Lethal (The Disciples 1)

Complete bliss takes over my body and I sigh. The hot water pelts down on me, and even my throbbing wound can’t make me not enjoy this. The delicious water caresses my skin. It feels so clean. Maybe this place has a different water source. The faucet is a giant circle spouting water that looks like rain. Touching the rock walls that tile his shower, I turn to let the hot water pelt my back. I mean, there’s no other way to describe it. Each tile is blueish gray, like rocks in a cave or something. I close my eyes and enjoy this moment because this could all go away so fast.

Reaching for some shampoo, I see that he has only AXE shampoo for men sitting in the large hollowed-out space of the rock wall. This spot could hold all kinds of things: shower gels, nice shampoos, high-end conditioners. I love all that stuff. It’s my go-to shoplifting priority.

I pick up a green bar of soap and smell it: Irish Spring. That’s weird. He can’t be married. There is nothing at all that indicates a woman lives in his room. Except that it’s super clean. Housework was never my strong suit, and since my dad and Benny were pigs, I got sick of being their maid.

Benny. My heart does a painful thud as I think about my brother. I blame that freak Paul for everything. Benny never would have ended up hooked on drugs if Paul hadn’t arrived on the scene.

I turn off the shower, reluctantly step out, and wrap myself in a black fluffy towel. Yeah, he can’t be married. What woman would allow black towels? Unless he shares another room with her? Or maybe a house? Who cares. I wince as I gently pat my wound dry. It feels bad. And that reminds me that I hate him. He’s the enemy; he took me away. Although as I look around, it’s starting to feel like he rescued me and that’s not an option.BLADE/JASONShe peeks her head out of the bathroom door, her hair brushed off her face, steam billowing around her like fog.

“Um… do you have a T-shirt I could borrow? My clothes are dirty.”

She’s truly beautiful. I’ve seen a lot of women in my life and none compare to her.

“Here.” I pull open a drawer and toss her a white cotton tee. It falls a few feet shy of her feet.

Her eyes dart to it like she’s trying to be a Jedi knight and have the force bring it to her.

Jesus, she’s eighteen and has been a carnival rat since the day she was born. Her shy and innocent act is getting on my nerves. I’m used to women prancing around naked. So her death grip on the towel like it’s a protective blanket is a bit ridiculous.

I almost tell her that she can stare at the T-shirt all night and it’s not going to get any closer, but she straightens her shoulders, steps out, and in one graceful swoop, picks it up. I watch fascinated at how her body movements are a thing of beauty. The more I see her move, the more it becomes a thing for me. The black towel hangs low against the creamy skin of her back. Not one tattoo is on this body. I almost feel guilty for putting my mark on her. Almost.

My hand itches to reach out and jerk that towel free. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been with a woman who has no tattoos. I decide right now that she will never get one. I want to see my tatted hands against her porcelain skin.

The slam of the door pulls me out of it. I blame all these spur-of-the-moment decisions on lack of sleep.

The door opens and she glides out wearing my T-shirt. Her wet long hair hangs down her back and I have to grit my teeth. Full breasts, with tight nipples, make my dick start to wake up. I almost throw her onto the bed.

Clearing my throat, I reach for a pack of smokes. “Tomorrow I’ll have one of the girls take you shopping. Get some clothes and any other girly shit you need.” I light up watching her eyes get big.

“What?” I pull a long drag of nicotine into my lungs.

“I… um, well if you trust me I…”

“I don’t. I’ll have an old lady take you.”

Her eyes widen and she glances around the room. I admire her as I smoke. She moves to the large part of my room. I had a half wall erected in my bedroom, so if I want to watch TV, I can.

She looks up at the ceiling and all around. Her gaze stops on my refrigerator.

“Eve?” She jumps and looks over at me.

“Are you hungry? I can have Amy make you some food. Or there’s food in the fridge if you want it. I’m going to take a shower.”