Page 49 of Sweet Violence
I swallowed and shook my head. I hadn't realised there were tears on my cheeks until X brushed them away with gentle fingertips, leaning in to kiss the salt from my skin.
"I've never—never seen anything like that before," I said, faltering, choked. I was still a little stunned by the beauty of his movements; I used that as an excuse for being so open with him, but the truth was I trusted X. He never gave me a reason not to.
His fingers paused stroking my hot cheeks, dark blue eyes widening before going impossibly soft. "You saw me dance?"
I nodded, and tried to swallow the golf ball in my throat. "I've never seen anyone dance like that before. Or at all. X, you're … fuck, I can't think of the words."
"That's a compliment in itself," he murmured, and wrapped me up in him. The scent of soft jasmine and fresh sweat filled my senses. How had his floral scent become so reassuring so soon? "Thank you."
"How long did it take you to learn to dance like that?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.
"Mm," he considered, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of my leather pants. "I've been learning since I was thirteen, so fifteen years. I'm nowhere near an expert, I doubt I'd get a placement at a good company on Earth, but I love dancing. It's what keeps me sane."
I settled my arms around his waist, pressing my palms to his hot back through his thin shirt. "How?"
"When I'm dancing, the only noise in my head is the music. I'm not thinking, I'm just feeling. There's only motion and the next move and the rhythm of the music. It can get loud inside my head sometimes, and not even killing quietens it when it’s bad. Dance does. And it comes in handy when I'm fighting; I've used the same movements to dance and to defend my circle more than once. More than ten times, actually."
Huh. Maybe I should learn to dance. Although I doubted I had the patience to become as good as what I just watched.
I lifted my head, meeting X's blue eyes, surprised at the emotion churning in them. He never hid his feelings, never masked his crazy, but now there was even more life in his eyes than normal—awe and surprise and happiness and a four-letter word I wasn't going anywhere near.
I wasn't sure what made me say, "I know I threaten to kill you on a weekly basis—"
"Daily, at least," he corrected, making me smile.
"But I'm glad you're my mate, X."
He blinked, a hesitant smile on his lips. "You are? Even with … all the crazy?"
"Your crazy complements my crazy," I pointed out. "And yeah, even with all the crazy, I'm still glad."
X's beaming smile made his eyes disappear into half moons and crinkled the spade tattoo under his right eye. "I love you, Av," he said, a rush of breathless emotion.
"Yeah," I said. It was as close as anyone was ever gonna get.
Thankfully X kissed me instead of asking me to elaborate on my 'yeah.' I clutched him close, letting all my raw, aching emotion bleed into the kiss, a shudder rolling through my body as he met my lips with desperation.
"You're sure?" he asked, drawing back. "You're sure you want me? Really?"
"Really," I confirmed, a furrow between my brows at the intensity he watched me with. It wasn't unusual—everything X did was intense—but something made me ask, "Why? You don't think I want you?"
"I don't think anyone could," he admitted, still watching me with need and confusion. "I'm not right up here." He tapped his head. "And in here." He thumped his chest. "Something's all tangled up instead of being a straight line, and I turned out twisted and wrong."
"Twisted andright," I corrected fiercely. "You're right for me, and for the circle. Yeah, maybe regular people would be scared shitless of you, but they'd be scared ofallof us. We fit, X. We're the same. We don't need to play by normal rules."
The rose on his tattooed throat bobbed, and he glanced away. "You mean that."
"I do. I of all people would never judge you for being fucked in the head. But I'm guessing someone did."
"Yeah," he replied, his bottom lip pushing out in a way that made me think he was struggling with emotion. Badly. "It’s fine. Just … when I was eleven, my family left me on the fortress doorstep. It was freezing, in the middle of winter, but they left me as an offering to the devil, so he'd give them more power. And if I died…"
He shrugged, his hands flexing on my back, pressing into my skin as if I might try to run. "That'd be a nice bonus. Either they'd get a boon from the devil or they'd be rid of their black sheep."
I hauled X against my body and hugged him fiercely. "How would you like them dead? I prefer strangulation, but I'm not opposed to slicing and dicing."
X went limp with a sigh, hugging me every bit as tight. "I don't want them to die. They're my family."
"Well, they hurt my mate, so they deserve death." The same heart-pounding rage I felt earlier at the thought of Eidolon almost killing Arkan resurfaced now.
