Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)



I LIFT HER chin and crash my lips down against hers. She’s stiff beneath my touch. I let my lips glide down her temple to her cheek where I place a gentle kiss. I’m so fucking out of my element, so far into my own head, with this tunnel vision, that won’t let the fuck up. I could keep lying to myself, saying I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But I know damn well what my problem is.

My problem is standing right in front of me, stiff as a board and seemingly terrified. Angry, quiet, dismissive, flirty. None of it matters. She’s a fucking temptress no matter what mask she’s wearing. Pulling back from her lips and whispering in her ear, I say, “Relax, Cub.”

“Cub?” she says, lifting her head. Fuck. I could rip my own goddamn balls off for letting that one slip. Something about her knowing the name I call her makes me feel oddly exposed. It’s uncomfortable and disarming. I can’t really make out why. And instead of letting her make it into a big deal, I push her up flat against the wall. Just thinking about fucking her gives me half a chubby.

“Why did you call me that?”

“It’s just a nick name. We all have them, remember?” I say. It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got. It’s the same lame excuse I gave Pop and the club when I said it in front of them for the first time.

“What does it mean?”

“You’re really fucking pushy tonight, you know that?” I say, backing off, irritated by the inquisition. Sure, it’s a simple question, but it has one hell of a complicated answer. Her jaw locks, and her eyes narrow in anger.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” she hisses. Something’s pissed her off damn good, but fuck if I know what it is. All I did was come in here to spend a little time with her, maybe make her come a few times, and here she is losing her fucking shit over it. She’s fucking lucky it gets me hard when she gets pissed like this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have this complication in my life.

“What is your fucking problem, huh?”

“You keep doing this. You just can’t keep doing this,” she whimpers, crossing her arms over her midsection as tears spring to her eyes. She lifts her chin, refusing to crumble completely, despite the tears on her cheeks. “You’re hot and cold. You want me and you don’t. What are you, bipolar?” She’s screaming now. Her arms fly up in the air as her shouts break up, half in Italian and half in English. I hear certain words that tip me off that she’s pissed at me, but for what, I’m still not sure. I have a feeling if she were screaming at me entirely in English, I still wouldn’t fucking know.

My entire body feels hard and tight, and I just need to pound something—preferably Cub. I’ve always been a go-getter. So fuck it.

I close the distance between us and cup her face in my hands. She lowers her voice, but keeps chewing me out in two different languages simultaneously. As hot as she is when she’s cursing in English, she’s fucking smokin’ when she’s pissed and cursing at me in Italian. I can’t make out the words, but I know better than to assume she’s praying for my soul. I lost that a long fucking time ago. When she finally calms down and stops crying, I kiss her on the forehead. When Ma’s pissed, Pop does it to calm her down. Sure enough, she stops bitching and lets out a heavy sigh. With her eyes focused on mine, she looks so defeated; consumed, even.

“Tell me you want me,” she says. For a brief moment, it’s a reminder of how fucked up our first time was, but I play along anyway. I’m too tired, too needy to get into this with her.

“I want you,” I blurt out and bring my hands to her hips. A shy smile breaks out on her face.

“You said it,” she says so quietly I almost believe I’m hearing things. I don’t even know what the fuck she’s talking about now, which seems to be today’s theme.

“What are you going on about?”

“You said you want me. Earlier, when I—” she says, but I cut her off by kissing her. This time she’s responsive and eager. Her lips slide against mine. She’s so soft in every way, and if I remember correctly, every fucking place. If I just focus on the physical, I can block out this shit that’s running through my head.

“Tell me you want me,” she says.

“I want to fuck you,” I say.