Broken Bond by C.J. Primer

39

VANESSA

My fingertips ghost over the delicate lines of the drawing in my lap, in awe of the painstaking detail that went into every stroke of the pencil to create it. It’s a

depiction of me- like every other sketch in this book- and in this one, my eyes are the

main feature, crinkled at the edges, a

giveaway that I’m smiling even though my fists are tucked in front of my mouth to hide it. My hair frames my face in loose waves,

every strand etched with such precision that

you can see the movement in the drawing like it’s captured a moment in time.

Callum is so freaking talented, and something hot burns in my chest every time I look through these drawings, his love poured onto every page. It’s a heady feeling, being his muse. Being the subject of his art, the object of his affection. It’s immense and

overwhelming. Nobody sees me like Callum Conway does.

The sound of a key turning in the lock of his apartment door yanks me out of the trance I’m in, and I jerk my head up, looking

toward the door as Cal lets himself in. He

freezes in the threshold when he sees me seated on his couch, exhaustion and uncertainty written all over his face.

That’s not the only thing on his face. I’m just as taken aback by the sight of him; not because I wasn’t expecting him to return home, but because he’s covered in blood. Crimson lines track down his face, dripping from his saturated hair. His grey t-shirt is splattered and soaked through, and blood coats his tattooed forearms and cakes his knuckles.

“What are you doing here?” Callum asks tentatively, still hovering in the doorway.

I quickly bring myself back from the momentary shock of his appearance,

flipping the sketchbook closed and holding it close to my chest as I rise to my feet.

“Your neighbor let me in with her spare key,” I provide. “She was pretty cranky about it and definitely skeptical that I was your girlfriend. I had to sweet talk her and show her these to prove it.” I hold out the sketchbook to indicate before stooping to slide it onto the surface of the coffee table.

The corner of Cal’s mouth ticks up. “Mrs. Donnelly,” he breathes, his shoulders. sagging as he takes a step inside and swings. the door closed behind him. “She’s a mean old bitch, but she’s a real gem.”

I crack a smile at the accuracy of his description. She had some choice words to describe Cal as well, but despite their barbs, it’s clear that they share affection for one another.

He takes another step further into the apartment, and I suppress a gasp when the light hits him and further illuminates his

macabre appearance.

“Is it done?” I ask quietly, even though the answer to that question is written in red all

over his skin. After Vee filled me in on all the

details of what went down this morning with Troy, I came straight here, knowing I

wanted to be here for Cal when he returned.

Knowing he’d need me.

He nods solemnly, grinding to a halt rather than continuing into the living room to join me. “I… I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he grits out, avoiding eye contact and staring down at his bloody palms.

My bare feet pad against the floo

as I make

my way closer, stepping right up in front of him and reaching up to cup his bloody jaw, ignoring the mess in favor of the man.

underneath it. “You don’t have to hide from

me,” I say gently.

up to meet mine, the look in them haunted. “I’m a monster,” he

insist, moving

to allow him to

thumb, the sticky blood on his face smearing beneath it.

lifts my

onto my skin.

his eyes meet mine again. “If you’re a monster, then you’re my

but it doesn’t deter me from

kiss.

lips begin to move against mine, his arms. banding around my waist tightly to anchor me. Or maybe to anchor himself. The kiss is

and cautious,

put all my intention behind it, reassuring him that

not going

(3)

we break the kiss, and when I stare into his eyes, the soul- shattering vulnerability in his gaze nearly brings me to my knees. It’s like he’s stripping himself bare for me, letting me see every part of him- the frayed edges, the jagged, broken pieces, the scars of his past trauma. Above all, though, I

The talented artist. The tender lover. I

of good and bad, ugly and beautiful. All of it makes him who he is, and I wouldn’t want him any

get you in the shower,”

hand and tugging

toward his bedroom.

help him peel off his blood-soaked clothes. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his gaze intently focused on me as the room begins to fill with steam. I undress after him, neither of us saying a word as we step into the shower together and I guide him underneath the stream of water, my fingertips tracing the contours of his body reverently as the shower washes

made it hurt,” I murmur as I squeeze a glob of shampoo onto

makes the bubbles turn pink

up, massaging his scalp

his arms winding around my

he relaxes

the stream from the showerhead to wash out the shampoo.

his eyes, his blue-green gaze colliding with mine. “Probably wishes he was right

arch a

lips, the first real sign of a

in

wrong to find satisfaction in someone else’s misery- but I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “The basement?”

his fingertips idly tracing circles on the skin of my lower back. “Uh huh. He’ll stay there for three days,

for his transgressions.”

a washcloth and squeezing body wash onto it. I work it into a

mom’s going with him,” Cal mutters as I scrub

in. Sounds like Spence

3

a shot at building a relationship,”

we can coexist.”

under the stream to rinse it, wringing out the pink- tinged water to splash at our feet. “So if Troy’s locked away…

finger underneath my chin, tipping my face up to his. “He threatened you,” he states coldly, the silver of his wolf

picks up speed as a smile creeps across my lips. “So I’m again?”

ur girl

slapping against his. “You’ve always

chasing his, and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, my

a loud pop, pinning me against him as he stares down into my eyes intently. “I love you, Ness,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to

We’ve finally put the ghosts of the past to bed, and now we can just… be. We can move forward. Together. 2

drawing a short gasp when I feel the twitch of his

slick, naked bodies obviously have other ideas. The persistent thrum between my thighs is getting hard to

to my knees

his lower lip on a wince as I

growls, his gaze turning molten. “You don’t have to…” His voice trails off into a guttural groan as I slide the head of his dick past

him in as far as I can, the head of his cock bumping the back of my throat before I slide back, guiding my movements with my hand wrapped firmly around his base. He groans louder as I start moving up and

steady thrusts, perfectly in sync. with the bob of my head. The way he starts to unravel only boosts my enthusiasm – I start to move faster, relaxing my throat and taking him deeper, slurping and licking and sucking until I feel his thighs begin to tremble. He’s right on the edge, but then suddenly he’s pulling out of my mouth, yanking me to my feet and

is clouded with lust, desire

against the shower wall. I slap my palms up against the tile to brace myself while he angles my hips, and then in one powerful thrust, he slams home, a ragged

as he grips my hips tighter and starts to pump in and out, setting a punishing

I babble, his pelvis

up my waist, winding around my front to cup my breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he continues to hammer into me. I hiss in

of pleasure straight to my