Zane (Inked Brotherhood Book 3) (9 page)

She winks and saunters to the kitchen.

I shake my head a little, wondering if I’m hallucinating or dreaming. But her sweet scent lingers, and my head hurts too fucking bad for it not to be real. Even weirder, a smile is tugging at my lips. Here I am, feeling as if I’m sinking in quicksand, as if I’m dying, and my face hurts from smiling like an idiot.

“Coffee?” she calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah.” I sit up straighter. “Coffee sounds good.”

That’s when I catch sight of the drawing sitting on top of the pile Dakota has gathered from the couch. My smile slips. I lift the drawing, gripping it so hard the edge of the thick paper is dented.

I’ve never done anything like this before. This is worse than skulls and death. There’s none of the harsh lines and rough cross-hatching I usually use for shadowing.

Soft curves, bare lines.

Shit.
I let the paper drop back on the table and groan out loud.

It’s a portrait of Dakota.

***

“Breakfast’s ready!”

I start.
Emma
, I think blearily. I’m at her house now. I’ll be late for school.

Then my surroundings sink in—the living room, the drawings on the table, the pictures on the walls.
My apartment.

Fuck, I dozed off on my sofa. It still takes me a moment to remember whose voice that is and why she’s making me breakfast.

Large blue eyes, a teasing grin.
‘Where can you find better than me, huh?’

Hell.
I snort. It shouldn’t amuse me so much, but I guess I’m relieved she jokes about it. Probably means she’s not serious about moving in with me, like she’s not serious about the dragon tattoo. She’s a happy person with no need of saving.

No need of me to save her.

And that’s good, that’s fucking awesome, and it lifts a weight off my chest. So it’s odd that, as I stand up with a groan and stagger around the sofa, aiming for the kitchen, I feel a pang in my chest.

She has no fucking need of me at all.

Suck it up, Zane. That’s good. Good for her.

Then I enter the kitchen and lose my train of thought. I just stare. The table is laid with fried eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and coffee.

“Shit. You brought all this with you?” I glance back at her handbag lying on the armchair. “In
that
?”

She giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “They were in your fridge. Don’t you even know what food you have in your house?”

Obviously not. “Erin must have left it.” The smell of the food brings bile to my throat. The kitchen spins slowly, and I grab the back of a chair not to fall.

“But surely you’ve opened the fridge since then… Didn’t you?” She frowns. “Damn, Zane, when was the last time you ate?”

Good question.
“You brought me a chicken salad sandwich the other day.”

“That was days ago. Zane…”

“I ate more stuff.” I sink in the chair and wave a hand back and forth. “Too fucking drunk to think right now, okay?”

I remember eating a ham sandwich the day after, and during the weekend… Did I eat anything? Driving between the house and the hospital, sitting by Emma’s bed, taking care of the kids… I must have. I just can’t remember.

In fact, I don’t remember much from the weekend, and it’s not because of the whiskey. The memories are already fuzzy, covered in haze. My mind tends to erase stressful times. Hell, I’m missing substantial chunks of my childhood. There’s a reason I avoid therapists. I guess I just don’t wanna fucking know what I’ve forgotten.

“Zane?” She’s staring at me with those wide blue eyes.

Crap, I’ve spaced out. I draw the plate of eggs toward me, grab a fork and dig in. “This is good.”

Her cheeks color again. “Does that mean I’ve passed my first test?”

“Test?”

She rolls her eyes. “To be your roommate, of course.”

Of course.
I snort and wash down the eggs with orange juice. “You think it’s that easy?”

“What else do you want?”

Fuck, is that a trick question? I look across the table at her. She sucks her bottom lip between her small, white teeth, and I forget to chew for a second. Breakfast is great, but what I really want is to get down-and-dirty with her, rip her already ripped jeans, shred her T-shirt, lick her everywhere, taste her pussy.

“Nothing,” I lie. I scrub my hands over my face. My head is killing me. “I’m good.”

“So can I move in with you?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll change your mind.” She grins and takes a sip of her coffee. “I want another chance.”

I look down at my plate and drag the bacon closer. She’s teasing me, joking about, and still not a word about the state she found me in, or the fact I didn’t answer Ash’s, Rafe’s or Erin’s calls and texts.

“I was at my sister’s,” I hear myself say and clench my fingers around the fork. “I visit almost every weekend.”

Why the hell am I telling her this?

“Emma is my only family.” The words spill out without my permission. “She took me in. Looked after me. Now she’s sick, and I can’t help her. I try, but in the end, there’s fucking nothing I can do.”

Dakota pales. “I understand—”

“The hell you do. This is all fucked up. I’m fucked up.” I bang my hand on the table, and the fork smashes into the plate. I get up and stumble away.

“Zane, wait.”

I stagger into my bedroom. It’s dark, the curtains drawn over the small window. The air smells stale.

Dakota stands at the door, a hand on the frame. “What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. If she doesn’t walk away, I’ll throw her on my bed and fuck her senseless. If she does walk away, I’ll trash my room and punch the wall until my fingers break.

Nothing’s wrong.

Everything’s wrong.

I need…something. I need her. Her warmth. Her closeness.

Two strides and I’m in front of her. She takes a step back, but she isn’t fast enough. I press my body to hers, slide my fingers into her hair and inhale her scent.

She gulps. “Zane, I just want...”

“If it’s my ink you want, if this is all a damn game to you, forget it.” She’s here. I’m hard for her, and we’re arguing about the damn tattoo. This is familiar territory, and I relax. “I’m not drawing a dragon on you, and that’s final.”

“I want the dragon, you know that,” she whispers, and her hands slide up my chest. “But this isn’t a game, and it’s not all I’m here for. Give me a chance, Zane. Everyone deserves a chance.”

My thoughts are all screwed up. Is she talking about the tattoo, about being my roommate or something else entirely?

“Dammit, girl.” I tug on her hair, pulling her head back, exposing the pale line of her neck. She’s panting, pressing her body to mine, and it’s driving me crazy. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Draw something on me,” she breathes. “Anything.”

I shake my head, confused. What is she playing at? She says it’s no game, but this sure feels like one.

Draw on her again. I should tell her no. That I don’t normally draw on people. That I don’t let them come over unannounced and cook me breakfast, screw with my head. That all I wanna do is fuck her.

My dick twitches, agreeing.

But I can’t. Because if we fuck, she’ll know just how messed up I am. She’ll run, and I’ll take any damn excuse to make her stay a little bit longer.

Dakota

“Another drawing?” Tessa stands at the door of the bedroom, in a tight-fitting black dress and high heels, all dressed up for the party she’s throwing Dylan for his birthday. Her blond hair hangs around her face in soft waves. She’s so pretty I gape at her.

Dylan is an idiot if he doesn’t want her.

Then again, maybe he likes his women a bit more spunky?

I twist and glance at my back in the mirror. I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder black T-shirt with the logo of our band, and the drawing Zane made on my upper arm two days ago is still visible. I’ve taken pains not to scrub it when showering, to keep it on me a while longer. It’s a hawk, wings spread, its beak curved toward the inside of my arm. When I hold my arm close to my body, it’s right over my breast, as if it’s about to bite my—

“Wasn’t it a bird last time, too?”

It was. He likes drawing birds on me—birds in flight.

“So what are you going to wear, the skirt or the pants?” Tessa, obviously fed up with my lack of answers, picks up the items from the pile of clothes on my bed. Black stretch pants and a short black skirt with ruffles. “I’d say the skirt.”

“Why?” I take it from her hands. I’m already wearing ripped black tights. I look tiny next to Tessa and awkward, like a boy. She looks like a supermodel.

“Boys like seeing your legs. And there will be plenty of boys tonight.”

“That wasn’t so subtle,” I mutter. “I mean, I get that you’re worried about Zane breaking my heart, but I’m not interested in boys.”
Just Zane.
“Isn’t he going to be there?”

“He’s been invited, but he never replied. He’s been like that lately. It’s driving Ash nuts. But I’m sure if someone tells him you’ll be there, he’ll come.”

I smile in spite of myself. A rush of warmth fills me. “Do you think Zane would like me in a skirt?”

“Zane likes you in just about anything, girl. He’ll have to be pried off you with tongs if he comes tonight. He’s acting like he’s in heat when he’s around you.”

I laugh. “He’s cute.”
And hot like hell.

“Yeah… I’m worried.” She sits on top of the pile of clothes. “I told you how Zane is with girls. I mean, are you just friends or…” She wiggles her fingers.

I think of how he has always watched me, with such heat in his eyes, and how he made me come on his sofa that night after the disaster at the park. I think of how he let me hold him two days ago, how he spoke of his sick sister, how he asked me if this was all a game to me.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “We aren’t anything. We just hang out together sometimes. I like him.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “We all like him. He’s an awesome guy. But this business of drawing on you, and the way he looks at you…”

So she noticed, too. Heat climbs up my neck. “Like what?”

“Like he wants to lick every inch of your body.”

Oh God.
I clutch the skirt to my middle and sink into the bed beside her. “He’s gorgeous.”

“One hundred percent,” she agrees. “And normally I’d encourage you to jump his bones and have his babies, but this is Zane we’re talking about.” She sighs. “Truth is, I’m worried about him, too.”

“Because of his sister being sick?”

Tessa’s gaze snaps to me. “He told you about that?”

I shrug. “Why, is it a secret?”

“Sort of.” Her gaze hardens. “What else has he told you?”

“Nothing.” I lick my lips, feeling nervous under her scrutiny. “Just that she’s his only family. That she took him in, and looked after him, and now he can’t help her.”

“Oh God, he told you all that?”

“Come on, Tessa, it’s not much. I swear that’s all, and it’s so vague.”

“You don’t understand.” She bites her lip. “You don’t know Zane like I do. You’ve met him only a handful of times.”

“So?”

“So Zane doesn’t open up like that to people he doesn’t know well.”

Yeah, I realized that. “Is that a jab? I’m getting to know him. It takes time.”

“No, I mean he’s letting his defenses down for you. He’s acting weird.”

“So what does it mean?”

“I don’t know. All I know is… This isn’t like him. He’s letting you in. And if you hurt him, that could destroy him.”

***

The bar is dim and noisy. It’s also too warm. The music is a mixture of Latin and pop, and I wince inwardly. Not my kind of thing. But the guys are there, drinking and talking, and I let Tessa lead the way.

Zane isn’t with them. That’s the first thing I notice as we approach their table. Disappointment drapes over me like a leaden blanket. I was really hoping to see him.

“Hey, Dakota.” Ash drags a chair to the table for me. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” I like Ash, especially since he got together with Audrey, and I get to meet him often. He’s a cool guy, quiet and intense, although he smiles a lot more now.

His brother Tyler is there, too, with Erin, and she waves at me. I’ve met their son, the cutest little boy. The way they look at each other makes me shiver. They’re so in love, it’s mind-blowing.

Rafe comes toward us, carrying beers. He slides one in front of me, and I take it without a comment. I don’t have a fake ID, so I’ll take whatever I’m given—at least as far as drinks are concerned. Tessa’s words of warning echo in my head, but I can’t help looking around, still hoping for a certain boy to appear.

“Where’s Dylan?” Tessa asks, scanning the bar as well.

Looks like I’m not the only one disappointed tonight.

“Relax, he’s on his way.” Tyler places his cell phone on the table. “Said he had to run an errand first.”

“He’d better. It’s his birthday we’re celebrating,” Tessa mutters and takes a long swig from her beer.

Whoa.
Looks like I’m the designated driver tonight. Which shouldn’t be a problem, but not seeing Zane here makes me want to get plastered and forget how much I want him. How much I like being with him.

Tessa is right to be worried about me. Even though she told me how Zane treats girls, I haven’t stopped a second to wonder whether I should keep away from him. Not sure I can.

“He’s been acting off lately,” Ash says, sipping his beer. “He said something about his dad being back home.”

“Crap. That’s never good,” Audrey says.

“Who are you talking about? I ask.

“Dylan.” Audrey frowns down at her own beer. It’s still full. “Without his mom, he has to take care of his two brothers, and his dad has mental problems, or so we think. Dylan won’t talk about it.”

“Need to talk about this with Zane,” Ash says, and I turn to look at him, to see if he’s serious.

Tyler is nodding, too.

“Zane isn’t exactly in the right state of mind right now to deal with this.” I look at Tessa for support, but she’s staring at something at the back of the bar and doesn’t seem to hear me. The guys give me skeptical looks.

“Zane’s the strongest of us,” Ash says.