his thumb across my cheek. “Don’t fear me, baby doll. My wrath is for the sons of bitches who hurt you. Not you. Never you.”
Heat invaded my body and my breath caught as I stared up at this animal of a man. I nodded, my heart rate beginning to settle as I accepted his words. I could see the sincerity of them blazing in his eyes and it set a fire burning in my soul.
He moved away, gathering up the articles and placing them back in the drawer, pushing it shut.
“You can read, I assume?” he tossed at me and I considered lying, but couldn’t see the point in it. He already knew that I could write.
I nodded and he sighed, pushing his hand into his hair then grabbing the neck of his guitar where it stood beside the fireplace and heading to the front door. He pulled on a coat, kicked on his boots then unlocked the door and walked outside. It shut with a bang and I jolted in my seat. He was angry, fuming. And I wasn’t sure what to do about it if he wasn’t going to sate his rage on my flesh. Not that I wanted him to. I understood the concept of a good person, I just had no memory of one. So I guessed this was my first taste. And yet I sensed this side of him was something rare. Because if the The Five turned on Nicoli, I imagined they would soon regret it. I knew monsters, and Nicoli was one. Just a different breed.
Tyson got up from his bed, padding over to me and resting his chin on my knee. I reached out and tentatively brushed my fingers over his head and his eyes drooped like he liked that. His fur was silky soft and the longer I stroked him, the more he looked like a goofy cartoon character, his eyes half rolling back into his head.
You’re not so scary.
When I stopped petting him he whined gently, looking to the door and I sighed as I pushed myself out of my seat.
I don’t know if it’ll work, wolf, but I’ll try.
I padded across the floor and picked up a pen and paper which was laying on the coffee table, scribbling a note on it before walking to the front door. I paused as the sound of Nicoli’s guitar carried to me and I rested my shoulder to the wood, closing my eyes as I listened. He hummed along with the dark tune, his voice a gravelly rumble that sent a shiver right through me. His song was raw and full of pain and it spoke to me in ways I’d never experienced.
“Drag me down, but my soul won’t rest. Oh baby, the devil won’t let me be blessed.”
I pushed the door open, hoping he’d go on, but his fingers paused on the strings and he looked up at me like he was about to tell me off when his gaze fell on the note as I held it up for him to see. Sorry.
The air was freezing, immediately pinching my bare legs and making goosebumps rush across my skin. But its kiss was sweeter than the pain I’d endured below ground. I’d take this wild, winter world anytime over that.
Nicoli stood, his brow creasing deeply as he stared at me across the porch. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I glanced down at the paper, wanting to write out another answer for him and he moved toward me, taking my hand and pulling me inside.
“Come on, you’ll freeze out here.” He shut the door and placed his guitar against the wall.
I guided his hand up in front of me, using my finger to paint words on his palm.
Sing more.
“You like my music?” he half laughed. “I’m a shitty musician at best. I sound like a man with a cut throat drowning in his own blood.”
I tugged his hand, making him look at me and I pursed my lips sternly.
His brows arched in surprise as I lifted his hand again and wrote, wrong.
I wanted to say more than that, but there wasn’t enough space on his skin and he seemed to realise that as he guided me over to the little table and chairs by the window and pointed to the notepad and pen I’d left there.
He pulled out a seat, releasing my hand and I moved to sit in the other one.