But Chase is dead.
They don’t know Dragon, nor would I want them to.
Mom remembers me as a good kid who was going places. Sure, I was a mouthy fucker, but she loved me for it anyway. She wouldn’t recognize the tattooed monster I am today. The heartless killer. A man who does what he must to survive. Hollow and used up. Worthless.
“Hey,” Cove says, his voice calm and sweet. “It’s okay.”
Awareness trickles around me as I pull from my memories and find my way back to the present. I’ve somehow scooted down the bed and buried my face against Cove’s chest. My leg is locked around his and my fingers dig into his ribs like he might try to escape my hold at any second. I’m thrumming with a mixture of grief and rage at the unfairness of it all.
Cove’s fingers find my hair and he drags them through it. It’s such a simple, soothing movement, I actually groan in surprise. Blinking hard, I try to shake off the pain that’s shredding me from the inside out. My lashes are wet and my entire body shakes. But, with his fingers in my hair, soothing me, my erratic heart begins to slow.
I’m not Chase.
I’m Dragon.
They’ll never have to meet the beast. Their memory of the boy will forever be kept in their hearts, untainted.
“I wasn’t always a monster,” I admit, my voice a mere whisper. “People used to like me.”
“People liked you? I find that hard to believe.” His wry tone has me smiling. “Want to tell me about them?”
My smile fades. “The people who liked me?”
“Your family.”
“Why?”
“Because I know nothing about you, man. If we’re going to…fuck, then I want to know more about you.”
“So you admit it’ll happen again.”
He sighs heavily. “It was too good not to.”
A long, pregnant pause fills the air. I suck in a breath and then exhale, trying to shake the sadness still gripping my lungs like a vise.
“They were great,” I murmur. “Involved. Loving. Stern when they needed to be. If you looked up the textbook definition of great parents, mine were at the top of the list.”
“And your brothers?”
“Annoying. Especially Kai.” I bark out a laugh. “Not Mitch, though. The baby was everyone’s favorite, including mine.”
“You miss them.”
“They don’t know me anymore. It’s better they think I’m dead.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not Chase anymore. They would hate Dragon. Especially Mom.”
He doesn’t respond, which means he must agree with me. The thought of not being tugged into Mom’s motherly hug because she is afraid of me causes bile to creep up my throat.
“That’s a lie you tell yourself,” he says finally, words barely audible.
“Lies are just another version of the truth.”
I’m no longer interested in discussing my family. Cove has proven to be a distraction and that’s exactly what I need right now. I need him panting and begging. Anything to stop my mind from whirling with possibilities and what-ifs.
What if Mom isn’t afraid of me?
What if they still love me, even like this?
The ridiculousness of it all fucks with my head. Rising frustration builds and builds until it looms over me like a tidal wave of self-loathing threatening to drown me.
Cove’s scent grounds me.
Refocuses me.
Soothes me.
I press my lips to his neck, gently at first, and then suck his soft flesh into my mouth. He lets out a groan that sets me on fire. I’m overwhelmed with the need to paint his neck blue and purple, leaving little reminders of what we did all over his skin.
“Dragon.”
His voice sounds like a plea for me to stop, but it also sounds like a chant for me to go-go-go. I’m ravenous to taste him all over and hungrily nip at his collarbone on my way down his chest. I straddle his waist, loving the feel of his erection throbbing beneath me. My fingers find their way to his new nipple piercings and I tug. He winces, but he bucks his hips up like maybe he likes the pain. I flick them both.
“Ow,” he complains, a seductive grin betraying him.
“You like it.”
He doesn’t argue. There’s no point in denying the way his needs match mine. For all the shit I’ve been dealt in this life, this one thing right now feels pretty fucking good.
“Flip over,” I command. “Now.”
Panic flickers in his blue eyes, but the moment I sit up on my knees, he rolls onto his stomach. His back muscles flex and tighten with each ragged breath he takes. I run my finger down the ridges of his spine until I reach the hint of his ass crack showing above the waistband of his boxers.
“These are coming off.” The rumble in my voice vibrates down my chest and straight to my dick. Every part of me is wired and buzzing for him.
I scoot back so I can pull them off his ass. It’s a nice ass—a perfect bubble of muscle and pale skin. I’m going to bite it and smack it, marking it as mine. He lets out a soft breath when my lips press to the base of his spine. I kiss my way along the crack of his ass, needing to find new parts of him. Smacking his ass cheek, I grin at the irritated growl that comes from him. The skin smarts red from my abuse.