CHAPTER ONE
Meagan
The words echoed in the silence.
He ain’t wrong.
I read the tattoos off Vaughn’s chest, the cryptic numbers and the pointed crosses, now full of new blurry meaning.
Vaughn watched me, silent, as if waiting for me to make sense of the jumble he had created – as if that was my job. That made me angrier than anything else.
My arm stiffened, ready to lash out on his cheek, but Darryl’s impatience beat mine out.
“Fucking trash,” he growled. He whirled Vaughn out from in between us, back on the floor. Vaughn staggered back, his long arms out for balance. He managed to stay standing, but Darryl was already plunging towards him, fist pulled back.
“Darryl, no!” My hand landed on his curled hand, a ribbon holding back a piston. His muscles seized. The two men stood huffing at each other.
I took the second to whisk my panties back on, but by then Vaughn was stepping in, a cloud of rage over his face. I dashed around my brother and got in the way of his arm.
“Vaughn, what the fuck?!” I screamed with all the force I had intended for him earlier.
He blinked a couple times at me. His eyes lightened. “He started it,” he muttered finally.
“No. You did.”
I shoved a palm in his chest, but it did nothing to budge it. I felt the crack between the vast and familiar ridges of muscle, and a strange burst of heat overcame me even amidst all my anger.
Sweet Jesus, had it even been a minute since this touch would have taken the two of us somewhere else? What was happening now?
“I didn’t do anything but treat you right,” Vaughn said.
“Does that matter? You just admitted what you are.”
His defiant look didn’t go away, but it couldn’t meet me anymore. “I ain’t just that.”
Darryl tensed at my back. “Oh no, shithead? You ain’t the marks you fucking choose to put on your skin?”
“I am.” Vaughn glared over at him. “I can choose to be more.”
“What about me?” I said. My rage burned out and my voice fell towards sadness. “Can I choose to be more than my skin?”
Vaughn staggered back as if my words had hit him. His eyes swam over my body, over the large expanses of dark skin still on display past my lingerie.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s not about you.”
He couldn’t lift his head at me - at either of us. His face had a twisted look as he searched the hardwood floor. Despite it all, the sight of him like that made my heart ache. I wanted to rush in, to help. Not being able to, somehow made me sadder than the reason why I shouldn’t.
“Vaughn.”
He looked up at my voice, poring over my face as he had over the floor, still searching for answers.
“You are what you are,” I said. “And I am what I am.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step towards me. “I didn’t-“
Darryl condensed back to granite behind me. “Not another fucking inch,” he growled.
Vaughn froze, looked from him to me, as if I were his absolution. His bare white chest glowed in the warm room light, the ink looming out dark and angry, all the sharp edges of it bright and distinct.
I shook my head. “You need to go.”
He stood blank, licking his lips. Bit by bit, the spark behind those pale eyes dimmed out. He held up a hand.
“Give me my clothes then.”
Darryl sent them howling over my head, aimed at Vaughn’s feet, but he scooped them out of the air. Still facing us, he slid into his jeans and tugged his dingy white top over the chest that had broken us. The leaves rustled outside, long and impatient, and inside we just took deep pulls of breath and observed each other.
He nudged his jacket on over his shoulders and zipped it up. The white skull gleamed out at me, chattering with amusement.
“Storm’s Soldiers,” Darryl read over my shoulders. “Real fucking subtle.”
Subtle enough to trick me, but I saw the truth now: Storm’s soldiers. SS. It had all been there in front of me.
“It is what it is,” Vaughn said. “Sorry it couldn’t
Meagan
The words echoed in the silence.
He ain’t wrong.
I read the tattoos off Vaughn’s chest, the cryptic numbers and the pointed crosses, now full of new blurry meaning.
Vaughn watched me, silent, as if waiting for me to make sense of the jumble he had created – as if that was my job. That made me angrier than anything else.
My arm stiffened, ready to lash out on his cheek, but Darryl’s impatience beat mine out.
“Fucking trash,” he growled. He whirled Vaughn out from in between us, back on the floor. Vaughn staggered back, his long arms out for balance. He managed to stay standing, but Darryl was already plunging towards him, fist pulled back.
“Darryl, no!” My hand landed on his curled hand, a ribbon holding back a piston. His muscles seized. The two men stood huffing at each other.
I took the second to whisk my panties back on, but by then Vaughn was stepping in, a cloud of rage over his face. I dashed around my brother and got in the way of his arm.
“Vaughn, what the fuck?!” I screamed with all the force I had intended for him earlier.
He blinked a couple times at me. His eyes lightened. “He started it,” he muttered finally.
“No. You did.”
I shoved a palm in his chest, but it did nothing to budge it. I felt the crack between the vast and familiar ridges of muscle, and a strange burst of heat overcame me even amidst all my anger.
Sweet Jesus, had it even been a minute since this touch would have taken the two of us somewhere else? What was happening now?
“I didn’t do anything but treat you right,” Vaughn said.
“Does that matter? You just admitted what you are.”
His defiant look didn’t go away, but it couldn’t meet me anymore. “I ain’t just that.”
Darryl tensed at my back. “Oh no, shithead? You ain’t the marks you fucking choose to put on your skin?”
“I am.” Vaughn glared over at him. “I can choose to be more.”
“What about me?” I said. My rage burned out and my voice fell towards sadness. “Can I choose to be more than my skin?”
Vaughn staggered back as if my words had hit him. His eyes swam over my body, over the large expanses of dark skin still on display past my lingerie.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s not about you.”
He couldn’t lift his head at me - at either of us. His face had a twisted look as he searched the hardwood floor. Despite it all, the sight of him like that made my heart ache. I wanted to rush in, to help. Not being able to, somehow made me sadder than the reason why I shouldn’t.
“Vaughn.”
He looked up at my voice, poring over my face as he had over the floor, still searching for answers.
“You are what you are,” I said. “And I am what I am.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step towards me. “I didn’t-“
Darryl condensed back to granite behind me. “Not another fucking inch,” he growled.
Vaughn froze, looked from him to me, as if I were his absolution. His bare white chest glowed in the warm room light, the ink looming out dark and angry, all the sharp edges of it bright and distinct.
I shook my head. “You need to go.”
He stood blank, licking his lips. Bit by bit, the spark behind those pale eyes dimmed out. He held up a hand.
“Give me my clothes then.”
Darryl sent them howling over my head, aimed at Vaughn’s feet, but he scooped them out of the air. Still facing us, he slid into his jeans and tugged his dingy white top over the chest that had broken us. The leaves rustled outside, long and impatient, and inside we just took deep pulls of breath and observed each other.
He nudged his jacket on over his shoulders and zipped it up. The white skull gleamed out at me, chattering with amusement.
“Storm’s Soldiers,” Darryl read over my shoulders. “Real fucking subtle.”
Subtle enough to trick me, but I saw the truth now: Storm’s soldiers. SS. It had all been there in front of me.
“It is what it is,” Vaughn said. “Sorry it couldn’t
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