Page 11 of Desecrated Saints
“I’m far from me. I don’t know what’s left, after everything…” Her voice trails off. “He didn’t leave me with much. I’m just grateful to be alive, I suppose.”
“It’s ironic, don’t you think?”
“What is?” Brooklyn sighs.
“A year ago, would you have thought you’d ever be grateful to be alive?”
She surprises me with a chuckle. “I suppose not. If you’re trying some gratitude therapy, I’d advise you to give up. I’m never gonna be grateful for all we’ve suffered.”
“Neither am I. But we’re alive, Brooke. That’s something.”
“You’re right. It’s something.”
Scribbling a note for the others, we head for the Jeep that Mum left for us to use. Brooklyn hops into the passenger seat and I fire up the engine, pulling out onto the forest-lined dirt track that leads back to civilisation. We travel in comfortable silence, both lost in our thoughts.
By the time we reach the quaint, cobbled streets of the nearest Scottish town an hour later, the sun has risen. I can hear Brooklyn’s stomach rumbling from here. We’ll both be chewed out for leaving when we return, so I’m going to make the most of this moment.
“Wanna get breakfast?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“I thought we were keeping a low profile.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. How long has it been since you were out in the real world, unsupervised? The Christmas trip doesn’t count.”
Brooklyn studies her bruised knuckles. “Two years, I guess. I can’t remember, it’s been so long.”
“Exactly. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, Kade. Anything.”
“You have a choice for the first time in your life. We can do anything, be anything.” Pulling into a parking space, I face her sad smile. “Come on, love. There must be something.”
Biting her lip, Brooklyn nods to herself.
“I want to cut my hair.”
“Your hair?”
“It’s too long. I hate it. When I look in the mirror, I don’t want to recognise the person looking back at me. I want to be someone else.”
“That can be arranged, but I happen to like who you are.”
I draw her lips to mine in a gentle kiss. Brooklyn reciprocates, her tongue sliding into my mouth, reclaiming my damned soul for her own. I’d forgotten what she tastes like, hatred and rage in a softened shell. The kiss deepens, and she grabs a handful of my t-shirt, seeking more contact.
To hell with it.
I grab her by the hips and drag her over the console, uncaring about the public street around us. It’s deserted at this hour. Straddling my lap, her delicious weight presses against my erection. I surrender control to her frantic lips, content to lose myself. All that exists is the feel of her skin on mine.
“Kade,” Brooklyn breathes.
“Yeah?”
“I need you, right now.”
I brush my nose against hers. “We’re in a car park.”
“Nothing makes any sense. I can’t look at the others without feeling like the worst person on the planet.” Her eyes scour over me. “I need to know why I’m here, and not six feet under.”
Skating my hands under Hudson’s t-shirt, I find her bare breasts. Underwear is on the long list of essentials to buy, but I’m not complaining. Her nipples are rock hard and begging to be touched.