Colour Series Box Set (23 page)

“Lauri if I tell you, you’ll hate me. You will know my darkness and my monster. You’ll be afraid of me all over again and I don’t want that, but I want to tell you because I want you trust me to always tell you the truth. Every number is a life I have taken. Every time I kill someone, they get a number it’s a way to remind myself of who I am. Each one is a life I have cut short, a person’s life I’ve stolen to feed by monster. This one, the red one, that’s you. Well not you, but Ellia.” I tell her but I cannot look her in the eyes as I do. I wait for what seems an eternity before she reacts at all to that I have said. Waiting for her to shove me away, to hate me, to fear me. Her finger traces her number, and then she covers half the heart with her hand and looks into my eyes. Silent tears streak her cheeks. “That’s a lot on numbers Rowan,” her voice cracks, raw with emotion. “I don’t hate you though, I know who you are Rowan, I have since the day you walked in here and told me you were meant to kill me. You’re not those numbers. They’re a part of you but they don’t define you. I might hate that part of you, but the other part. The part of you that was touching me and kissing me, the part however small it is that may love me, that part. I want it, that part is mine. Only mine.” Her words rip me to shreds. I thought for sure she would push me away and hate me when she knew just how much blood was on my hands. She hasn’t moved away andis staring right into my soul right now and I have no idea what to do. She leans up and kisses me again, a short soft kiss. Before I can do or say anything she moves away and whimpers through new tears. “Rowan, I need a bit of time right now to think. Please go. It’s been a long night and my mind and my heart are all over the place I can’t think with you so close to me. Touching me and making feel things I didn’t know existed. I can’t breathe.” I can hear panic in her voice, it back and the magic of the moment has passed. I don’t want to go. I want to hold her and beg her not to hate me. I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t. I grab my shirt, kiss her softly and leave her to think. This heart in my chest is aching and pounding with emotions that I don’t have a clue how to deal with. I need a scotch. Anything to make the feelings stop hurting me, why is it so hard to feel.

If she hates me tomorrow, at least I know I had tonight and I felt her in my arms even if that’s all I get from her ever it was those few moments that changed my life and I know I will never be the man I was a few hours ago.

There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep now. All I can see is her body, I can still smell her on my shirt and god her taste is still on my lips. I’m going to get hurt I just know it. That woman has the power to destroy me right now. She will break me. I go sit outside on the patio and pour myself another scotch in the hope of calming the storm brewing in me. I sit there with my head in my hands and believe it or not I pray. Not that God would listen to a murderer’s plea, but just maybe he will let me have her. I slump back on the lounger and drown out the noise in my head and try to stop my fucking heart from beating so fast. Her lips are burned into my brain and no amount of whiskey will wash it away now.

FOR A FLEETING
moment, I thought just maybe I could have it all, maybe I could feel the things my heart wants to feel for Rowan. I know now the jealousy that coursed through me every time he had a woman in his bed was real. It was real because I want Rowan to be mine, I want to keep him. I know he’s not a pet and that sounds stupid, but I don’t know how to put into words what I want most because I don’t want to want it.

I don’t know why I feel like this, I knew what Rowan did from the day he walked into my room; I knew he was a murderer. So why is it that the truth of his numbers has me feeling so conflicted? There’s so many. I should hate him. I should be afraid of him and I shouldn’t want his hands on me again. Those hands have killed over two hundred people, yes that’s right the numbers in Rowan’s heart go well over the two hundred mark. I know how I should feel, but I don’t. Yes I hate what Rowan does but after living eight years in hell I can honestly say that I would kill Renzo if I saw him now without blinking or feeling. Maybe I’m the same as Rowan on the inside and I just need to let it out. I wish I could actually talk to someone, talking to myself in my head is making this so much worse my head is going to explode any second now. That could be the wine too. I need some sleep so badly, but every time I close my eyes Rowan’s lips are on mine, his hands are ghosting over the pictures that adorn my skin and I know in my heart that’s what I want. I just need to decide if I can love a murderer and can a murderer love me, can he love at all. Can Rowan love me and be a cold-hearted feelingless killer too?

I doze off but my sleep is restless and broken with dreams of Rowan, dreams of my past and dreams of the shattered lives of my children. I toss and turn and try to sleep but it’s useless I can already see the sun starting to rise over the hills around us; I never even closed my curtains last night. My head’s pounding from the wine and too much thinking as I sit up in my bed. I groan out loud as I stand and shuffle towards the shower. I still have nothing on and I stop in front of the mirror and admire the human canvas that I have become. I feel like I’m myself, the real me now that the tattoo is completed. The fresh new work is going to hurt like hell now in the shower but it’s a pain I have learned to love over the last six months the way the sting rips through my skin as the water runs over it. I step into the steaming stream of water in the glass shower and let the water wash away my headache. I let the pain of the tattoo take away everything else and for just a few moments my mind is completely free of the weight that was there before. I wash my thick unruly hair and cleanse my skin carefully, I can still feel every raised bump of my scars but they can’t be seen anymore only I know they are there. I bend my head forward and I pray. Yes I pray to the God that forgot me for eight years. Maybe he can see me now. If he does see me or hear me maybe he will let Rowan love me.

The water runs cold before I get out of the shower and dry myself and my hair. I pin it up with a red head band and slip on a strappy red sun dress. I forgo heels today and instead put on my red chucks. I need food to fix the pounding the wine left in my head and I go to my kitchen. I find it spotless. Rowan obviously cleaned after I asked him to leave last night. The patio door is open and when I step out into the morning air I see him sleeping on the lounger, still in his jeans from last night. His stubble is a little longer and his hair is all over the place but my God he is still so hard not to look at. Rowan is all man, no boy there. The only time you see Rowan the boy is when he gets that naughty grin on his face. I pull my gaze away and return to the kitchen to cook some breakfast; the empty scotch bottle on the floor next to him says he is going to need it more than I do.

I’m almost done cooking breakfast when Rowan stalks through the door from the patio, I’m sure it was the smell of bacon I just put in the pan that woke him. I hand him a cup of strong black coffee over the island and carry on cooking. He takes a sip and then comes around to my side of the kitchen. He puts his mug on the counter and takes the spatula out of my hand before he pulls me into his chest and says “morning beautiful” with that naughty boy grin plastered on his face. He lets me go, still unsure of where we stand after last night, I turn back to my cooking before I answer him. His touch still scares me, wanting it fucking paralyses me with fear. “Morning, you look like shit.” I can’t help but giggle at his very obvious hangover, but also from my nerves bouncing around making me unstable and giddy. “It’s not funny. My head is throbbing and I feel like I am licking sandpaper.” He croaks pulling a face and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Go shower Rowan then you can come and eat a greasy breakfast, which should help a little.” I hand him a bottle of Aspirin. He mouths thank you and retreats down the hall to shower. I go back to cooking but all I can think of is the feel of his hard chest against my body and his arms around me. Even all hungover and disgusting he has me all hot and bothered a feeling I am not sure what to do with. I know I will have to talk to him but I am not ready yet my brain is still working on this. My heart knows what it wants. In fact, I’m pretty sure my heart has wanted Rowan since I was fifteen.

I shake my head and send Callum a text asking if we can go for cupcakes for lunch, hoping some sugar and a chat with him could relieve my sensory overload. He knows the real Rowan and maybe just maybe I can talk to him about last night and sort out what to do with all these feelings. Cal replies almost instantly, I never have to ask twice with him if there is sugar involved. I asked him about the sweet addiction once; he explained that in his world of designer drugs, the temptation was always there so he replaced his need for the bad candy as he calls it with sweets and gym, hence he never gets fat. I thought it was rather clever but still worry he may end up with diabetes the way he consumes anything sweet. We arrange to meet at Charley’s bakery in the city at eleven.

As I’m putting the food onto the plates, Rowan returns in nothing more than his gym shorts. His colourful skin is still damp from the shower and it glistens as he moves around. Every muscle in his body is trained to perfection. I know he keeps his body in such good shape for his work and I know he’ll go upstairs and workout after breakfast and then need another shower. I catch myself staring again, as I look up his smile tells me he caught me too. I hand him a plate and we both go and sit in the sunny dining room to eat our breakfast. The morning sun rolls in through the cottage pains and warms the room making it feel cosy and safe. Even as a child, mornings in here were filled with comfort. I need to talk to him but I don’t know what to say yet, I want to talk to Callum first. How do I say that my heart loves you, but my head won’t let me? “I’m going to Charley’s for lunch with Cal today; do you need anything while I’m out?” I eventually ask breaking the silence with something trivial so I don’t have to face the awkwardness.

“Nope, I have a few things to do down at the estate office this afternoon and I may need a while to recover from last night.” Rowan replies softly. I know we cannot just go back to the way it was before last night too much was shared between us and I’m scared of what that means. I can sense he is just as uneasy this morning he doesn’t quite know how to act. His eyes won’t find mine and his hands are shaking. Rowan has a simple tell. When he is on edge he taps his foot mindlessly. It’s just awkward and uncomfortable and I really wish he had put a shirt on. God what is he trying to kill me for real this time? My eyes have a mind of their own scouring every inch of his skin with new need to know exactly what is written there, the words and pictures conceal the man and the monster below.

We’re both done eating but neither of gets up to move, we just sit and stare at each other, at nothing, out the window, anything at all. I can’t do this much longer my head is already exploding with a hangover from red wine which is lethal and the feelings I don’t know how to feel. I lean forward and touch Rowan’s hand that is gripping the edge of the table so tightly. His gaze snaps up to mine and I see a million questions in his eyes in that second. “I know we can’t rewind Rowan and I know we need to talk about it, I just need a little time. I need to sort out how I feel, please, but for what it’s worth last night was unforgettable. Just give me today, tonight we can talk about it if you still want too? I don’t know how you feel today and I need to sort out how I feel first.”

“Lauri, I have waited this long. I can wait as long as you need. I just don’t know how to go back to not touching you, when that’s all I want to do right now.” He says averting his eyes to where I am still touching his hand, the death grip on the table has increased to stop himself from touching me I know it, he is restraining his desire to touch me because he knows I am afraid.

“You can touch me Rowan. I’m not scared of your touch.” I lie and squeeze his hand before I stand to clear our plates. I’m terrified of his touch and how much I think I want it. As expected, he fled upstairs to the gym at the speed of light. I can hear his heavy footfalls on the treadmill from down here, he seems to run for a very long time today I hear him getting faster and faster pushing himself, I know he is punishing himself.