Thrive (6 page)

I laid awake all night and watched her sleep. I tried to find a way to explain my life to her; to find a way to give her the information she needed, without her pushing far enough away that I’d never be able to get her back. How do you tell the woman you love more than the air you breathe, that you’ve failed? How do you tell her that you break the law, steal from people – ripping away a child’s future, or a woman’s dream of a happy home, free from worry of debt and wondering how they would feel the hungry mouths of their children? How do you tell her that your days are spent covering it up, your entire existence devoted to stealing and concealing the truth? How do you explain how much you long to be the man she needs, the man she deserves and the man she’d read about in fairy tales as a little girl? There’s no easy way to expose yourself to the person who has the power to bring you to your knees and make you wish you were never born. There’s no easy way to tell her that everything you’ve ever tried to be, to earn the right to be loved by her, you’ve failed at.

Like before, on the night I sent her away, Skye whispered my name in slumber. Her voice was filled with desperation to be closer to me, and laced with the adoration I’d never deserve. I wanted to deserve it. I wanted to be her Prince Charming and whisk her off into the sunset towards our happy ever after.

But the darkness would only follow us if I did. I had to let her in.

The only way to do that was to show her the darkness and sacrifice myself…to offer her the choice to walk away and prepare for the consequences of her inevitable absence.

Without her, I’d be nothing. I’d wave the white flag, throw in the towel, and hand myself to the wolves.

~Curtis~

“Skye?”

A soft voice roused me from sleep and I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly until I could focus. Curtis was sitting on the edge of the bed, showered and dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt. He held out another pair towards me and I grabbed them as I sat up heavily and rubbed my eyes.

“It’s still dark,” I said, my voice gravelly from sleep.

“It won't be for long. I need you to see something.”

He stood up and offered me his hand; I accepted it and climbed out of bed, pulled the trousers on to cover up my bare legs and match the t-shirt of Curtis’ Lois had given me last night. Once again, I was dressed in his clothes, the appearance of the girl I was before our reunion forgotten.

He threw an old worn woollen jacket over my shoulders and I shoved my arms into it before letting Curtis lead me down the dark staircase and through the house to the conservatory at the back.

“What are we doing in here?”

A chill rippled through my body when I looked around and pictured Oliver standing with his friends on New Year’s Eve, happy in his drunken teddy-bear state.

“I want to show you something.”

He nodded at two steaming cups of coffee on the table. I picked them up; Curtis grabbed a blanket from the ottoman by the doors and opened them, stepping out into the garden and disappearing into the darkness. I followed, curious and still sleepy, as he led us to the lawn where he’d laid the blanket down and sat on it, waiting for me. I handed him the cups, sat down next to him, and we stared out towards the back of the garden for what felt like forever. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked.

“The only way I can explain what’s going on is to show you. After you ran away yesterday, I realised I have to give you
something
…this is the only something I can give.”

“I saw you and the blonde together. There’s no room for me in your life, Curtis. Don’t keep me by your side because you pity me. You owe me nothing.”

“It terrified me,” he confessed, diverting my response. “I came out of my office and you were gone. I have to keep you by my side.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I
need
you by my side.”

“Then why…?”

“Just watch.”

I turned back to face the horizon as the sun began to rise behind it; the soft light of a new day pushed its way into the darkness of the night before.

“I’m the darkness,” Curtis breathed, hesitating to think about his next words. “I’m the part of the day everyone is afraid of. The part everyone wants to end so they can move onto a better day.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re the light,” he continued, ignoring me, lost in his struggle of verbal expression. “You bring hope and promise. You’re the part everyone looks forward to because it’s exciting and full of energy.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Curtis curled one arm around my shoulder and his free hand pointed to the sky in front of us. I followed his direction, to where the light and dark met and battled for attention with shocks of bright orange and hues of fading purple.

“We’re that part, right there, you and me. We’re bound to collide. It’s inevitable, unavoidable. Visually it’s beautiful, but in reality, it’s a bloody battle. The darkness will always eclipse the light. Even now, when the sun is rising, the dark is trying to squash it.”

“Curtis, I know what you’re trying to say, but…”

“No, you don’t. If you stay around me, you’ll lose your light. I can't let that happen.”

“So what you’re saying is, you found me just to send me away again.”

“No. I’m saying I made a mistake. I believed for years that if I found you, you would save me. I didn’t realise that I would drag you down with me.”

“You know,” I smiled and lied back on the blanket, watching the sky change and swirl. “You would have made your point a lot better if you’d have done this at sunset.”

He turned his head to look down at me, confused. I nodded for him to join me and when he did, I pointed upwards.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“The sky.”

“What colour is it?”

“Blue.”

“Exactly. The dark and light will always collide, you’re right. But they’ll always balance each other, and the tables will always turn. The sun doesn’t have it easy. It has to work for its place in the sky, but it wins, Curtis. And then come sunset, it’s the dark’s time to fight.”

“Skye-”

“We’re always going to clash. We’re going to consume
each other
. We always have.”

“I want to hurt you.” His confession was low and filled with regret. He dropped his head and looked away, deflating in shame.

“Good. Because I want to hurt you, too.”

“What?” His dark eyes shot to mine in shock.

“I’m in, Curtis. Let me save you. Let me save us both.”

My back hit the wall and Curtis dragged me across it, his teeth sinking into my neck as we edged closer to the stairs. I squeezed my legs around his waist and my hands gripped his face, holding him to me as erratic breaths escaped my lips.

“Curtis,” I panted. “Lois.”

His mouth left me for a second to growl, “Gone,” before he consumed me once more and carried me up the stairs.

We crashed through the door of his bedroom, knocking old books and trophies to the floor as we fumbled across the room. Curtis shoved me against the wall and I heard the fight night posters tear from the force. Pictures fell, moans erupted from the primitive couple exploring every surface of the room with fervour. Our lips collided, our kisses searing, burning desperation. Our tongues fought like the light and dark, only there was no light this time; it was dark, so dark, and I wanted more. I pulled at Curtis’ t-shirt, but he wouldn’t let go. His hands covered mine at the back of his neck and he pulled, ripping the cotton open.

“Pull,” he groaned, returning his hands to my waist, sliding them up my t-shirt to squeeze the sensitive flesh.

I pulled, tearing his t-shirt and exposing his back. My nails dug deep, my heels pushed his trousers down; my hands lowered to grab his ass, pulling him closer and grinding against the growing heat that slid between my legs. My t-shirt was next. Curtis ripped it precisely, in multiple places, until it shredded and fell to the floor in pieces.

“Mmm,” he groaned, taking my breasts in his hands, and stroking his thumbs over my hardened nipples; my back arched, I begged for more and I moaned his name as I felt them peak.

I felt the hesitation radiate from him; his touch lost its spark and his lips slowed, edging away from me but unable to let go.

“Show me,” I pleaded, pulling back. “Take me to the darkness, Curtis.”

He growled, pulled me away from the wall and tossed me to the bed. I scrambled out of my trousers as he kicked his off, and I parted my legs in time for him to kneel between them. Calloused fingertips ghosted down my stomach, settling between my legs where I felt the ache, the pulse; the desperate need for him - whichever side of him was present. As his pupils dilated, his brown eyes darkened to a torrid storm, and two fingers sunk into me, I could see that we were on the edge of the eye of it; far enough away to be safe, but close enough to be in danger.

“Work for it,” he rasped, stilling his fingers as I threw my head back in delight.

“What?”

My breath caught and I could feel my eyes burning into him.

“Work for it.” He grabbed my hip and pulled me into him, plunging his fingers in deeper. I cried out and his stomach muscles tightened in reaction to my eager plea for more. “Ride my fingers. Show me what you want to do to my dick.”

Christ. I gasped, instinctively tightening my grip on his fingers as a new arousal moved in.

“That’s it, baby,” he hummed and licked his lips. “Show me what you want.”

I hesitated and threw my arm over my eyes. I couldn’t watch him watching me, but when he peeled my arm away and I was forced to make eye contact, I realised this was his confirmation. How far was I prepared to step out of my comfort zone?

There was no time for light. There was no need to think.

I began rocking into his fingers, looking for a rhythm, begging for friction, but he gave none. I dug my heels into the bed and slid my body up and down his fingers with an almost-satisfied sigh. As my frustration grew, I cried out louder, each lament more guttural and needy than the last; Curtis hissed and leaned over to watch me fall apart. The erotic delight flashed in his eyes – delight that he had given me his body and I was using it for my own pleasure. I felt his warm, ragged breaths on me and watched the vein in his neck pulse with savage speed. I smiled, licked my lips and reached between us to grab his wrist. His fingers slid out of me and my body protested, my lips parting to release a breathless moan. I brought his hand up to my mouth and wrapped my lips around his fingers, drawing them into my mouth.

“Christ, Skye,” he exhaled loudly when I flicked my tongue over his fingertips and kept my eyes locked on his.

I released him and settled back into the mattress, matching his haunting gaze.

“Fuck me, Curtis. Show me the darkness.” I clawed at his back and pulled him closer, but it wasn’t close enough. It was never close enough. “Show me the darkness.”

Curtis was lying on his back; my head was on his chest and my fingers drew a trail over his ink. I felt the ache in my body; the physical marks of the animal who had just ravaged me. My neck burned where his teeth had bitten down, my stomach and waist stung from his nails and fingertips; my legs ached from my grip on him as he drove into me. I couldn’t let him see. I knew I’d lose him again if he saw what we’d done to each other.

“Tell me about them,” I asked, circling my finger over the design on his chest.

“The ink?” he hummed, calmed by my touch, with his eyes closed and a relaxed expression on his beautiful face.

“Yes. Why tattoos? What do they mean?”

“It started out as an initiation,” he said, raising his arm so I could see
Cut Throat
tattooed along the inside of his forearm in cursives and surrounded by the shaded roses that made up the design of his sleeve. “That was the first. And then it became about the escape. It’s hard to explain if you’ve never had one but it feels unlike any other pain I’ve ever felt…and I’ve felt a lot.” His voice softened, but he recovered by snorting a chuckle. “Geoff thought I was addicted at one point. I got inked after every win, like some sort of celebratory souvenir for kicking someone’s ass. They don’t mean much – I just went for whatever design I wanted out of the artist’s portfolio. Except this one…”

He shrugged so I lifted my head off his chest, and he pointed to the word
trust
inked on his ribs.

“Why trust?”

“It’s a reminder…to never trust anyone. When you do, you open yourself up to pain, and I can't handle any more pain, Skye.”

He pulled my head back down and I continued my exploration of the meaningless black markings on his body.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, hopeful of the answer. We were in this together.

“No.”

I huffed and deflated. That wasn’t the answer I expected, or wanted.

“Why?”