Pain.
“I never told you about my mother.” Marcus’ eyes are open when I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved, he’s simply watching me.
“No, not much.”
“She was evil. We raised each other, my brother and I. To her, we were just a government paycheck so she could get high. I used to have to steal her money or steal her drugs to sell, so I could buy food for Blaze and me. She never cared. The most she bought us was one loaf of bread a week, that was when she remembered. And for two growing boys, a single loaf of bread? Well, let’s just say, it doesn’t last long.” He breathes out harshly, and I turn fully to see him. “She was the first real death I witnessed, but not before she used me so she could get what she needed. Her friends, as she liked to call them, would pay her money to do things to us. Burn us. Make us scream. I took most of it, and Blaze would run. I would always tell him to run. The older he got, he stopped listening, and soon I stopped letting her get away with it.”
“You were just kids,” I say, shaking my head.
“She was dead in our trailer for over a week before we called someone. I loved her when she was peaceful, when she was asleep and with no words or motion left in her.”
I just look at him, not really knowing what to say.
Marcus turns on his back and looks up to the ceiling. “I loved her, if that’s even the correct word. She was beautiful, despite all her fucked-up ways. You remind me of her. It’s why Blaze hates you so much. You look like her,” he says it as if it’s a good thing.
“I don’t want to look like a woman who did that to you.”
“I stopped seeing her in you the moment you opened your mouth. It’s the hair… you have her hair.” Marcus sits up, pushes my strawberry-blonde hair behind my ear. “If you died, pretty girl, I would keep you longer than a week. I now know what to do to prevent you from decaying.”
“That’s kind of fucked-up,” I say, my nose turning up at his words.
“I did warn you… I am far from normal.”
“Tell me what you see when you look at me?”
“I see a woman who has her claws in me so deep it hurts. That it’s the first thing in this life I am scared of.”
“And…” I say, climbing to sit on his lap.
“When I look at you…” he smiles, “… I don’t see death. I see life.”
“This is life. Can you feel it?” I ask, reaching between us and sliding him inside of me. His hands grip my hips as I start moving.
“I can feel your pussy.”
“And…”
“The words you want to hear, I’m going to whisper in your ear.”
He moves me faster with the help of his hands on my hips.
“That sweet pussy of yours that’s milking my cock.”
My breathing picks up a notch at his words.
“Yeah, you know the one. The one that’s currently squeezing me so fucking tight that I’m about to come. But I won’t. Do you know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because watching you come is the best thing since watching a body being torn apart. You have become my new favorite thing, pretty girl. If I were you, I wouldn’t encourage it. My obsession has become something you may choose to regret.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marcus
Rochelle doesn’t want to see the body. I take particular care when I prepare Tanika to be cremated. It’s the most care I’ve taken in anyone I have handled. And in the end, as I watch Tanika burn, I wonder why. What is Rochelle doing to me? And why am I letting it happen?
The following weeks flow by, and not much changes. Except her. She changes. Something in her is gone, and I don’t know exactly what. Not once does she bring up our relationship again or push for anything more. The words that she loves me also never leave her mouth again. It’s as if she’s been frozen in time and cannot escape.
Blaze ignores me as if I am the plague. He doesn’t like Rochelle, and she doesn’t seem to like him either. No matter how much Blaze dislikes her, I can’t seem to stay away.
Rochelle sneaks up from behind me, wrapping her hands around my waist and snuggles into my back. “Let’s stay in,” she says.
I would usually say yes because I hate going out, but the clubhouse is throwing Blaze a party for his birthday, so I have to go. It’s the one time of year I always give him. No matter what.
“Just an appearance,” I reply, turning to her.
She’s wearing something short, perfect for my hands to slide up and under to grip her ass.
“We can have more fun.” Rochelle’s hands slide down my body and she goes to touch the floor, but I reach for her and pull her back up. She distracts me with sex. It’s her specialty, and she’s good at it too.
“We will. After.”
Rochelle stands, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like your brother.”
“I know, and he doesn’t like you either.”
She shrugs her shoulders, throwing her hands up in the air. “Then why do I have to go?”
“Because you do nothing anymore, literally nothing,” I say.
Rochelle bites her lip and looks down. “You never do anything either but work, so what’s the problem?”
Stepping away from her, I take my keys and turn to her. “You’re changing. I know why. But stop locking yourself away. You didn’t die with Tanika,” I say, and it’s not until the last words leave my mouth that her eyes look up at me and anger is evident in them.
“A part of me jumped off that bridge with her,” she says, walking over to me. “Now, if you’re finished discussing this, let’s go.” She takes the keys from my hand and walks out of my house to my truck. She unlocks it and sits in the passenger seat as I lock up the house and follow her out. She hands me the keys and doesn’t say a word as we drive.
I look at her and wonder why I’ve stuck around for so long. Why I haven’t gotten sick of her. It’s been months now, and not once have my eyes strayed. Not once have I wanted another woman more than I want her.
It’s her.
Always her.
“I’m going to drink,” she announces, as we pull up to the clubhouse. Rochelle jumps from my truck and waits for me to meet up with her before she goes any farther. Her hand reaches for mine and she clasps it, squeezing tight.
I’ve become her lifeline, and I don’t know how to break that. Before me, she was her own lifeline.
Death has changed her. Seeing it, feeling it, has killed something inside her.
“You brought her? I told you not to bring her,” Blaze says, as we walk toward him.
“She’s right here, asshole.” Rochelle pushes into my side.
Harper stands, smiling at us. “Hey, it’s been too long.”
“Sit, Harper,” Blaze barks. “She isn’t welcome here.”
Rochelle ignores him and turns, looking up at me. “Drink?”
Before I can reply, a flash of blonde hair comes up behind Rochelle and pulls her strawberry-blonde hair backward, making her leave my side and fall to the floor. The blonde who was on my lap last time Rochelle was here jumps on Rochelle and punches her in the face. Hard. Rochelle gasps, covers her face, then in a split-second bucks the blonde off and flips her so she’s on top. Rochelle’s fast hands punch and she starts hitting, over and over again, until I reach for her, lifting her backward and off. The blonde who started it is lying on the floor crying.