Page 89 of Ricochet
Even the chill in the air couldn’t move me.
He brought us to the eastern side of the city, and when I told him where to go, he seemed to know the way even without me instructing him. The area between my hometown and Marlow Heights was filled with cliffs overlooking the ocean, and I couldn’t remember the last time my mind wasn’t preoccupied with the next assignment, the next victim, the next life I would have to take.
Even when we stopped near the cliff, I didn’t remove his jacket. Something about it being on my body calmed me, and he didn’t mention it. I didn’t know his name or what was he doing here, but I knew that his presence gave me the peace and comfort I so desperately needed at the moment, and that was all that mattered.
I used to read about this kind of connection with strangers, but I never truly believed in it. Yet, here I was, with a man I didn’t know, having an urge to stay with him I couldn’t explain.
It had been almost half an hour since we came here, and neither of us spoke. It was as if neither one of us wanted to break this comforting silence, this feeling of separation from the rest of the world. It was comforting sitting like this, just taking it all in. More often than not, we don’t have time to slow down, to see the beauty around us. I know I never had time. It was easy falling into the endless darkness and getting stuck there. It was easy for our minds to play games with us, to tell us all of the monstrous things we did, but it rarely steered us into moments like these. The last three years didn’t have enough of this.
There was always another shitshow I had to attend to, and moments like these were far and few between.
“I will forever be in love with the sky.” I broke the silence between us, staring at the horizon.
“It truly is beautiful,” he answered. But when I turned to him, he wasn’t watching the sunset. He was looking at me.
His eyes seemed lighter, the sharp lines of his face highlighted in the sun. I inched closer, tracing my index finger over the dark eyebrow, feeling the scar there.
“How did you get this?” For a second there, he kept quiet, and I thought he wouldn’t answer me. His eyes kept flickering over my own, zeroing in on the scar above my left eye. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me.”
I started retreating my hand, but he wasn’t having any of that. He placed my palm on his cheek and pulled me onto his lap.
“My father had a temper, and serious drug issues. Unfortunately, he thought it would be alright to bash my head into the bedside table every time his drugs were running low.”
My heart clenched painfully for him, and on instinct, I kissed the spot as if it would somehow make it better. As if the fact that both of our fathers were sadistic assholes would disappear with that kiss. This sudden overprotectiveness I felt toward him was messing with my head, but I wasn’t going to question it.
Live in the moment.
Take everything you want.
I wanted to kill his father, I wanted to kill my father, and I didn’t understand how I could feel this way toward someone I just met. I didn’t even know his real name, for fuck’s sake.
“I’m sorry.” I started retreating back when he cupped the back of my neck, keeping me in place.
“Don’t worry about it. He can’t hurt me anymore. No one can.”
“Hades—”
“Storm. My name is Storm.”
“Storm.” I played with his name on my tongue, and his eyes closed at the sound.
“Say it again.” He rested his forehead on mine, and looked into my eyes.
“Storm, Storm, Storm—”
The onslaught of his name was quieted with his lips on mine.
Claiming.
Wanting.
I opened for him, and he slipped his tongue between, battling with my own. The taste of him sent a rush to my head, and I knew I wanted this more than anything else in the world.
Fuck the Syndicate and all the bad things haunting me at night. Fuck Kieran and his cheating dick.
Now and here, this was what I needed. What I wanted.
“Oh God,” I moaned between kisses. “More.”
