AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Those hands.
The tattoos.
Sara.
The name on his fingers taunts me.
“Who was she?” I meant to ask myself that question in the privacy of my mind, not speak those words out loud.
His grip on my throat tightens, it’s firm, but there’s no pain or fear.
I hold his gaze, hoping mine conveys reassurance. I know he’s not in his right mind, and I need him to calm down.
A low growl comes from deep in his throat.
I inhale.
His eyes close.
I exhale.
Demon drops his hand and steps back before he sits his ass on the bed. “Sara is—was… my sister.”
Was.
I blink rapidly to stave off the tears. “I’m—”
Head still bowed, he says, “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I fuckin’ hate that.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Will you tell me about her?” Now that I have one answer, I crave to know more. I want to know everything about this man. What drives him? Why the vendetta against my father, and most importantly how can I help him destroy everything the Santos name touches.
For a long time, there’s silence. Demon sits, head bowed, hands clasped together. Finally, he raises his head and what I see has me falling to my knees in front of him.
God how his pain calls to me…
Tentatively, I reach out and place my hands on his knees. “I’ll help you,” I promise him. “Whatever you need from me? It’s yours.”
Deep green eyes meet mine and our gazes lock. We’re both fighting our pasts.
But his demons are winning.
I have no idea what I’m doing. My life, my body, my soul… pain fills me to the brim, so much that it threatens to seep through my pores.
So tell me why I want to take his pain?
Take heartache and make it my own. Free his soul from the monsters who’ve made a home deep inside.
Fingers trembling, I cautiously slide my hands up his thighs. His eyes track the movements, and when he doesn’t stop me, I continue until my shaking fingers reach the button of his dark wash jeans.
I clench my fists to stop the trembling before I inch forward and tug on the zipper. The air grows thick between us, and his chest moves with each ragged inhalation.
When thick, tattooed fingers wrap around my wrist, I lift my head and look up at him.
“You don’t—” He swallows, then clears his throat, his voice a low rumble. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t expect…”
Raising my hand, I press a finger to his lips. “Please. I’ve never… I’ve never chosen for myself,” I say. “Let me choose…”
I can see the battle in his eyes, and for the briefest moment, I think he’s going to say no. But then he relaxes his grip, and his hand goes back to the bed beside his thigh.
