Prompted by: AnRo
I couldn’t tell if it was the bones in my hand or the bones in his goddamn face but something fucking broke.
I felt it.
And then I was suddenly airborne. Being dragged away. Kicking and screaming.
Fuck this bullshit.
“Let go of me!”
Fuck this stupid bullshit.
The forearm clasped across my collarbone like a steel vice?
I bit down on it. Hard.
Not a chance in hell.
My teeth sank in deeper, a metallic tang of copper coating my taste buds.
“Damn it, Iz.” Slick jerked his arm free, the other one tightening around my waist as he growled, “Are you trying to kill him?”
“Is that a trick question?” I hissed back.
An incredulous snort, followed by, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
The next smartass reply was about to roll off my tongue when I realized my brother-in-law was no longer talking to me. He’d turned his attention to my husband instead. Who was making a deliberate gesture with his good hand. Or rather, what appeared to be a string of gestures.
“First of all, I can barely understand the half-assed signing,” Slick muttered wryly, his breath hot against my ear, “and second of all, you almost died protecting her.”
Merely a shrug.
Plus some more gesturing.
“God, you’re such a fucking moron.”
“Hasn’t it cost you enough already?”
A cryptic smile tilted the asshole’s bloody lips…
Taunting me. Daring me. Forcing me to ask, “When?”
I hesitated. “His voice.”
Slick hesitated too. “Three years ago.”
I didn’t really want to know. I couldn’t actually handle the truth. “Was it my fault?”
He stiffened immediately.
That was my answer right there. Yet, for some unknown reason, I still needed somebody to, “Tell me.”
“Just tell me.”
At last, “Yes.”
“It was your fault.”
The room was starting to spin. My words came out in a hushed whisper, “Put me down.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
As soon as my feet hit the floor, I made a beeline for the washroom. Didn’t even have enough time to lift the damn seat before dropping to my knees and emptying the entire contents of my stomach. Which, luckily, wasn’t much.
Afterward, I reached up to flush the toilet. Then slowly rose to my feet, turned around, and walked over to my husband’s bedside.
For only the second time ever, I witnessed confusion in those sinfully dark eyes.
Because I cupped his perfect jaw, ran a gentle thumb over his gorgeous mouth, leaned down to nudge the tip of his nose with mine and…
Kissed him fucking senseless.
He tasted like blood.
I tasted like vomit.
It was disgusting.
It was perfect.
It was toxic.
It was us.
When I finally pulled away, it gutted me.
I didn’t want to pull away. I never wanted to pull away. Not from him. Not ever.
But you rarely get what you want in life.
Life’s a bitch.
A royal fucking bitch.
Grabbing the divorce papers from his lap, I unrolled them and carefully smoothed out the creases.
“I need a pen.”
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.