That’s when I realised I had grossly underestimated the danger of this girl. She could cut my throat right now and I’d probably praise her. My dick hardened in agreement.
“Why does that make you horny?” She chuckled.
“Because terrible is my type of aphrodisiac, baby, and you just called straight to my libido,” I groaned, laying her down on her side and cuddling up behind her.
If she wasn’t careful, I was going to fuck her into a stupor. I didn’t want that for her when I couldn’t promise more of myself. Not there, not right then.
Although. it didn’t help when her ass kept pushing back against my restrained dick. Placing a hand on her hip, I stopped her driving movements. “Behave, Golden Girl. Sleep.”
“Hmph.” By my command, her muscles settled amid the warmth of my body curling around hers. The gentle rise and fall of her chest evened and I dug my nose into the base of her neck, drowning in her scent.
MICAH
August’s fingers were interlocked with mine. We hadn’t slept, preferring to utilise the limited time we had together.
“August Mathers?”
He snickered, the vibration radiating up my spine. “Hmm. I was born in August. My parents lacked any imagination, it seems.”
“And Ava Mathers is your sister. Is there anyone else?”
August flinched, shocked to hear his sister’s name spoken aloud. A name he was willing to defend against all others.
August was still ruminating on the change in our relationship. We didn’t have a label (nor did we need one), though he was in borderline panic mode from the amount of vital information he had already surrendered.
Our trust was too natural, our reliance too easy. He was waiting for the kicker to roundhouse him in the face.
I waited. This was an internal battle he had to fight on his own. Then his resolution progressively hardened and he chose to trust in me.
Pressing a kiss to my shoulder blade, he relented. August chose to trust in us.
“Our parents were killed when I was fifteen years old, my sister thirteen.” He paused, dragging in a breath. “Fuck, I need a cigarette,” he muttered.
My thumb stroked the palm of his hand. I still found it remarkable how my Variant and body accepted him so fully, so wholeheartedly. I couldn’t risk over-analysing our connection, or we’d both go insane.
We’d settled into a quiet contentment, freely surrendering the innermost darkest recesses of ourselves, for the other to take and safely keep.
“We didn’t have anyone else. After they were gone, I didn’t want Ava and I to be separated in the foster system, so we ran away to live on the streets.”
“I was always good at fighting, so I naturally gravitated to the Caverns and made a name for myself, gaining as much power, money and stability as I could. I was her big brother and I wanted to—would—do anything to protect her. Which meant I was inducted into the Ludus Maximus at eighteen. I believed my initiation would give me everything I needed to keep her safe.” He shuffled closer, burying his face in my hair. “Instead, the person I sought refuge with used her against me.”
His experience was difficult for him to convey. I was certain that he’d never had to articulate his tragic past into words.
Although he spoke the truth, he’d given a simplified version, the complicated traumatic memories sending his emotional state spiralling. I squeezed his hand in comfort, all too familiar with the same emotions aching inside me.
For August to give up anything at all was a small spark of hopeful light, and with it I wanted to give him the world.
“Did you find the person responsible?” My gaze flicked over my shoulder with the underlying question. Did you kill them?
“Not yet, but I will.”
I bumped my nose against his. “I understand.” Above all others, I truly did understand.
I whispered a promise against his lips and he released a tremor. “I will find her for you, August.”
“How?” he murmured. I could feel a wisp of doubt, his resistance to hope for what he had yearned for, for so long.
My mouth lifted into an obnoxious smirk and I flicked the middle of his forehead. “I am Micah King. Put some respect on my motherfucking name.” His small hint of doubt simultaneously dissolved into amused disbelief, and a healthy splash of fear. I cackled like the mad woman I was, his worries leaving him, if only for a minute.
Chapter 15Micah
The low hum of the tattoo gun wafted over me with familiarity, the sting of the needle a reassuring presence rhythmically piercing into my skin. A week had passed since August and I had stolen those snapshot moments in the basement of Oakview Asylum.
He now remained a constant presence. In my mind, on my flesh, throughout my dreams.
“Now you’re starting on your legs. You’re going to run out of room soon,” Emerson said, as she sat atop a desk in the corner, flipping through a design catalogue.
It was the early hours in the morning and we’d commandeered the most notable tattoo and piercing parlour in the city.
I ignored her, concentrating on the intricate pattern, when a bang sounded out back. I spared a vacant glance at the blue-haired woman with silver eyes who filled the threshold, wearing a recognisable smirk.
“How’d you go?” I asked, returning to my task.
“For someone that’s a prisoner, she really is a spoiled princess.”
Emerson snickered. “So you got along then?”
