'Warrior' by Demi Lovato perfectly symbolizes the previous chapter and this chapter.

It's been on repeat and has been my inspiration to keep on writing. It's Jessie's song <3

Fun fact: While writing this on Microsoft Word, I had to change the font to make me feel more badass while writing.

That makes me cool.

So cool.

If not.

Deal with it.

Smile people!

I'm feeling capricious. Sorry. I'm not sorry.

Sorry.

PLEASE VOTE!! <3

+++

Chapter 23: I'm finally naming a chapter: The Title



+This chapter is NOT EDITED.++

I bet if you went through half the shit I've gone through, you wouldn't know what to do with your life.

That is—if it was your life. Life as a lie, your first lover being a lie, the family that was interested in what you did and paid attention to you was all a lie, and lastly, someone you trusted the most lied their identity to you.

Have I ever mentioned the life of a gang member involves trusting no one? There was a knife behind every back.

Luckily, I had a strong sixth sense and was now able to see the knife before it struck again.

I hoped.

The hot shower didn't help melt off the shaken feelings. I tried thinking back to when I saw the undercover Eagle, checking for any signs of how they could have been the double agent, but they were too good. I would have never guessed. I just hoped that Eagle was safe because although they were a pain in my ass, I realized they were trying to get close to me; wanting to build a trust that would hopefully resurface once the Eagle comes back home.

If they ever do.

"I would sure hope so. I do need someone to talk to that I can trust," I said aloud.

The creamy walled bathroom smelling of lavender, I hugged the towel and stepped to the mirror. Scrubbing to reveal my reflection, I dropped my towel and took in the differences. My eyes curved over the erratic humps down my waist and sudden lumps across my previously flattened chest. The scars and bruises played no affect in decreasing the perfection, legs more toned and arms thicker rather than my earlier twigs.

"Wildcat? Can you come out?"

I leapt out of my skin and made quick work with the pale nightgown and wrestled the knotty hair into a bun.

Stumbling into the bedroom, I saw Romane sitting on my bed holding two glasses full of—

"Wine?" Perplexed, I stalked over and asked, "What's the occasion?"

Dressed in white silk pyjamas, he elevated a quick shrug and said, "Shall I remind you how I always forget how young you are?" I did a playful, thanking curtsey before clutching the wine glass and took a seat next to him. "Alcohol, wildcat, is the remedy to every problem that involves stress. A surprise you weren't expecting and sure as hell didn't enjoy. Alcohol. Shitty day? Alcohol."

I wagered my finger. "Not true. Alcohol also leads to addiction. Plus, stress is a daily emotion so if I had a glass each time I wanted to yank my hair out, I think I'd be an alcoholic."

"You're killing the whole purpose, wildcat," he said and did a teasing eye roll. "Just drink."

A grin extended further and I clinked glasses before tipping the red liquid down. Because of these recent emotional crisis', I would tolerate anything worth complaining such as the awkward tastes in wine.

"Like it?" he asked. "Stress free?"

"It tastes funny," honesty dripping past my lips.

His laughter caused the wine to almost spill onto the furry blanket. "You're too cute."

I blinked numerous times. "Cute?"

He leaned closer and tapped my nose. "Yes. Cute. Adorable, like a little—"

"If you say child I'm going to splash this on your precious pyjamas," I scolded.

I cringed each time someone referred to me as a child, it companied with immediate anger. Ever since the monster outburst, I've been avoiding anything that connected with stress.

Just the thought of that cued another alcohol douse.

"Were you talking to yourself?"

I glanced up, confused at his intense stare. "Y-yes but I wasn't having a conversation with anyone—"

"Are the voices returning?" he asked sharply.

"No," I answered and tucked my feet under my bottom, trying to bring comfort into this uneasy topic. "When you're a teenager and you have no one to share anything with, you become slightly," I lightly laughed, "one can call me an oddball." I tipped my head back with another laugh. "Shall I remind you how I always forget how old you are?"

He averted his gaze, mumbling, "I'm not that old."

"Okay, old man," I tittered. Furious, he swerved his head to the side and I burst into laughter for the second—third?—time.

"Romane," I mocked, "You're killing the whole purpose. Quit stressing."

The wrinkles across his forehead loosened and he widened a bright smile. "Okay, wildcat. No more stress." He shifted so he was sitting the opposite of me. "But our age difference shouldn't matter. You know you can always talk to me. I understand why you wouldn't want to, the amount of trust slimming after ever revealing secret, but I want you to know I'll always be here. If you want to unleash anything, take it out on me and no one else. I can take it."

I remained speechless as his words muddled with my mind. The bittersweet taste wasn't only from the wine. How he'd sacrifice himself for the safety of others was heart warming yet how he held so much goodness was aching. How could a woman hate a monster that really wasn't all that bad?

"Okay?" he finished, searching for his hopeful answer.

"Yeah," I said with a natural small smile.

"Good." He bent below the bed and pulled out a crate full of bottles.

I said, "Usually people store condoms, chocolate or candy under their bed." Bewildered at the multiple names: vodka, rum, coolers, 6%, 8%, 10%—there was tons of it.

"Don't restrict your mind to the norm," he said, popping open a rum bottle. "It's what kills originality." I nodded and picked up white rum, the clear liquid seeming so innocent. "And this used to be the alcohol storage room so while cleaning it out, some were too lazy to take all the bottles and shoved them in places." He shrugged. "Don't be surprised if you find beer in the vents."

I made a funny look that twisted into a low smile. "Thanks for the warning," I said.

He downed another gulp, getting rid of the empty wine glass. "No problem," he answered.

I watched naively fascinated by the man sitting upon me. My stare captured those strong, arms tip the drink. It lingered to his broad shoulders and up his square jaw, drifting briefly over those wet, pink lips across the bridge of his slightly bent nose. I was awed by the scars embedded into his cheek. Then it flowed towards the golden hair that I never had the urge to touch until now. Following the fair strands, I dipped back to his ruggedly handsome face and fixed onto those ocean eyes. They held such mystery. Goodness. Purity. Honesty. Yet they didn't captivate me, they didn't hold me against them and I felt like I could look away as I pleased. They were so open, I was drawing in by my own choice, and passion.

"You like my eyes?" he smirked, catching my long stare.

Cheeks heating up, I quickly uttered, "Your eyes are as blue as my toilet water."

He laughed hard enough to think he'd gone mad. Hell, I had gone mad. These admiring thoughts should've left, they didn't belong in my mind. He didn't belong in my mind.

And what was natural to do when you couldn't get someone out of your head?

Drink alcohol. A whole shit-ton of it.

We drank until we were drowning in our own hysterics, and mouths were vomiting childhood secrets, and outlandish thoughts. The emotions that endeavoured to surface, the pain, confusion, heartbreak, betrayal, I drowned them too. I was dying and coming back to life. I was swimming in half empty bottles, laying flat on my back with Romane joining my sudden interest in ceiling. Warmth was pooling in my stomach and it was swirling, churning to create a buzz that pleased me. Was this was alcohol did? Make you feel like shit and pure euphoria all at once? I turned my head on the pillow to face him. Blurs were invading my vision and the single focus was on Romane.

My throat had numbed from the burning, and my voice was hoarse. "Have you lied to me?"

He placed his hand behind his head and turned, his eyes crinkling in happiness. "No. I've never lied to you. I never wanted to hurt you."

His words were foggy—his face was foggy—blurs, blurs, blurs...sluurrrssssss.

"Slurpie," I said flatly.

A smile popped back on his unsteady features. "Slurpie," he said loudly as if he never heard the word before. "Slurpie."

I licked my lips, imagining a Mountain Dew Slurpie. His face hardened and he scooted closer, our alcohol breathes setting my nose on fire. But the warmth still tumbling in my stomach defeated the sickening feelings.

"Wildcat, can I tell you a secret?"

My fingers danced across his naked arms, tip toeing to their own routine. "I like knowing secrets."

"Then you should know this one." His husky voice had me wonder if his throat was numb too. "I shouldn't be sharing this, but Slurpie."

"Slurpie," I affirmed, my fingers magically dancing across his neck, up his cheek. He naturally leaned into the touch.

His thumb traced the line of my jaw and my stomach was hit by a warm, tingling wave. "Although I am twice the size of you, I want you to belong to me. Stay with me. Be with me. But you said if I planned on forcing you, you would have found ways to torment me that I couldn't even begin to imagine." The pad brushed over my lips. "Wildcat, you have no idea how bad you've tortured me."

"Your ways make me wish I had never laid eyes on you. Ways that make me wish you were never born. Ways that make my life a living hell. Death seems like a relief after what you've done with me." My eyes widened as he approached to close the distance between us. "The urge I have—how badly I want you—is burning, it hurts. You and your ways, it dragged me across the tracks, growing an addiction I hadn't known existed." He pressed our mouths ever so lightly and spoke, "I once said you'd be mine, I'd claim you and you'd belong to me. But you have a way with fucking up everything, and it's the other way around now. I am finally giving in. Wildcat, my heart belongs to you."

"Slurpie," I responded.

"Slurpie," he said flatly. "That's your response?!"

My light fingers then turned into hungry claws and I grasped onto his neck before yanking his lips to mine. He tasted of vodka and I hummed in approval, pressing him enough to believe he could get closer. Our mouths tangling had my stomach roar and the warmth was now spreading across my body. My toes, shaking legs, waist, and needy hands. I grasped onto his shoulders as I felt his weight crush me, gasping at the bulge on my navel. "Romane."

"Wildcat." He buried his mouth into my neck, his voice vibrating under the hot skin. "Jess, god, Jess." I realized why it was so rare, such a pleasure to hear my name roll off his tongue. It was rare because it could kill me. He could kill me. He'd be the end of me. His hands roamed under my gown, the skin contact stealing my breath. He fumbled with the bra and I, in nature, arched my back. Fuelled by the response, he squeezed and mended the two valleys, sweeping a finger over one sensitive nub.

"Holy," I said, eyes popping open. I didn't even notice they were closed, blinded by the overwhelming pleasure.

"Say my name, wildcat," he roughly said, fondling harder on my soft skin.

I responded with a long moan, wanting to offer more. An aching burned between my legs and my hips squirmed, instinctively creating friction between our lower cores.

Our moans were sweet honey being slathered across my body, and I tangled my hand into that golden hair. Dragging his lips to mine, it ached to taste such heaven. His teeth grazed across my bottom lip, and I delved my tongue back in. The blurs arrived again, and I shut my eyes, trying to shield them out. I hardly realized his hand slipping back under the gown, circling my belly button. Cool air hit my sensitive core and I cursed, remembering I didn't slip on panties. That only increased the aching between my legs and I whimpered, "Slurpie."

"That's not my name," he grasped, breaking the contact of our mouths to attack my neck.

"Romane," I corrected, now lifting my hips to relieve the pain. His groan was appetizing once our cores contacted. The silk grinding against my opening had me jerk my hips again. "Yes, yes. Romane, please."

He discarded his pants and before I could take in the phenomenon, the door flew open.

"Romane," sang a child. My eyes took in the pale beauty, her own eyes dancing with excitement. "Romane! Look! I finally made the airplane!"

+++

I had no idea where I was going with this. I kid you not. I had everything planned for this chapter and then... it turned into this.

So..yeah. I don't blame you if you have nothing to say because I got nada.

Thanks for everything guys! I wasn't even supposed to update today, but I just...felt like it. <3

And who agrees with me that 'Warrior' by Demi Lovato perfectly symbolizes the previous chapter? It's at the side if you want to listen --->

PLEASE VOTE!!

j_street