Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,57
doesn’t stop. Usually I find it annoying, when someone talks so much, but not Daphne. I want to listen to her speak forever.
“I’m not the kind of man who jokes, not intentionally anyway. People laugh at things I say or do, but I never play. I’m marrying you.”
“You realize how crazy that is, right? People aren’t going to be happy.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck about people, and if they piss me off, I’ll just—”
“Kill them,” she finishes my sentence for me, and I grin.
I take her chin in my hand and press a kiss to her lips. “You’re learning quick, Comet.”
“Why do you call me that?” She blinks up at me, curiosity singeing the blue irises.
“Sarah read to me one night, about comets and how rare they are. I’ve never seen one, but then I saw you through the window of the bookstore, and I knew for sure comets existed.”
“You know what a comet is, right?” she questions, a frown of concern between her brows.
“Yeah, I know. Some comets burn for hundreds of years, and that’s how I felt when I met you; like I could burn for you for the rest of time.”
“That would make you my comet.” Her fingers dance up my chest and tap my chin.
“We can be each other’s comets.”
She has no idea how true it is.
“I like the sound of that.” She wraps her arms around my waist, and another piece of me falls, shattering onto the floor. The old me is being replaced by someone new.
New-ish. She’s teaching me how to love; she isn’t taking away the bloodthirsty killer.
“So where are we getting married?”
“Elvis,” I state. Vegas is the easiest place to get married in. I don’t care where or who marries us as long as it is legal, and she has my last name.
“You’re funny.” She giggles.
“I’m not kidding.” Why do people think I joke all the time? I don’t understand.
“Oh… Oh! You’re serious. Okay, can we make sure the impersonator is a good Elvis? I don’t care about cheesy, but a bad Elvis is disrespectful to the true king.”
“Anything my Comet wants, she gets.”
She slides on her pants, and a black envelope falls out of the pocket. I bend over to pick it up, and the matte material feels good under my fingers. Daphne tries to take it away from me, but I open it and pull out the card, keeping it higher than she can reach.
I try to read the simple sentence, but I can’t. “This is from him?” I ball up the card and throw it onto the ground. I’m seething. My breathing is quick and the urge to cut, to kill, is strong.
“It says, ‘I’m always watching you.’ I’ll make sure to teach you how to read and write. You don’t ever have to worry about that again. Not as long as you have me.’”
I’m not mad that she caught me struggling. She doesn’t seem to care about my hindrances. She wants to help me with them. She isn’t trying to figure out why I can’t; she just
gets it.
I bend down to pick up the card and unfold it. The crinkles ruin the gold letters, and I stare at the sentence to see what it looks like. I can see why she thinks it is from me.
This has to be The Groundskeeper. He didn’t kill me on Halloween, so he’s pissed off and trying to make sure he does, indefinitely.
That man has been nothing but a pain in the ass since he set his sights on the Ruthless Kings.
I’m going to chop him up into little fucking bits and feed him to my swamp kitties. I’ll personally drive him to NOLA and feed his body parts to the gators.
My phone rings, and I crumble the card up again, then shove it in my mouth and chew it. I’ll be damn if this bastard gets the upper hand on me. Again. The card crunches, and the paper becomes soft. I swallow it. Letting his warning note settle in the pit of my belly, feeding the beast inside me, fueling my blood to kill.
I snatch my phone off the dresser and slide the green button to the left to answer. “Hello?” I grunt.
“Tongue?” Sarah’s voice whispers sleepily through the phone.
I lose my balance and fall to the bed. “Sarah.” I hold my hand over my heart. My soul is so relieved that it hurts. “You’re okay.” My voice breaks when the emotion chokes my throat. “I’m so