It Ain't Me, Babe
Page 22
Clearing my throat, I sang out the last of the song.
“…And I think that I just fell in love with you…”
I let the last note hang in the air, our breathing the only other sound, the string humming until the vibrations faded to silence.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Tension built.
Shifting to the side, I placed my guitar beside me, picking up my smoke and finishing it off, stubbing the cherry on the table. She watched, button nose twitching and her tongue licking those f**kin’ fat lips.
Christ.
I moved slightly to try and hide my hard dick. You good, babe? I signed, but her forehead wrinkled with a frown and she shook her head.
Shit!
Sitting forward, my head fell in my hands and I rubbed along the temples. I could do this. I could talk to her again. Shutting my eyes, I tried to focus on working my throat, loosening it up. I reminded myself that I’d talked to her before. I could f**kin’ do this again.
At least I thought I could. But the python wouldn’t let go, and I was close to murdering mad. All these damn years waiting to see the bitch again, and f**k me, I couldn’t speak for shit.
Suddenly, a soft hand landed on mine, and lifting my head, she smiled and said, “You use your hands to talk?”
Fidgeting, I nodded and watched her every move.
“Because you struggle to get the words out?” She stroked her hands down her neck, as if trying to understand why.
I nodded once more.
Her blue eyes flickered between the floor and me until she said, “You spoke to me once before, did you not? Try to again, please. I would very much like to hear your voice.”
I f**kin’ wanted that too.
As I looked into her wolf eyes, I worked my throat loose again, my leg bouncing in agitation, eyes twitching as I played out the words on the tip of my tongue, and with a deep breath, I managed to push out, “Y-y-you h-heard music b-b-before?”
Giving me a huge, relieved smile, she dropped her eyes to the floor, her expression almost shameful. “Yes… only once.”
My f**kin’ palms began to sweat and I ran them down my jeans. Her voice was as tiny as she was, but it was the sweetest damn thing I’d ever heard… and too long in coming. Fifteen f**kin’ years to hear that damn voice again, and apparently, she’d been waiting for mine too.
“Y-y-you g-got a n-name?”
She stilled, eyes shooting up, her breathing all over the f**kin’ place, and intense fear took over her features.
“N-n-not gonna hurt you, r-r-remember? T-t-tell me your n-n-name, b-babe.” I sighed in relief as my words began to come clearer. It was her—fuckin’ number three.
My goddamn miracle.
“Salome,” she said almost inaudibly.
I edged forward, convinced I was f**kin’ hearing things. “Wh-what?”
“Salome,” she hushed out again, swallowing loudly, staring at the exit, then back at me and to the exit again.
She was gonna bolt.
“Y-y-you kn-kn-know where that n-name comes from, b-babe?” I couldn’t disguise the anger in my tone, a red haze fogging up my mind.
Blue eyes darted to anywhere but me, and her head lowered. “Yes. In many writings, it is said she was King Herod’s niece. She demanded John the Baptist’s head for her birthday and danced the dance of seven veils. She is a reminder that women sin and tempt men to do evil things. All women are born sinners—some more than others—and we must be reminded constantly that we are the reason mankind fell from Eden. Born with the original sin of Eve. My name assures that people are always aware of this fact and that I never forget my place in the great order of life.”
What. The. Fuck?
She regurgitated that shit like it had been pounded into her brain, a rote speech. Her eyes lost life, her voice dropped all feeling, and every part of her body tensed. My fists clenched over and over, and I stared unseeing at her face, biting on my tongue to stop me from screaming and hurtling abuse at the f**ker responsible for her spewing brainwashed shit at me.
Rider had to be right. She had to be from some f**ked-up cult, spouting shit robotically like that. Hell, that’s nothing new in Texas. Everyone still remembers Waco like it was yesterday, and there’s plenty of extreme religious f**kers ’round here, talking in tongue and exorcizing demons day in, day out. ’Course, as Hangmen, we know all of these cults, especially the Davidians. My gramps got the gun trading business the poor f**kers lost when they all fried, courtesy of a few friendly shots from the good ol’ ATF.
Gramps made a killin’, took over their turf, extended Hangmen control in Texas.
As my vision snapped back to focus, I heard Salome whimper, cowering slightly, her black robe drowning her tiny body on the seat as she wrapped the excess material round her shaking limbs. Her eyes were huge as she stared at me, pure fear on her face. I edged in her direction, noticing a flinch of her shoulders and a subtle wince around her eyes.
She thought I was gonna hurt her.
I pushed up my palms. “F-f-fuck, b-bitch, I-I-I ain’t g-g-gonna h-hurt you.”
Her head hung in submission. That just pissed me off more, and before I knew it, I yelled, “D-d-don’t b-bow to m-me. L-l-l…” I paused, refocused on my words, and inhaled. “Lift your f-f-fuckin’ head!” I rolled out in one long breath.
On command, her head snapped up, completely obedient, confusion radiating from her rigid body. “Wh-what do you want of me?” she whispered, her teeth chattering, face ashen, her palms now pressed flat to the floor.
I barely heard her question, the blood rushing in my ears almost drowning out her soft tone in her prostrate position. Her entire body was shaking in fear.
Crouching to her height, I assured, “N-n-not you f-f-fuckin’ fl-fl-flinchin’ when I m-move, th-that’d be a d-damn good st-start.” She tilted her head up, regarding me warily, the shaking stopping, her pouting pink lips forming a small, confused O.
Rubbing my hand over my head, I dragged my fingers through my hair. If she was any other bitch, I’d grab her and kiss the f**kin’ life outta her, make her mine, f**k her ’til she knew I wasn’t gonna hurt a damn hair on her head. But she weren’t like other bitches. She was staring at me like I was gonna kick her black and blue, all ’cause I got pissed at her f**kin’ shitty name.
Reaching for the table, I grabbed my smokes, ignoring her flinching and protecting herself with her arms. If I acknowledged it, I’d probably go kill someone; that’s how f**kin’ incensed I was. I pulled a smoke out with my teeth and lit it with the lighter from my pocket. Taking a drag, I closed my eyes, leaning back on the couch, mentally talking myself down off the ledge.
“…And I think that I just fell in love with you…”
I let the last note hang in the air, our breathing the only other sound, the string humming until the vibrations faded to silence.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Tension built.
Shifting to the side, I placed my guitar beside me, picking up my smoke and finishing it off, stubbing the cherry on the table. She watched, button nose twitching and her tongue licking those f**kin’ fat lips.
Christ.
I moved slightly to try and hide my hard dick. You good, babe? I signed, but her forehead wrinkled with a frown and she shook her head.
Shit!
Sitting forward, my head fell in my hands and I rubbed along the temples. I could do this. I could talk to her again. Shutting my eyes, I tried to focus on working my throat, loosening it up. I reminded myself that I’d talked to her before. I could f**kin’ do this again.
At least I thought I could. But the python wouldn’t let go, and I was close to murdering mad. All these damn years waiting to see the bitch again, and f**k me, I couldn’t speak for shit.
Suddenly, a soft hand landed on mine, and lifting my head, she smiled and said, “You use your hands to talk?”
Fidgeting, I nodded and watched her every move.
“Because you struggle to get the words out?” She stroked her hands down her neck, as if trying to understand why.
I nodded once more.
Her blue eyes flickered between the floor and me until she said, “You spoke to me once before, did you not? Try to again, please. I would very much like to hear your voice.”
I f**kin’ wanted that too.
As I looked into her wolf eyes, I worked my throat loose again, my leg bouncing in agitation, eyes twitching as I played out the words on the tip of my tongue, and with a deep breath, I managed to push out, “Y-y-you h-heard music b-b-before?”
Giving me a huge, relieved smile, she dropped her eyes to the floor, her expression almost shameful. “Yes… only once.”
My f**kin’ palms began to sweat and I ran them down my jeans. Her voice was as tiny as she was, but it was the sweetest damn thing I’d ever heard… and too long in coming. Fifteen f**kin’ years to hear that damn voice again, and apparently, she’d been waiting for mine too.
“Y-y-you g-got a n-name?”
She stilled, eyes shooting up, her breathing all over the f**kin’ place, and intense fear took over her features.
“N-n-not gonna hurt you, r-r-remember? T-t-tell me your n-n-name, b-babe.” I sighed in relief as my words began to come clearer. It was her—fuckin’ number three.
My goddamn miracle.
“Salome,” she said almost inaudibly.
I edged forward, convinced I was f**kin’ hearing things. “Wh-what?”
“Salome,” she hushed out again, swallowing loudly, staring at the exit, then back at me and to the exit again.
She was gonna bolt.
“Y-y-you kn-kn-know where that n-name comes from, b-babe?” I couldn’t disguise the anger in my tone, a red haze fogging up my mind.
Blue eyes darted to anywhere but me, and her head lowered. “Yes. In many writings, it is said she was King Herod’s niece. She demanded John the Baptist’s head for her birthday and danced the dance of seven veils. She is a reminder that women sin and tempt men to do evil things. All women are born sinners—some more than others—and we must be reminded constantly that we are the reason mankind fell from Eden. Born with the original sin of Eve. My name assures that people are always aware of this fact and that I never forget my place in the great order of life.”
What. The. Fuck?
She regurgitated that shit like it had been pounded into her brain, a rote speech. Her eyes lost life, her voice dropped all feeling, and every part of her body tensed. My fists clenched over and over, and I stared unseeing at her face, biting on my tongue to stop me from screaming and hurtling abuse at the f**ker responsible for her spewing brainwashed shit at me.
Rider had to be right. She had to be from some f**ked-up cult, spouting shit robotically like that. Hell, that’s nothing new in Texas. Everyone still remembers Waco like it was yesterday, and there’s plenty of extreme religious f**kers ’round here, talking in tongue and exorcizing demons day in, day out. ’Course, as Hangmen, we know all of these cults, especially the Davidians. My gramps got the gun trading business the poor f**kers lost when they all fried, courtesy of a few friendly shots from the good ol’ ATF.
Gramps made a killin’, took over their turf, extended Hangmen control in Texas.
As my vision snapped back to focus, I heard Salome whimper, cowering slightly, her black robe drowning her tiny body on the seat as she wrapped the excess material round her shaking limbs. Her eyes were huge as she stared at me, pure fear on her face. I edged in her direction, noticing a flinch of her shoulders and a subtle wince around her eyes.
She thought I was gonna hurt her.
I pushed up my palms. “F-f-fuck, b-bitch, I-I-I ain’t g-g-gonna h-hurt you.”
Her head hung in submission. That just pissed me off more, and before I knew it, I yelled, “D-d-don’t b-bow to m-me. L-l-l…” I paused, refocused on my words, and inhaled. “Lift your f-f-fuckin’ head!” I rolled out in one long breath.
On command, her head snapped up, completely obedient, confusion radiating from her rigid body. “Wh-what do you want of me?” she whispered, her teeth chattering, face ashen, her palms now pressed flat to the floor.
I barely heard her question, the blood rushing in my ears almost drowning out her soft tone in her prostrate position. Her entire body was shaking in fear.
Crouching to her height, I assured, “N-n-not you f-f-fuckin’ fl-fl-flinchin’ when I m-move, th-that’d be a d-damn good st-start.” She tilted her head up, regarding me warily, the shaking stopping, her pouting pink lips forming a small, confused O.
Rubbing my hand over my head, I dragged my fingers through my hair. If she was any other bitch, I’d grab her and kiss the f**kin’ life outta her, make her mine, f**k her ’til she knew I wasn’t gonna hurt a damn hair on her head. But she weren’t like other bitches. She was staring at me like I was gonna kick her black and blue, all ’cause I got pissed at her f**kin’ shitty name.
Reaching for the table, I grabbed my smokes, ignoring her flinching and protecting herself with her arms. If I acknowledged it, I’d probably go kill someone; that’s how f**kin’ incensed I was. I pulled a smoke out with my teeth and lit it with the lighter from my pocket. Taking a drag, I closed my eyes, leaning back on the couch, mentally talking myself down off the ledge.
