Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,13

All I know is when I stare at my hands, then look across the street from the alley into the bookstore window, I don’t want to hold a blade. I don’t have the urge to kill when I look at her. I don’t have the need to cut out tongues.

I think—no, I know—when I see my murderous hands, all I can see them doing is holding her now.

I ache for the solitude I know she can give me.

I’m not sure what to make of that. I love my blade. I love cutting out tongues. It’s something I need to do in order to survive. No one knows my story. No one knows what I’ve been through, not even Reaper. I’m fucked in the head after what my uncle did to me. I’m as good as I’m going to get, and people either need to take me or leave me.

I want Daphne to take me.

No one knows what to do with me, so I’m ignored. I know I’m different and misunderstood, but part of me wants to come out of the dark. I live in the corners, in the shadows, and it’s where I feel most comfortable and safe. But Daphne is all light, a bright sun rising on my nighttime soul.

She makes me crawl out of my hole because her light feels good. It’s warm. I’m always so damn cold, and I’ve never met someone who thaws the frozen blood pumping through my veins in the matter of an instant. Part of me is brought back to life from the quick moment we shared those few weeks ago.

It scares me.

I’ve only been this type of man.

A killer. A fucked in the head murderer. A sadist.

I’m not the kind of man a woman like Daphne wants. She’s supposed to be with men like the guy in the bookstore. All pretty and normal.

Yeah, but I don’t want her to be.

So she won’t be.

If I knew what is good for her, I’d let her go. Lucky me, I don’t know the definition of ‘good’ too well.

I step into the darkness of the alley again, and my heart pounds from our eye contact. She knows I’m here. She felt me until that fucking guy pulled her away from the window.

I sneer, curling my lip when I think of his face and perfectly parted hair. Is that what she likes? Does she like short hair? I reach up and grab the ends of my straggly mane and grunt. It’s just hair.

But would she like it?

I run my palm over my head, debating if I need to cut it for her. Maybe Sarah can cut it for me. She’s my friend. She’ll understand.

Sarah is great. She’s Reaper’s ol’ lady. We’ve connected in ways I haven’t ever connected with anyone before. I think it’s because she’s kind of like a mother hen to me. She cares about me, and I soak it up because I’ve never been cared for. It’s nice to feel love.

I flatten my hand on the brick wall, letting the rough stone rub against my callouses. Feels good. I need to leave before the cops get here, but I can’t seem to move. I need to watch her to make she’s okay.

Police sirens whirl in the distance and quickly come closer. Red and blue lights reflect in the window of the bookstore, bringing back a memory I wish would stay gone forever. The night I killed my uncle. I don’t regret it. If I had to turn back time, the only thing I would change is killing him sooner.

Two cop cars park right in front of the store. A big guy steps out of one, and he has a huge round stomach and a turkey neck. My fingers itch to cut all the extra fat off and send it to my swamp kitties, but I think it will be frowned upon if I killed a cop. Reaper can only be tolerant about so much, and becoming a cop killer is stretching it.

Maybe.

Maybe no one needs to know about it.

It’s something to keep in mind.

The other cop is in shape with tattoos down his arms. His uniform is a bit too tight, and he puffs out his chest when he sees Daphne through the window.

I growl under my breath. I want her eyes only on me.

The guy who works at the bookstore opens the door and steps outside to talk to the cops. My eyes land on Daphne, who stands in the doorway, and her