J Roars (5 page)

Was I?

Fuck this.

"Never. You wanna take it to the death, let's do it. I'm prepared to die for her. Are you?"

We both stood there, breathing heavy, anger radiating off us in waves.

"Fuck you. I don't need to trade punches with a killer. You wanna kill me
, homes?
Mátame
. Do it. Do it!" He smacked his chest, the rage palpable between us. The darkness inside of me wanted to sink a bullet in this mother fucker's chest, right where his hand lay. “Do it, kill me, but you'll never get Elle back. She'll never love a monster. So go on, take your shot." He put his arms down and waited for me to make a move.

It was
like I’d been shot. I gripped my chest, Elle's light flickering inside. He was right, and I was on fire, the need to punch something overwhelming. I was a killer, a monster. Shit, but he was telling the truth, and Elle would never want me if I couldn't extinguish the monster that apparently still lingered inside me.

I growled and turned back down the hallway, shovin
g the door to the outside open so hard it came off the hinges. Getting on my bike, it roared to life and I took off, racing towards Elle's house.

I drove like a maniac, a ma
niac begging to get pulled over the whole way. I was so overwhelmed with anger, sadness, helplessness, that I just didn't give a fuck. I parked my bike behind her apartment. As I walked up the sidewalk to the front where her apartment door was, I spotted the Monte Carlo parked out front and sprinted to the door.

"Elle. It's me." I beat on her door with my clenched fist. "Elle. Open up." No answer. I used my key and
was met with an empty apartment. I went though each room, even though I knew she wasn't there. It was still, quiet, only the light above the stove providing illumination.

I went into her room and laid in her bed—full on creeper style. Damn, it smelled like her. I inhaled over and over again, unable to get enough of her unique scent. I knew she didn't use smelly lotions or heavy perfume. It was this stuff she put in her hair. It smelled like flowers. Fuck if I knew which flower, but it was her smell. I would know it anywhere.

I could lie, but fuck it, I cried. I cried like I hadn't cried since I was a boy and Gram had patched my shoulder up. The pain this time was internal, not like a bleeding shoulder. The pain was in a place no amount of stitches could help, it was deep inside me, in the empty, hollow depths of my soul. I needed her. When I said I was prepared to die for her, I had no idea how serious I was, but in that moment, I knew. There was no life for me without her. She'd managed to control me, to devour me with her light and I don't think she had a clue how lost I was without her. How empty my life would be without her light guiding me back from merely existing.

I passed out in her bed, the sun waking me as soon as it made
its morning ascent. As if the new day brought a clear head, I suddenly knew the only other place she could be. I ran out of her apartment, almost forgetting to lock the door. I pulled up at Chris' place, a location I'd discovered during one of my many creeper missions when she got out of the hospital. She had to be there. She wasn't with José, thank God, and I couldn't think of any other place she would go.

I pounded on the door, the sun beating down on my back. I could hear someone moving inside so I pounded again.

She opened the door, shielding her eyes from the bright sun and yelled, "Who the fuck is it and what the fuck do you want?”

Damn, she had on a tank top and panties. I was speechless, caught off guard by
her naked legs I'd imagined wrapped around me for the past three weeks I'd been away in a dustbowl. I saw the moment her eyes adjusted to the light and she recognized me. Even if I hadn't seen it in her eyes, her mouth let me know. "What do you want?"

What did I want?
You
, I wanted to say.
I want you, and nothing else
. That would have probably gone over much better than what actually came out of my mouth.

“I saw you with José last night.”

Thankfully she didn't respond to the bullshit that I said, and instead motioned me inside. I followed her to the kitchen.

"Are you going to say anything?" Damn, could anything right come out of my fucking mouth?

“You showed up on my doorstep. Well, Chris’ doorstep. Say what you gotta say.” She was staring at the coffee pot, her back to me, refusing to look at me.

She was right. I was the one who busted up in her friends house, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. It was as if there was so much I wanted to say that I couldn't seem to put together a coherent thought, and bullshit just kept coming out of my mouth. My
hand snaked it's way to Gramps, as if clutching the scarred shoulder Gram tended to, that I'd since covered in Gramps' eagle, would magically give me the right words to say. It didn't work, not at all.

“You were out with José Saldón last night.”

“Is that his last name?” Christ, she didn't know his last name. Did she know he was a Delmarco?

“You’re not safe with him.”

“But I’m safe with you?” Fuck, she hit the nail on the head. She wasn't safe with me. That didn't mean I wanted her to be with José, so of course I changed the subject.

“I’m leaving, Elle.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I mean I’m really leaving. It’s do or die time.”

“So do.” She sounded so lost, as lost as I was. All the pain I felt the night before while I laid in her bed was filling her voice. She was just as hollow as me, and I knew I was to blame. I knew José could keep her safer than me, but I refused to give her up. Fuck, I felt the urge to break down like a bitch again. I held in silent cries. I moved closer to her, my front not quite touching her back. I bit my tongue to hold back the tears threatening to fall until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.  I quietly pulled myself together the best I could, and spoke words from my heart, the one that was breaking, shattering.

“Please, baby. Please. I need you. I love you. I can’t go into this without knowing you’ll be here when I return.”

She finally turned to me, and the words I longed to hear filled my ears.

"I love the fuck out of you, no matter how much I try to stop."

Her next words, though, gutted me.

"I don't want you to die."

She fell into my arms and I held her tight, probably too tight. She was afraid of me dying. She didn't want to be without me. Is that what she was saying? She tried to pull away, but I refused to let her go. I never wanted to let her go again. I wanted to suspend time and keep her locked in my arms for eternity. I told her so much, continuing to keep her close as I told her all I wanted in this life was her, every morning, every night, and every moment in between. I was waging this war for her, to be with her, to bathe in her light and try and offer her as much as I had in me to give.

“I never asked you to wage war on my behalf.”

“It doesn’t matter if you asked, Elle, my sun. Baby," I plead with her. "You blew into my life all ablaze. You act cool and subtle, but you’ve shown me the fire underneath. I’m addicted to your heat, and I don’t want to live if I can’t have your light shining down upon me. Baby, please, tell me you feel something. Anything.”

I waited, holding my breath, afraid of what she'd say next. Would she wait? Did she love me like I loved her, with every atom that made up my body and mind, and whatever it was that made up my soul?
She whispered something under her breath. What was it? Damnit, she couldn't give up! Not yet, not now, not before I had a chance to right my wrongs and be the man she needed, not the beast I'd been forced to become.

"Damnit, J. You have me. You fucking have me.”

I wanted to get on my knees and thank the universe, thank Gramps, thank whatever force was out there keeping this woman, this beacon of light, from giving up on me. I wasn't able to get to my knees, though, as Elle had other plans. Much better plans. God bless this woman and her ability to take charge, because that's exactly what she did.

We went from desperate and falling apart to frantic, lust filled pleas and ripping clothes off.
She begged me not to die, and I promised to always come back to her. It didn't matter that I had no way of knowing if I would live. I knew that I
had
to live, because there was no way I was going to miss my shot at spending the next fifty or so years with this woman.

We moved to the arm of the couch, and it wasn't lost on me that we were at Chris' house
. I was unsure where Chris was, and what exactly transpired the previous night at Aquario. In those moments, though, it didn't matter, and as usual, Elle allowed me to take charge and finish what she started. I pounded into her like a desperate man, like one who was afraid he'd never see the woman he loved again. I could feel her starting to lose it, her pussy pulsing around my cock as I drove it deeper into her. She leaned back, and I took the opportunity to push her to the couch, holding my body weight off of her as I thrust into her, a new angle providing a new sensation.

It was what she needed as her back barely touched the couch and she was detonating around me, her sweet
, sweet juices gushing around my cock, making it slide in and out so much smoother. That alone had me racing towards the finish line, my body in full control, but it was her words that pushed me over the edge and had me exploding into her.

“I love you, J. I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you. My heart belongs to you, and no one else.”

Fuck, her words broke me, shattered me, but in the most beautiful way. Those were the words I'd been begging her for. Knowing she'd be here when I got back,
when
not
if
, made me convinced there was no other option but success, to defeat Burns, to take back Ratchet's MM, and to spent the rest of my days buried deep inside the arms, mind, and pussy of this woman.

Elle was in a full on sex haze, and I found myself supremely sated, so I began to pull out, thinking Chris could walk in any minute from wherever the hell she was.

"Not yet." Elle whispered it like she couldn't catch her breath.

Now, I'm a man, and a woman begging me
to not pull out, and doing it breathlessly, was like giving me the gold medal of fucking. Yes, I loved her. Yes, we'd made a version of love—an intense, heated, gritty version of love, but the medal wouldn't say
King of Making Love
. Of course not. It'd say
This Man is the Master of Fucking Women Senseless
. With her head held in my hands, I smiled and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and every inch of her face I could reach. I loved every inch of her with every inch of me. I didn't want to let her go, I wanted to suspend time. I wanted to go to another realm where only Elle and I existed and we could lay wrapped in one another, laughing and smiling for eternity. I would have settled for ten more minutes though.

"Shit. Ah—fuck." Chris. Of course Chris had to show up while my ass was in the air and my cock still in
Elle. Of course.Wwhat kind of world would it be if Chris didn't interrupt the most sublime moment I might have ever experienced? A fair world, it would have been a fair fucking world, but the world, like life, isn't fair.

Elle got rid of
Chris, who retreated to her bedroom, then dropped the ultimate mood killer on me. "Fuck, you gotta go."

Shit. My heart broke. The love we'd made had pieced it back together, only to have her dismiss me and shatter it all over again. How many times could a heart melt or shatter, because I was sure I was swiftly approaching my quota. I eased out of Elle, still gripping the smooth creamy skin of her thighs. She pushed off of me and got up from the couch.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said, tears threatening to fall, “but if you don’t leave now—just go. Do what you gotta do so you can come back to me.”

I wanted to reach out to her, take her in my arms, and tell her there was no need for tears, that I'd be back and we'd be together. I was about to put my hand out to her
, but she scurried off to the bathroom, leaving me to get dressed alone. I could have been embarrassed, though I was too sad, too dejected to care about wandering into Chris' kitchen to scrounge for a towel. I found a stack of fast food napkins next to Elle's purse and used them to clean up. I was about to wipe her scent off me when I made a split second decision. If I couldn't have her, I'd go back to carrying her around. I found my pants and pulled my black bandanna out of it, wiping every drop of Elle off my cock before carefully folding the bandanna up like it carried diamonds—which it did for me. I slipped my pants on, the bandanna still in my hand. I wasn't ready to put it away just yet.

Elle came back into the living room and I tossed her panties and tank top to her.
I wanted to sniff the bandanna like an idiot, but thought better of it, instead shoving it in my pocket and pulling my shirt on. Elle found her pants and we dressed in silence. I watched her move, memorizing each inch of her, from her golden mane to her slender toes. I felt like a soldier going to war, like I was saying goodbye to my woman, unsure of when I'd return. I was determined, like all soldiers I'm sure, to come back to her in one piece so we could resume our lives. How many soldiers never came back?