a while. We’re deep into the Colville National Park. Each turn of the road feels like it’s leading us toward yet another inevitable event. Every mountain peak rising up on the horizon, jagged, capped with snow, is as familiar to me as my own reflection in a mirror. Three miles pass before Zara speaks again. “Who do you think you would have been?” she asks. “If youhadbeen born in a house with a wraparound porch, with the regular mom and dad, and the white picket fence?”
I take my time, chewing over my response. “I don’t know. Maybe I would have been a writer. I always loved telling stories. Maybe I would have bought a house by the beach on the east coast. Maybe I would have taken up running, and painting, and I would have spent my time building things in a sweet workshop, and everything would have been calm, and reassuringly predictable. But I’mgladI’m not him, Zara. I’m glad my life isn’t predictable, or calm. Orsafemost of the time. I like who I am now. I’m a little fucked up. Rough around the edges. I hit things and break things a little too much. I have absolutely no problem beating the shit out of someone if they fuck with me or someone I care about. People cross the street when they see me walking toward them at night. None of it matters, though. I became the person I needed to be to survive. I refuse to regret or feel bad about that. None of it really fucking matters anyway.”
“Why?”
“’Cause at the end of the day…I’m the lucky motherfucker that bagged himself the girl.”
Zara chuckles under her breath. “I’m happy for you. You’ll have to introduce me to her someday.”
“Ahhh, Firefly. What’sthat? Cold feet? Scared to have tied yourself to a cage fighting, inked-up, potentially incredibly dangerous dark-haired stranger, who just so happens to be really good in bed? Say it ain’t so.”
A real, broad smile breaks out, taking over her face. She tips her head back, and the sound that fills the Mustang has my heart soaring out of my chest. God, I fucking love the sound of her laughter. It’s the most magical fucking thing I’ve ever fucking heard. When she stops laughing, she swivels in her seat, tucking her leg up underneath her so her entire body is facing me. She reaches out, her hand hesitating before she takes a long, slow, steady breath and touches me.
This is a first. The first time she’s ever been brave enough to reach out for me on her own because she wants to. I sit very, very fucking still as the tips of her fingers make contact with my temple. She strokes them down, over my cheekbone, along the curve of my jaw, and then underneath, following the line of my neck until she reaches the collar of my t-shirt.
