Defying Fate (9 page)

Turning around, I go to stand. “Here, see how the butterflies span my entire back.” I showcase my back by the moonlight coming in the window. Turning slightly to my side so he can see how my butterflies span up my side. It’s quite beautiful. This is my only piece that is truly me. Life imitates art and all.

Braxton instantly sits up and turns on the nightstand light to get a better look. The moon shining through the window did not give him enough light, I guess. Hey, at least the light will let me take in his tattoos better as well. I drink the sight of him in as soon as the light fills the room. Losing myself in his body art, I raise an eyebrow and have to pick up my mouth up off of the floor.

“Izzy,” he says in his sexy voice. “These are hot as hell.” He reaches out to trace them. They start at my right hip and curve around my side and end up on my shoulder. I have no idea what I was thinking at the time, but they are beautiful. Delicate designs with blues, yellows and mostly black.

As his eyes dance across my back, his genuine smile warms my heart. “Alright Sparkplug, let’s continue.”

“I got a tramp stamp; people thought I was, so why disappoint them, right?” I shove my panties down and reveal my lower back tattoo. It’s a tribal design, and it spans from hip to hip dipping low into my ass crack. Yeah, this one hurt like hell. I did it to piss him off, the dick from my past who acted like he owned me. Silly, but I did it, and I paid the price for it as well.

“Holy Fuck! That’s hot babe. Damn, taking you from behind is going to be sexy as hell.” Braxton has to adjust his package between his legs. I smile and give him a wink.

Braxton is just too sexy for words, lying against my headboard in black boxer briefs. Sweet God; I could just eat him up.

Shaking my rear he smirks smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Keep going honey, this show is getting better by the minute. Fuck getting my own little strip tease from my Sparkplug. Life is good.” Clapping his hands together; the excitement radiates from him.

“That’s enough show and tell for one night there big guy,” I say smiling.

With a devil’s grin, I start crawling to meet him in the middle of my bed. Braxton reaches out for me and pulls me to his chest. Our noses touch as he lays his forehead against mine.

“You don’t have to look at me, but you will tell me what happened with those marks you didn’t want. As much as I loved the show, your distraction is not going to make me forget what you told me earlier.”

Closing my eyes, I whisper. “Braxton, I can’t. So much pain and suffering. I left to get away; I don’t want you to know a thing about what I have lived with.” Grabbing his shoulders, I pull him tighter to me. Our foreheads still resting against one another as we stay like this.

“Not moving. So you need to spill it. Part of me getting to know you is finding out about your life. Not a damn thing you can tell me will make me feel any different. Shit happens to all of us. Some good and some downright bad, but that’s life Iz; I know it better than anyone.”

Whispering, I silently beg. “I can’t Braxton, I just need time. Time for me to heal myself, I’m not ready for you to judge me just yet.”

Shaking his head, he blows out a big breath.

“Izzy, my sweet girl you know I would never judge you? I’m no choir boy. I have done shit and seen shit that would make you second guess being in this bed with me, but I have no worries about you judging me. This is who I am; not always proud of the things I did but can’t change the past. Only move forward and do better with what you got.” Holding my hand in his, he is confident and self-assuring. I stare at him in bewilderment.

“Putting it that way makes sense Braxton. Thank you for saying that.” I like the way he just explained that, life can be shitty, and it can be great, like right now in bed with an almost naked, sexy as hell Braxton. Life before with Dominic was horrid and downright terrifying.

I unintentionally start rubbing my left thigh. I did it as if remembering what I have survived; times rather best forgotten.

Watching me, Braxton pulls me to his knees, and I come sliding up the bed flat on my back. He places my knees aside, so I’m straddling his body exposing my thighs. He strokes his fingers and freezes, holding my breath; I know he’s found it. The mark, his mark, the one he said would always remind me of him. Together or not I would always remember him; sick fucking bastard.

“What in holy hell is this?” He pulls me closer to him so he can see the mark more clearly. I always wore long shorts for this reason alone. No one needs to see this ugly ass scar. One of the reasons I don’t spread my legs for just anyone.

Running his fingers over the red, raised mark outlining my scar, he huffs out a breath like he’s been kicked in the gut. His grip is biting into me like a death grip. It’s time to come clean or just give him enough, so he leaves it alone. I think the second option is the way to go for now.

“What the fuck is this, just who the hell did this to you? God dammit Sparkplug. This pisses me off.”

“No need to get pissed Braxton. It happened, and now it’s over. This mark was always meant to remind me of him; he made sure the mark was in a spot that would stop me from wanting ever to sleep with any other man. He got his wish, I’ve never shown anyone; until just now.”

“He as in WHOM? Who the fuck thought this would be okay to do to his girl?” Braxton’s eyes were piercing into my soul with the look he was giving me.

I have to laugh at his reference of ‘his girl'.

“I was only a possession to him, not a girl or his woman; just a person to possess and ruin. The sick part is while everyone liked him; they hated me. They thought he was a nice guy, took good care of the sick, broken and messed up Izzy.”

Braxton is shaking and controlling his breathing as best he can. His muscles are building, and he is starting to shake. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, I am assuming to help settle him down.

“One night, I disobeyed him...” I whisper as tears start to fill my eyes to the point Braxton is beginning to look fuzzy.

He cuts me off.

Braxton’s look is murderous. “WHAT...you disobeyed? Who the fuck does he thinks he is? You're not a dog, Izzy.”

I must look scared because I can feel a shift in his demeanor. He rubs his hand up and down my arm.

“I was not at home when he wanted me to be, I got home thirty minutes later and that was all it took for him to go bat shit crazy on me. He slapped me around; he punched me in the gut and then things got ugly.” Shaking I can now feel the tears as they fall freely down my cheeks.

Nervously, I look into his troubled eyes. My insecurity is at an all-time high. I take a few deep breaths to gain some much-needed courage. “He took a knife and ripped off my shorts. While taking me as roughly as he could, he took a knife and as he got off he pierced my thigh with it. You see, every time he got pissed at me, he took his knife to me somewhere hidden, but, meant for me to see every time I was naked.” Revealing this to Braxton has drained all of my energy.

“Motherfucking twisted bastard. Please tell me you had his ass hauled to jail.” Not even taking a breath in between words he keeps on going. “What about your family, who the hell did you tell?”

Holding my shaking hands up I silently beg him to slow down. “There was no one to tell, only my best friend, Kara. She saved me from taking the same knife and slitting my wrists. Figured might as well take my life with his favorite tool. The sad thing is he would have probably liked that.” Lowering my eyes, I try to wipe the remaining tears that slide down my cheeks. Remembering all the horrible things Dominic said to me, they all come back screaming in my head. I never let myself grieve for the sad girl who just took his beatings, burying it all down deep as I could. It was the only way I survived this long.

Grabbing me tight, he is ‘hushing me’ and rocking me against him. Jesus, when Braxton hugs you, you just get lost in those big ass arms.

“Babe, never again. You don't get to be scared, not anymore. I will never let anyone hurt you honey. Fuck that, I need to know who this guy is; Iz you need to let me kick his ass for you. This fucker needs to feel my pain, let me show him what it means to put the fear of God into someone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I need a damn drink.”

Now I’m trying to hush him, I turn and look into his eyes, honest to God, he needs to understand my pain and my fear. Fear is an emotion I know all too well, I need Braxton to understand that I can’t live with that fear anymore. It almost killed me once; it might do me in this time around. No more. I can take no more.

Pleading with only my eyes, I warmly say, “No honey, you don’t ever get to see him. If he knows where I am, he will come for me. I’m as good as dead. He will torture me and then; I might as well be dead.”

“Not. Fucking. Happening.” Seething mad are the only words to describe Braxton right now.

Braxton then spins me around. He is inspecting my body for other marks. I am suddenly shy and start to fight him from looking. He is much stronger than I, so it’s a losing battle for me.

“Show me. All of them: Right the fuck now.” Great.

Rolling my eyes, I proceed to show him my marks; nine in all, in different areas all over my small body. Four are on my thighs, three on the inside of my arms by my armpits and two on my chest; one for each breast. Yeah, just great for some potential guy in my bed; who the hell wants to look at a woman who has knife marks that scar me both physically and better yet, emotionally. I look like ‘Jack the fucking Ripper’ had a party with me.

Braxton kisses each and every one. Taking his time, he gently caresses them before placing a very soft kiss over every scar, not missing a one. This does some weird things to me; I am embarrassed for him to see them, but he never flinches when he comes face to face one. It’s sweet, and I realize I am crying so hard I can’t keep them from spilling down my near naked chest.

“Baby, I am so fucking sorry for each and every time he took a knife to you. No man is a man who does this shit. Bad enough he put his hand on you, but the fucker used a knife to mark you, so you are forced to see them every damn day, let alone if you ever wanted to sleep with a guy. Fucker needs his ass beat, and he needs a knife to cut his dick off. Let him see what it feels like.”

He looks into my eyes as he grazes his lips over my shaking frame. With each cry, I can feel my trembling as he tries to calm me down. Skin to skin, his touch does just that. Crying still, I am cradled into his arms in a fetal position.

“Name Izzy, I want the mother fucker’s name. Not messing around here.” His words firm and intense, like his body.

My pleading stare seems to have little effect on him. “Forget it Braxton, let it go.”

“Fuck Izzy, not going to happen!”

“Name Izzy?” Impatient, his hold on my arms tightens.

I jump, biting back the bile in my throat. “Dominic Santos.”

Several things happen when I let his vile name escape my tortured lips. I swore to myself I would never say his name again. But fuck me, I am telling Braxton his name; I have lost my ever-loving mind. The last thing, I need, is Dominic finding me, what if I am with Eve and Dominic finds me. The thought of it sickens me, and I gasp.

“What’s wrong Sparkplug?” Braxton senses my body tensing and it puts him on alarm.

“Oh my god, you can’t find him Braxton. Promise me, please.” Anxiety rises in my voice, and I flap my hands around like I’m a crazy person.

“Nope.” He holds my arms down.

“Shit Braxton. What if I am with Eve and he finds me. He might hurt her. I don’t care about me, but I will not let him hurt her because of me. Braxton listen to me.” Panic spreads throughout my body.

“Fuck that Izzy, that piece of shit isn’t ever going to touch my girls.”

What. Wait? What did he say?

“Girls?” I ask in a soft voice questioning him.

“Yeah, my two girls. Eve and you, he is never going to lay a finger on either one.” He eyes me with a solemn ‘don’t mess with me’ look.

“Please Braxton, let it go. Kara is watching him for me back home when she can.” My second slip up, as I realize I need to shut my ever loving mouth.

“Who, wait one fucking minute? He is back where you came from, and your friend is watching over him. Like doing what? What is she going to do about it?” He looks at me like I have lost my mind.

“You don’t understand,” I groan and roll my eyes. “He is my best friend’s brother.” I cringe when I let this slip out as well.

Standing up in a flash, Braxton is pacing the room. He is ranting questioning me a mile a minute. How can I be friends with her? Why didn’t Kara stop this from happening? I let him rant; it’s what he does. After he processes it hopefully he will let it go.

Drowning out his words, I sit back and watch him strut around in his black boxers. His muscles are hard to ignore. I’m only snapped from watching eye-candy when my phone starts ringing. Oh hell, who can that be?

Leaning over to my nightstand, I see the name lit up, and the name on it freezes me to my spot. My eyes grow wide when I see that Braxton is eyeing my phone as well.

We look at each other and before I can get to it he grabs it and pushes the talk button.

Oh shit......

“Kara!” He says in a very dark and dangerous tone.