Rebirth (RAW Family 3)

My heart jolted. Was I ready for that? I didn’t know.

“Turned myself into the cops.”

“What?” I asked, completely stunned.

He snuffled out a laugh. “I know. Me, working with the authorities. What the fuck, right? Worked with the FBI a while, and if I delivered what I promised, I earned complete immunity and got to come back to you. That was the deal.” He paused. “I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. I was arrogant, thinking I’d wrap shit up within a year.” He scoffed. “The first year was the hardest. I got nowhere fast. No leads, no resources. The only two people who knew I was alive were the two people who helped me become dead. Slept on the street, stole what I needed, and lived off garbage at one point. Sometimes I’d throw a shit-fit and give up, plan on staying dead. But...” He closed his eyes then peered at me tiredly. “I’m selfish, baby. Needed to be with my son. Needed to come home to you.”

He leaned back on the step, resting on his elbows, looking out into the yard. “No one was taking your crown. Not on my watch. I forged you a throne, angel, and I made it from the bloody, mutilated corpses of every fucker who got in my way, leave you sitting pretty in a pool of blood, wearing a crown of thorns.” He smirked, then his voice filled with reverence. “My queen.”

My stomach clenched. That should not have lit a fire inside me. Jesus Christ, I was a fucking freak.

“No one was getting to you, to my boy. Use my body as a shield. Cut me open. Bleed me dry.” He shook his head slowly. “Not happening.”

I had so many questions. I don’t know why I chose the one I did. “What happened to your tattoo?”

I didn’t need to specify. The iconic 13 I’d come to love no longer graced the apple of his cheek. In its place was a scar. The scar I’d witnessed him receiving at eight years old when we were children, brought together for one short night, destined to meet again as lovers, and although I didn’t know it at the time, I needed him.

He was a fire so hot his flame turned blue. And I wanted to be burned over and over again, smiling through the pain and begging for more.

I was clearly a masochist, but sometimes you needed to bleed to be reminded that you were still alive. And Twitch made me bleed, oozing red warmth until my heart stopped, and every time he killed me, I was revived with a single kiss.

His love was deadly, and I didn’t want the antidote.

Twitch peered at me a long moment. “A little give, a little take. You know how it works, baby. I gave a little, so now it’s your turn. You give me what I want, and I’ll answer your questions.”

Immediately weary, I let out a hushed, “What do you want?”

His voice rough, he named it. “I want you to touch me.”

When I rolled my eyes and moved to stand, his warm hand closed around my wrist, pulling me back down. “Not like that. I mean anywhere. Anywhere you want. Just—” His voice was low, coarse. “—touch me, baby.”

It sounded so innocent, but I knew Twitch, and nothing about him was innocent. To believe he were capable of anything so pure was foolish. But I wanted to touch him.

I inwardly sighed. I loathed that I lived for affection. Something as basic as a simple touch was so important to me. It could convey messages untold, and right now, the need Twitch wore on his fatigued face told me he needed it.

Shuffling over, he waited patiently as I lifted my right hand and brought it to his face, gently cupping his cheek. The moment my fingers came into contact with his warm skin, his eyes closed of their own accord and I watched him take in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, savoring my touch.

The affect I had on him filled me with sudden power, and I reveled in his relaxed state.

Placing my other hand to his neck, I scraped my fingernails over the neatly trimmed scruff, celebrating the way his face wore a look of pure rapture, and spoke quietly, “Tell me.”

He made a sound low in his throat. “It was too obvious a marker. The FBI made me laser it off.” He groaned quietly as my hand slid down to his shoulder, lightly kneading the knot I found, and he spoke through an exhale, “Thought about you every second, every day.”

I wanted to climb into his lap and beg for a single kiss. “Where do we go from here?” Then, even more quietly, “How do we move on?”

His hooded gaze landed on me, and his response was as soft as his whiskey voice would allow. “Very fuckin’ slowly.”

I peered into those soft brown eyes and ran my fingers gently down his jawline. My voice was little over a whisper. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.”

His reply was pure Twitch. “Never asked for it, angel.”

Arrogant ass.

Looking down into his face, I watched him as he watched me, and being with him, right here on my back porch, felt so right that I frowned, disappointed in myself.

That was the problem, I guess. When you looked at somebody through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags? They were just... well... flags. Unassuming. Safe.

But I knew better.

Running my hands through his too-long hair, I tightened my grip in it, pulling back, forcing his head up and loving the way his lip curled in discomfort. I brought my face close to his, slowly, meaningfully, and when our lips were only a hair’s breadth away, I spoke quietly. “You need a haircut.”

Releasing him quickly, I stood and moved toward the sliding door, stopping only when he uttered a perplexed sounding, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

I pursed my lips in thought, tilting my head slightly, and then nodded. “Yep.”

My eyes met his as I locked the door and switched off the kitchen light, leaving him awash in darkness. And to say I was proud of myself was a huge understatement.

Yes.

I was stronger than I gave myself credit.

***

Twitch

A surprised laugh left me as I sat alone on the porch in the dark.

I adjusted myself in my pants and my lip twitched.

She made me crazy. All I wanted to do was hunt her down, bend her over, and drive home, pumping into her sweet pussy until I unloaded inside her.

But I would wait. And that wait would make it all the more sweet.

Chapter Eighteen

Ling

The Cross was having a good night. Music blared as I watched from the closed off balcony, and the second I saw him, my brows lowered.

The fuck was he doing here?

I peered around him, on the lookout. He was alone or, at least, it seemed like he was. Making my way down, I kept my eyes open, anticipating the attack I assumed was coming. But when I saw him sitting alone at the bar, curiosity moved me forward.

My guys were close, watching but keeping their distance, and when one of them stepped forward, I shot him a hard stare. He backed off immediately, and I made my way over, standing behind him, uttering, “What are you doing here, Az?”

He unfolded his long body when he stood. His eyes smiled, and I wanted to gouge them out. “I missed you.”

Fuck him. “You need to leave,” I said firmly. “You’re not welcome here.”

Aslan took a step closer but stilled when I pulled out my gun, aiming it down at his cock. He put his hands up in surrender. “I just came to see how things were going. I know you got a shipment coming. Came to see if you wanted to bury the hatchet. I could help you, Ling.”

He took another step and my stomach ached. He was encroaching, and I didn’t want to hurt him, but I would if I needed to. “Back off, Az.”

“No,” was all he said as he took another small step into me. One more step and we’d be flush against each other.

He was trespassing, violating a code, and my men knew this. I could feel their eyes on me, gauging my next move. Would I allow Aslan Sadik to come into my home and disrespect me in the way he was?

No, I would not.

I couldn’t.