My family’s. My sister’s – identical to mine. I think of my brother’s too; how we all share the same ocean blue. My daddy always said he fell in love with my mom because looking into her eyes felt like he was on vacation. Like he was floating in the Caribbean.
Three babies later, he was surrounded by an entire family of vacation eyes, and we all had his last name.
More eyes; I see Britt. My best friend. My sister. Her baby. Her brother, Alex the cop. I see Kari and her forest green. So kind. So innocent. She’ll marry my brother, and with her green, and his blue, they’ll make something more magical than vacation eyes.
Marcus. Angelo. Scotch. Oz. All the people I love the most, the people who’ll be hurt when they find out what I’ve done. First they’ll hurt, but then they’ll turn angry when they realize I put myself here. They’ll be pissed at me, even in death, they’ll be pissed I was so stupid.
Kane’s; not bright like most of the people I know. His are dark. Almost black. So many secrets. So much anger.
Glittering with something I’ve never seen in my life, not even the other night when he pulled Lance off me, Kane’s eyes now sparkle with a rage I’ve never seen in a pair of eyes before.
The no-named-man’s hair tickles my chin as his tongue laps at my neck. He holds my throat with one hand while the other moves inside my body, but Kane’s eyes – despite the anger – give me something pretty to look at in my final moments on this planet.
From a slow river of gluey mud processing my thoughts, my world snaps back to focus – rapids of blood and sense flood my clouded mind – as the no-named-man’s hand leaves my throat, his blade glancing off my skin with the same stinging pain as a paper cut.
My chest fills with oxygen even without my conscious request – my body takes over and drags precious air past an aching throat – while I watch Kane’s eyes, so full of rage a second ago, close in pain.
Wrapping his arm around the man’s neck, he twists until a sickening crack echoes in the dark alleyway, and as soon as the no-named-man is no longer holding me up, I drop to my feet and stumble on tender ankles. Sinking to my knees when they give way, I come eye-to-eye with the man as he drops to his.
His eyes – always the eyes – watch me as we kneel together, then dead weight, he pitches forward and pins me to the wall.
His almost two-hundred pounds steals the oxygen from my lungs a second time. My heart races and slams painfully against my chest as I struggle to breathe under his weight. With a roar of anger that hurts my ears, Kane picks the man up and tosses him to the side like he was simply a bag of potatoes.
Hooking me under the armpits and pulling me up, Kane’s hands go under my butt, my legs wrap around his naked torso, and my arms choke him the way the no-named-man choked me.
Burying my face in his neck, I release the sorrow that lodged itself in my heart when I thought I would die.
“Come on.” Limping and in pain, Kane carries me through the alleyway toward the street. He presses a hand to the back of my head to keep my eyes down as we pass through the shadows my no-named attacker hid in earlier. “Shhh.” Running rough fingers through my hair when I choke on my air like it’s made of rocks, he massages the back of my neck and soothes my aching heart. “Hold on to me, Jess. I’ve got you. I promise, I’ll keep you safe. You just gotta breathe.”
I wrap my arms so tight around his neck, he probably struggles for breath, but he doesn’t complain. He simply carries me away from the still noisy, still pumping club as more cheers ring through the air as two other men, fresh faced and not yet unconscious, fight in the ring in the center of the great room.
As we move to my car directly across the street, every man who watched me arrive earlier still watches us now, but when Kane turns and meets their eyes, they disappear back into the shadows.
Prying my stiff legs from his injured body, he sets me on my feet, but I leave my arms around his neck; I refuse to release him, refuse to let him leave.
I can’t let him go.
“You got your keys, Blondie?” With his hands on my ribs and our foreheads touching, my teeth chatter with shock as I stare into his eyes.
“Blondie? I need your keys.”
Nodding, Ifeelthe keys digging into my palm, biting my skin, but like I’ve beenpetrified, I can’t release them. I can’t show him.
I can’t even move my arms and let him go.
“Relax.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead and slides his hands along my arms until he reaches my hands. Tugging my strong grasp apart, he brings them between us and pries them open. “Blondie…” Hetsksat the red welts from where my keys dug into my skin, brings my hand up, and presses his bruised lips to my palm.
His kindness brings a brand-new bout of tears to my eyes. I can’t stop crying. I can’t relax. I can’t stop shaking.
Like I’m in a vacuum, I see only small snatches of time. The car door opening. My seatbelt being fastened. Kane’s broad chest taking up my space as he clips the belt in, the door closing and then him moving around my small car at the speed of light – but with a limp. Him climbing in, then smiling in an effort to comfort me, even with a split lip and swollen eye.
My fingers tingle to make his injuries better, but my brain continues working in that vacuum seal; streetlights, parking lot, dumpster. Then I’m back in his arms, legs around his hips, face against his naked chest. Stairs – so many stairs – and he carries me the whole time.
An apartment door.
Pots and pans.
Hot water.
My favorite dress being lifted off my body.
Naked and alone, I drop to the tile floor of this stranger’s shower, and with a palm full of liquid soap, I scrub my vagina until my skin burns and the memory of that man’s fingers no longer exists.