The Sinister Silhouette

Sensing my train of thought, one corner of his mouth tips up. “I meant you in your bed and me in mine.”

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. I look down and finish with his hand. Once it’s cleaned and bandaged, I throw away the used gauze and put everything back in the kit.

“Thank you.”

I turn to face him, offering a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

After a moment of silence, he takes a step back from me. “I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, come get me.”

I don’t want the night to be over, but I know we’re both exhausted from the day’s events. Besides, I’ll see him in the morning, just like he said.

“Okay,” I reply faintly.

“Good night, Jules.”

“Good night, Luca.”

I walk away, leaving him in the kitchen. Up until now, ever since I woke from the coma, and except for seeing Aria, I’ve dreaded what the following day would bring. Now though, I can’t wait for tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Luca

I LIE IN BED, STIFF as a fucking board, for over an hour. My mind is all over the damn place, but one thing keeps pushing to the forefront.

Rape.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw.

I raped Jules. Or according to Theo I did. My worst fucking nightmare. The one thing I refused to think as I tried to remember what happened that day over seven years ago. That’s what has plagued me the most, because if someone is twisted and fucked in the mind enough to fixate on a woman and attack her, then he’s capable of even more heinous acts. Like fucking rape.

Thousands of icy shards of pain stab at my chest when I think of hurting Jules in that way. How in the fuck could I do something so violent? I’ve always had a volatile temper, and I’ve done some pretty fucked-up shit in my life, but that’s never something I would have thought I would be able to do.

I’m still not sure I believe Theo, but I can’t imagine him lying about something so vile and repulsive. Nevertheless, even the thought of it being a possibility makes me want to dip my head in acid to rid myself of the images conjuring in my head.

What I don’t understand is Jules’s utter lack of fear toward me. Sure, I saw the initial shock and pain on her face after Theo spewed those hateful and damning words, but once he left, that pain was gone and there was no fear. What amazed me more was she wanted to stay. I was half expecting her to leave with Theo. But then again, her memories of me supposedly raping her are absent. Theo’s attempted rape is fresh. Of course, she would pick the lesser of the two evils. But when I mentioned her staying with my parents, a place where she would be completely safe from both of us, she refused. And that shit I just don’t understand.

I also think about the look I saw in her eyes as she was doctoring my hand. I felt her nervous tremors, but I saw a deep-seated need too. A need that called to me, despite the abhorrence of what I was accused of. Disgust slithers in my stomach as I remember the desire that coursed through me, is still coursing through me, but no matter how much I try to push it away, it’s still fucking there.

I’m going to burn in hell and deserve every minute of it for wanting something I should never want. For taking something that was never mine to have. I’m going to make sure Theo is right there with me too.

My blunt nails bite into my palms as I think about the damage I wanted to deliver to his fucking face. I waited until I knew Aria wasn’t with him before landing two good punches, but it wasn’t nearly enough. The only thing that stopped me from exacting vengeance on Jules’s behalf was sensing her approach from behind me. I didn’t want her to see that side of me, because I seriously doubted my ability to stop once I really got started. Images of him on top of Jules, forcing himself on her, played over and over in my head until it nearly blinded me with rage.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I get up from the bed. Feeling like a perverted asshole, I still make my way out of my room and stop at the door partially opened next to mine. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find the door closed and locked. I know I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do, but there’s no way I’ll be getting any sleep tonight without checking to make sure she’s okay.

I gently push the door the rest of the way open and my eyes alight on her sleeping form. Even in the dark, her gorgeous, thick, brown hair shines, tempting me to r

un my fingers through the soft strands. Her back is facing me as I slowly walk up to the bed. I miss sitting with her as she sleeps. I miss watching the rise and fall of her chest. I miss being able to run my eyes over her delicate flesh without fear of freaking her out. I could look at her all fucking day long and it wouldn’t be enough.

I ache with the need to crawl into bed with her. Not in a carnal way, although that’s something I’m trying my best to ignore, but to simply hold her. Just to have her back pressed to my chest, my arms around her waist, and my face buried in her hair, breathing her in.

When she releases a sigh and her legs move in her sleep, I freeze in place. The last thing that needs to happen is for her to catch me watching her as she sleeps. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes when her wildflower sent assails me, then take several steps backward until I’m standing in the doorway. I watch her for a couple more minutes before reaching for the doorknob and closing the door back to where it was before.

Instead of going back to bed, I head toward the kitchen and the bottle of cheap whiskey I have in the cabinet above the fridge. I forego using a glass and tip the bottle to my lips. I grit my teeth as the liquid burns my throat. It mingles with the burning in my chest that I’ve felt for the last several hours.

A quarter of the bottle is gone by the time I put it back in the cabinet, but thankfully the incessant need to go back to Jules’s room has waned slightly. My steps are measured, and I purposely don’t look at the door beside mine as I pass by it. I whip off my T-shirt as I make my way to bed. Slipping on a pair of sweatpants in case Jules needs me throughout the night, I crawl in bed.

I’M BEHIND THE FRONT counter at Ink Me looking over the appointment book. Dale, one of the artists working for Dad and a long-time friend of his, is talking to Jerry at the other counter about finishing up the big-ass skull tattoo that’ll cover his entire back. I glance up when the bell over the door jingles, thinking it’s my next client. A short brunette dressed in designer jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater walks in, looking too young and innocent to be in a place like this. Excitement mars her pretty face as her eyes immediately light on the wall full of sketches my dad and I have done.