What Doesn't Destroy Us (The Devil's Dust #1)(77)

After another round of hot, mind-blowing sex, I lay next to Shadow panting and staring. He has been so playful lately, will he go back to being an ass when we get back to the club? I know he will never leave the club and, to be honest, I don’t want him to, we just need to find a balance. I wonder if he always wanted to be part of a motorcycle club.

“What?” he asks.

“I was just curious, what did you want to be when you grew up?” I play with the skull being crushed tattoo on his back, the club's insignia.

Shadow sits there for a second, pondering. “I wanted to be like my dad,” he says with sorrow, making me regret my question.

“What about you?” he asks.

I smile at him, knowing my answer will shock him.

“A ballerina.”

Shadow snorts, making me laugh.

“So why didn’t you?” he asks seriously.

I shake my head. The thought of why I wasn’t a ballerina causes my chest to constrict with anger. I sigh loudly.

“I started ballet young; I loved it. I did it almost every day. As I got older and my mother became the bitch she is today, it became my escape. I felt like a princess, ya know?” I look at Shadow, his lips turning into a smirk. ”As I got older, I got good, too, really good. My instructor wanted me to help teach younger children, maybe even get a scholarship. When I told my mother, she was anything but excited. She told me acting like a princess wasn’t a career choice for her daughter and to stay in school. She made me not only decline the offer, but drop out. She said I needed to focus on school. She drained my bank account so I couldn’t pay for the classes anymore, in case I tried to go behind her back.” A tear escaped my swollen eyes as I retold the hurtful memory. I remember it as if it was yesterday, but in reality it was only a few years ago.

“If it wasn’t for your mother, would you still be doing it today?” Shadow asks quietly, his thumb brushing off the lonely tear.

I look into his blue eyes. “Absolutely.” There is no doubt in my mind I would still be doing ballet if it wasn’t for her. She would never listen to what I wanted, even if it made me happy. She wanted the status of what others would think of her, even if it made me miserable.

Shadow shakes his head in agreement, his thumb that brushed my tear away now rubbing his bottom lip.

“Your mom is gone, when we get back you're starting ballet again.” His tone is serious and dominant.

Before I can tell him no, he interrupts me.

“You’re not getting out of this, I can see how much passion you have for this. She’s not here to weigh you down anymore. You’re doing this and you’re going to be amazing, I can’t wait to see you teach little girls how to be princesses.” He says every word with a big goofy grin.

I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face, his caring words infuse themselves into my soul.

“We leave tomorrow,” I state. I don’t want to go back to the club and the danger of Shadow's escaped mother.

“Yeah, probably going to leave early. I bet they need help setting up for the after party.” Shadow sits up on the bed, his hair sticking out in all directions. The man is more sexy when he has bed hair than ever.

“For the bike rally thing?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s usually fun. But there have been problems in the past,” he says, running his hands back and forth through his hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, cops are usually swarming the place, waiting for a biker to f*ck up; get a chance of probable cause to dig deeper; rival clubs going at it and shit,” he says, rubbing his hands over the stubble on his cheeks. It has grown out a little over the last day or so and gives his face a darker look.

“Nothing has happened in a while, but stay close to me,“ he says, eyeing me .

“Thanks for bringing me here, Shadow. It really has been great.” It has been a big step for us, getting away, but I still need to know more. I need to know everything about Shadow.

“What you said you would tell me, are you ready?” I state, frustrated.

Shadow climbs from the bed throwing the sheets off him and onto my lap. His cute butt cheeks greet me, causing me to stare.

He grabs some boxers out of the drawer and slides them on, blocking his cute buttocks from my view.

I look up and see him glaring at me, trapping me with his intense stare.

He breaks his glare and looks off toward the beach.

“I kill people,” he mutters.

I know that. I saw how he killed Ricky without a second thought. He told me he killed people, was that what he was so afraid to tell me.

“Yeah, I know that,” I respond.

“No, I mean I kill people for a living,” he replies, his tone alarming.

My heart stops beating briefly. “What?” I gasp, in dismay.

“What, not the prince charming story you wanted to hear? You wanted to know this shit, so here you are. I kill people for money!” he shouts at me, angry.

“Like a hit man?” I ask, my voice timid.

“I guess you can call me that,” he says, sitting on the bed. His elbows rest on his knees as he rubs his thumb back and forth over his bottom lip.

“Why?” I ask.

He turns and looks at me. He seems to be gathering his thoughts.

“Growing up the way I did, I had to learn how to ignore things to live. I eventually became numb, just a shell of a person.” He pauses, staring at me before continuing.