Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,24

realization that I’m not who people thought I was would confuse them.

A soft line appears as I draw the outline of her body. A grumble of pleasure vibrates my chest as I swoop the pencil to create the curves of her small tits. Fuck, she’s perfect. I let the nightgown pool around her waist, shadowing the necessary angles and curves. When she said she felt me, I thought I was going to combust and tackle her on the bed. I wanted to ravish her, but I stopped myself.

I’m not good enough to touch her, not when my hands have seen more blood than a butcher.

My cock grows hard in my jeans when I draw her wet pussy. She has a small tuft of hair between her legs, and I sketch her hand over the spot that made her body jerk. When she came, I came in my jeans, and when she shoved the pillow over her face, I had to get close for a second. I had to smell her body. I wanted her scent tattooed on my lungs.

I want her branded on me.

And then she removed the pillow, and I ran.

I draw the entire scene, taking up a few pages of the journal by detailing my day. On another page, I decide to draw a close-up of her gorgeous face. So innocent. So pure. Daphne looks like darkness hasn’t touched her, and I want to keep it that way. If my shadows get anywhere near Daphne, I’m afraid the horrors that hide in the darkness surrounding me will cast around her, damning her light to my hell.

My brows pinch together when a smudge appears on the paper, right where I start to draw her eyes. Another one appears, then another, and I reach out to see what the hell it is, and it’s wet. I look up to see if the ceiling is leaking and then I look out my bedroom window to see if it’s raining, but it isn’t. We are in a drought.

I stare down at the paper again, knowing I’ll never be the man she’ll need. She’ll grow old with someone else, love them, make love to him, and have his kids. She’ll forget all about the freak in the bookstore holding a box of tongues to priority mail to his swamp kitties. Daphne will make a future because that’s what happens when you deserve greatness.

A man like me, I don’t have a future. I’ll die a biker, probably someday soon, and I’ll die alone. My future was carved in stone the moment my uncle touched me.

I’m a machine. I’m programmed to be heartless.

Bad omens fill my blood.

I’m doomed.

Another droplet smears the charcoal on the paper, and I get frustrated because I have no idea where the water is coming from. I snap the pencil in half and throw it across the room. I’m angry that my drawing of Daphne is ruined. I need to find where the water is coming from. I refuse to have her face anything less than perfect because it would be an injustice to her true beauty.

A knock at the door stops me from standing on my bed and inspecting the ceiling for any weak spots. “What?” I grunt, annoyed to hell. I’m mad at Reaper. I’m mad at this stupid water that only seems to drip whenever the fuck it wants. I’m mad at who I am as a man. I won’t ever be able to change.

Blood, death, and killing are too much a part of what makes me, me. I’ll always need violence as an escape. My uncle needed it too. Maybe it’s my blood that’s wrong. I’ll need to make sure I don’t have kids, so I don’t risk infecting the innocence in them. What if they come out like me? I can’t do that. I can’t make their lives a living hell because I decided to be selfish.

“Tongue, it’s me.” Sarah’s voice is muted behind the door, but hearing it makes me smile. I jump off the bed and run to the door, unlocking it to see my favorite person. Well, one of my favorite people. Daphne is number one now.

Reaper is behind her, and immediately I feel betrayed.

His eyes soften when he sees me, and Sarah gasps, covering her mouth in shock. “Tongue, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I drawl. “I’m just…” I almost give away my secret. Sarah doesn’t know about my journals. She knows about everything else, but the journals are mine. “I’m