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Authors: Victoria Green,Jinsey Reese

Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) (13 page)

BOOK: Escaped Artist (Untamed #3)
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Dash showed up a little while later with several girls in tow. Hawke, Leo, and Synner immediately dropped the juvenile delinquents act and morphed into slick rock stars. I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched them put well-practiced moves on the groupies.

Indie, who’d claimed me since I was apparently “the only other voice of reason in this male-infested flat,” shook her head.

“If those women only knew what these children I live with were REALLY like,” she said as the groupies swooned over her bandmates, “they’d run screaming out of here.” She eyed them from where we sat on the couch. “That is, if they had any sense, and from the way they’re drooling over the guys, they clearly don’t.”

Thirty minutes with the band, and I was already falling a little bit in love with everyone. I was also feeling so incredibly welcomed amidst their beautiful mayhem.

Most importantly, I was not craving my pills.

It was both a strange and liberating feeling.

At least until Sia strutted in, and it felt like the shadow of a storm cloud suddenly fell over me.

Dare’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of her, and he glanced over at me from where he stood in the kitchen with Dash. He’d stayed by my side until Indie had taken over—almost like they were tag-teaming me—but then he’d gone to get something to drink and hadn’t come back yet. He and Dash were talking quietly—and about something serious from the tense expressions on their faces. But even so, every few minutes I felt Dare’s eyes on me, warming me, checking in as he made sure I was okay.

And I was. I was more than okay.

Well, I had been. As soon Sia stepped into the room, her words echoed in my head.
People don’t change…especially not addicts
.

But I had. My chin lifted a little. I
was
changing.

So why did my fingers itch for my little bottle as soon as I saw her?

I excused myself from Indie and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I felt like I was shutting out the world, keeping myself safe.

But then I saw the medicine cabinet.

My feet brought me to it before my mind could even register what was happening. I stared at my reflection without really seeing myself, too busy wondering what treasures were on the little shelves behind the mirror. Gripping the sink, I gazed into my own eyes—bright, clear, focused. I was in total control of myself, and I liked that feeling. More than I thought I would. Now that I had finally achieved it, there was no way in hell I would give it up so easily.

The pills were calling to me, but I wasn’t going to listen. Not this time. Not ever again.

Hopefully.

Defiantly, I glared at the cabinet, but instead of opening it, I leaned over the sink and splashed water on my face.

I could do this. I
would
do this. I wasn’t ready to lose it on my first day out. Picturing Dare’s face filled with pride and love gave me an extra jolt of strength.

When I opened the bathroom door, Sia was waiting in the hallway, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if I was some kind of prey.

“How are you doing, hun?” She crooned, her voice syrupy sweet. Her eyebrows were drawn up together in the middle of her forehead in mock concern. The fake smile that lifted her bright red lips made my stomach turn.

Yeah, some people never change. She was still a stone-cold bitch.

“I’m fine,” I said, and tried to brush past her, but she shot out an arm and snaked it around my shoulders, turning me toward the back of the house, away from the others.

Then she lowered her voice to a dark whisper. “I’m sure you are,” she said. “And I know how hard it can be, so I brought you this. Just in case.”

She pulled her hand out of her pocket and opened her palm to reveal a little bottle.

Of pills.

Oh, god.

“You know you’re going to need them sometime,” Sia said.

My gaze was glued to the bottle, and my body began to shake. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her shit-eating grin growing wider.

Fucking hell. I needed to get hold of myself. A firm grip on reality.

I shook my head and tried to shut my eyes so I could focus on something else, but I couldn’t peel my eyes from the bottle.

“I don’t want it,” I said, more to convince myself than her.

“Of
course
you don’t.” She let out a tiny laugh. “But you’ll need it. You know that, right?”

The pills in the bottle called to me, singing a sweet siren song only I could hear. And they really needed to shut the fuck up right now.

I grabbed the bottle out of Sia’s hand and strode back into the bathroom. She followed me, looking like she was about to crow. Her face filled with sickening glee as I twisted the lid off and peered inside.

“It’s hard coming back to the real world,” she said with pretend care in her voice. “These’ll help take the edge off.” She grabbed the glass from the edge of the sink and turned on the faucet as I lifted the lid of the toilet, tipped the bottle, and watched the pills tumble into the water.

Sia’s face froze when she turned to hand me the water.

I glared at her even as my hands still shook. “I’m sure Dare is wondering where I am,” I said, then pushed past her and headed toward the front of the house.

“He needs someone like me, bitch. Someone stable.” Her voice halted me, and I turned to face her again. She’d come back out into the hallway, the filled glass still in her hand. “We have a history together. You have no place in his life.”

Anger flushed hot on my face. “That’s not what he says.”

“We fucked. Did he tell you that?”

Her words shivered into my skin like ice shards, and I couldn’t help wonder,
When? When had they fucked? When he came to Amsterdam?

And did it matter even if they had? Because I knew he’d been mine since the day I said I’d go to rehab. I knew it in my soul. That was all that really mattered in the end.

“We were made for each other. And you?” She stalked up to me, practically pressing her nose into mine as her dark eyes tried to burn a hole through me. “You were made for—”

“Me,” Dare said from behind me. Sia’s head whipped up as she gasped. He slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against him. “Ree was made for me.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into the wall of hard muscle behind me. Threading my fingers through his, I felt my body relax as it filled up with his love and his warmth.

“Time for you to go, Sia.” Dare’s voice was dangerously low, and I opened my eyes to see the hurt and anger flashing across Sia’s face. “You’re not welcome here if you’re going to talk to Ree like that.”

Sia glared at me, then pushed past us, hurrying down the hall. I turned in Dare’s arms, slid my hands up his chest and locked them tightly around his neck. Pulling his face down to mine, I melded against his body and kissed him with everything I was feeling in that moment.

“You okay?” he said when we parted, his eyes searching my face.

“I’m better than that.” Grinning, I took his hand and led him back out to the living room, to everyone I wanted to be with.

I was glad Sia was gone, but I was also strangely glad she’d come. Filled with a selfish need to destroy me, she had been my first true test. And I’d passed. I hadn’t kept the bottle.

This night no longer felt like a single step. It was bounding leap.

I was finally starting to rise up from the ashes.

fifteen

“B
reathe, Ree,” Dare’s voice was the only thing still anchoring me to this world. And even his low, commanding tone seemed miles away.


Mmmhmm
…” I felt his black-gloved hands on my hips, but I didn’t chance a peek at what they were doing.

“Relax,” he said, shaking me slightly as he pressed down into my skin. “You’re going to pass out if you keep holding your breath.”

I was pretty damn sure I would pass out regardless.

It was Sunday afternoon, and he had suggested getting started on my tattoo while the shop was closed for the day. So, here I was, lying on my side across his table, peach crochet top up, white denim shorts shimmied down my hips.

All alone. With Dare. And needles.

Thoughts of both made my head spin. If I lost consciousness, it could be from either fear or arousal. Most likely, a combination of the two.

Which was slightly twisted, but we were going on fifteen days of barely any physical contact, and even though I’d been discharged from Feniks yesterday, between the party that went on until the early morning hours and the constant presence of the band members, the most Dare and I had been able to squeeze in was just a handful of kisses.

I wanted, craved, NEEDED my fix. All of him.

My heart hurt. Other parts of me ached for him.

If there was anything I’d learned in rehab, it was that pills were easier to resist than Dare.

I squealed when I felt something cold press into my side, and Dare laughed. “Just the stencil.” He ran the back of his hand over my cheek, slowly trailing his knuckles down my neck and over my shoulder. “The needles are still safely packed away. I’m not going to hurt you.”


Yet
.” I didn’t have many fears, but my phobia of needles went hand-in-hand with my fear of dark, underground spaces. One day soon, I would have the courage to tell Dare the full story. Every. Shameful. Detail. Today, though, I just wanted my phoenix.

“I promise to make every bit of pain worth your while.” A wickedly delicious grin flashed across his lips, making my heart hammer so loud I was certain he could hear every beat. “Trust me. You’re in good hands.”

“I know.” I pressed my lips together and nodded. “I don’t doubt that.” I just wished those hands were doing other things right now instead of preparing to puncture my skin.

But Dare seemed to be in his zone where nothing but art existed. Considering I was going to have his work permanently engraved on my body, I supposed that was a good thing.

Still, a greedy—and extremely horny—part of me couldn’t get over the effect of his proximity. My mind was filled with fantasies of him mounting me on this table right now, spreading my legs wide so he could push himself so deeply into me that we became one.

At the thought, my thighs parted, and a small moan slipped past my lips. I heard Dare suck in a sharp breath. A quick glance up at his face revealed eyes as dark as sin, trained directly on the spot between my legs that throbbed with need for him. My pulse accelerated as I felt—yes, physically
felt
—him devouring me in his mind.

Our last time had been two weeks ago when he had “painted” me with his tongue. His fingers had felt so good gliding over every inch of my skin, his mouth so hot and greedy as he sucked on my clit. This time, I gritted my teeth to keep the moan from escaping.

Too late.

Pulling his gaze away, Dare bent his head to mine and grazed my ear with his lips. “You can’t keep making those sweet, little sounds while I’m working,” he said. “The quickest way to get me to fuck up the tattoo is to make me think about fucking you here on this table. Behave, Princess.”

“Easier said than done.” My cheeks burned. Other parts of me were just as affected by the lust in his eyes and the filth of his words. Clearly, he wasn’t as far gone into the art zone as I had thought.

“So, this isn’t all bad, huh?” He smirked and pressed his mouth to my forehead. How could such a quick kiss make my entire world spin? “I just have to make sure the stencil is locked in and then we’ll break so you can take a look,” he said. “Find something…
safe
…to focus on for the next twenty seconds.”

With Dare’s hands still on me, safe was out of the question. But I focused on something that had been weighing on me for the past few days. A topic I’d been avoiding bringing up since it could mean some time apart. But I had to get it over with. Sooner, rather than later.

“Sabine called while I was at the center.” I bit my lip and took a deep breath. “She offered me a position as curator of an upcoming worldwide exhibition. Full control of the artists. Well paid.”

Dare let out a low whistle. “That lady never ceases to amaze me.”

I nodded my agreement. “She’s my fairy godmother,” I said, becoming more animated about the idea of working, of having a REAL life finally. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Sounds great. When do you start?”

“Two weeks.” I cleared my throat. “In Paris.”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t say anything except a quick, “Huh.”

I had it all planned out. I’d even looked into support groups in the area that I could attend. One of Gino’s associates had agreed to take me on for my weekly counseling sessions. The only thing missing was…Dare.

“I was wondering,” I said, suddenly filled with more fear than any needle could inspire, “would you by any chance want to…?”

Oh, god. Why were my hands shaking? It wasn’t like I was fucking proposing.

I was just asking him to follow me to another country. On many levels, that was probably a more intimate request than marriage. Especially considering everything we had been through in the past few months. But I had to try. I had to show him I was done running. Dare needed to know I wanted to be with him, that I wanted to do this together.

BOOK: Escaped Artist (Untamed #3)
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