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Her eyes snag on the one closest to my heart. “What’s that one?” she asks, changing the subject.
A small flame ignites in my chest with annoyance at her quick change of subject, but I decide to indulge her. One step forward, two backwards.
“A tattoo.” I smirk. The rain is really starting to come down now, soaking her hair, but she doesn’t seem to mind though as she makes no attempt to hide from it.
Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she wants to reach out, but won’t. Again.
I don’t think my heart can take more punctures today.
26
Jordan
Raindrops slide down his muscular frame in rivulets as the rain pelts on us, eliciting cold goosebumps in all the places possible. That floral tattoo catches my eye again. It’s beautiful work. Roses and lotuses peeking out through ribs.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” I say, my hand itching to trace the lines. He’s so close I can feel his body heat, his hand at the back of my neck searing into me like the scar on my back. I’m fighting my own will not to reach out and touch his soft skin, and those carved, hard muscles. But most of all, be his comfort again.
“It’s my favourite one.” His hand goes to my waist, his fingers dancing along my exposed flesh, almost as if asking permission to pull me closer.
It’s getting harder to swallow and the rain is starting to restrict my view of him. We’re both standing on his balcony, getting soaked, his hands are on me, but none of me is touching him.
No matter how badly I want to.
Samuel’s return shook me to my core, and I think that’s why I came to seek out Kain.
His familiarity.
My safe space.
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because it reminds me to breathe. That I’m still alive, and that there’s beauty in being alive even though it might be hard sometimes. There’s still something that protects it.” His hand smooths the wet hair off my forehead, his eyes tracing every movement. “You’re my beauty in being alive. My purpose.”
Hearing those words tightens my throat so I trail my eyes up to the rose on his neck instead. “And this one?”
His mouth lazily pulls up on the side. “You have one”—he presses his finger to my sternum—“there.”
My rose tattoo.
My mouth opens and shuts again as I cut my gaze back to his ribs where his lungs expand and contract beneath it. I finally let my fingertips graze his tattoo and he flexes beneath me, inhaling sharply. His hands remain steady on me as I explore the lines of his tattoo, fingers spreading droplets of rain around his skin.
I held him so tight last night, but this… feels different.
“Jordie,” he whispers gruffly and I blink, retracting my hand away, as the feeling of cold hits me.
“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should go. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
As I step back into the warmth of the castle, I can still feel his presence behind me. Always. A. Step. Behind. Me.
“Don’t worry. I’d always chase after you. I will always be right behind you.”
“No, Jordie. Please, stay.” He almost sounds pained.
I force his voice out of my head and swing open his bedroom door, my goal being on getting to my bedroom and not staying where my traitorous heart wants me to be.
“What are you two doing?” Dorrian’s voice halts me in the middle of the hallway, blood already spiking in temperature.
“Do you ever mind your own fucking business?” I snap, fingernails digging into my palms.
