Salvation (Without You Book 2) Read online

She jerks back, hand slapping over her mouth, preventing me from tasting her.

  “I smell.”

  “I probably do too. Oh-fucking-well. Now, gimme a kiss,” I demand, moving her hand away from her mouth so I can slam my lips onto hers.

  My mind warns me to take this slow, not wanting to repeat last night, but my dick has other plans. So I stop the kissing altogether, preventing a war between both heads.

  “How did you sleep?” I grind out, hoping my arousal isn’t too apparent in my tone.

  She calms down her breathing by inhaling deeply, blinking rapidly as she exhales. “I, uh. I slept well. How about you?”

  “Fucking perfect with you pressed against me.”

  Her blush burns through her olive skin, glowing crimson red as she stares everywhere but at my face.

  Amira’s bashful tendencies have always created a stirring in my pants and somersaults beneath my ribcage. The way she crinkles her nose because she doesn’t know how to take my desire makes me so fucking ravenous.

  I have to simmer down the beast waking inside me, needing him to stay put until Amira gives me the green light to move farther.

  I’ll be patient as long as she wishes me to, but the need I have for her grows inside me more each day, making it increasingly difficult to silence my desires.

  “What do you want to do today?” I ask, grabbing a lock of wild, curly hair as it falls over her face and tucking it behind her ear. Leaving my palm to cup over her ear, she snuggles into my touch, eyes fluttering closed before speaking again.

  “We have no food because Ash eats everything, and Shadow ran out of those treats that were in the pantry, so we have to get some more.”

  There’s a hitch in her voice as she goes over everything we have to do. I know she doesn’t feel comfortable leaving the house. Quite fucking honestly, I don’t want to leave either. If I could stay locked up inside this room, holding her in my arms, for the rest of my life, then I fucking would.

  There’s nothing for me out there. Everything I could ever need is right here.

  But that’s not the reality of the world, and unfortunately, we need to venture out sometime.

  “Want to go now to get it out of the way? Or do you want to try again later when it isn’t so busy?”

  Amira’s face scrunches in concentration, mulling over my suggestions when Shadow’s excited bark breaks through the quiet.

  A smile takes over Amira’s expression completely. Flipping onto her back, she opens her arms wide and braces for Shadow’s paws to dance on her chest.

  If you don’t count the fish I killed in fifth grade, neither of us has ever had a pet before. Over these past couple of months, Shadow has been a huge fucking adjustment for us.

  Initially, I thought for dogs, all you had to do was feed, wash, and walk them, but Shadow demanded I change that mentality real fucking quick. She requires the same amount of love you would give anyone else; long moments of affection to show how much we care about her.

  Amira’s laughter is a siren’s call to my heart. Her bright giggle uplifts my spirits as Shadow attempts to lick the entirety of her face.

  Sitting up in bed, Amira grabs Shadow from under her belly and brings her up to her chest, kissing her little head until Shadow is satisfied enough to curl into a ball on Amira’s lap and go back to sleep.

  Still on my side, hand tangled in the strands of my hair, I gaze at Amira’s content smile. The peace that radiates on her face at this moment is something I wish she would feel at all times.

  Amira catches my staring and holds my eyes. “You’re staring.”

  Because I like what I see.

  “You’re just so damn pretty, angel.”

  She smiles down softly at the sleeping French bulldog on her lap, a blush working its way up her neck and onto the apples of her cheeks.

  “You know, I used to beg mom and da-Gabriel, for this exact dog when I was in elementary school, but he said no… that I wasn’t old enough to care for an animal.”

  “I remember. I was there the night you made an entire presentation about the benefits of having a dog.”

  She was so cute with her poster board and facts. Gabriel sat through her whole speech before clapping and sharing an amused glance with Adrianna. For a moment, we all thought he’d finally agree, but when the no slipped from his lips, a collective sigh of disappointment echoed around the room.

  “I was so upset that I went into my room and tore up that poster. Then, finally, I cried myself to sleep.”

  I’m just about to tell her that I’d saved up all my yardwork money, ready to buy her the dog of her dreams, when the look on her face drops, expression turning deadly as she scratches Shadow’s head.

  “I think he told me no because he didn’t want the dog to be loyal to me instead of him. Couldn’t have something protecting me when he chased me through the woods, right?” she says with numbness in her tone, a forced laugh barking from her lips.

  The atmosphere in the room turns somber; a fucking black shadow cast over our heads as our past hangs heavy between us.

  Flipping onto my back, I tear my hands through my hair, ripping at the roots until the pain at my scalp distracts me from the anguish in her words.

  “You know I’m fucking sorry, right… I’m so, so, fucking sorry, angel.” I rise on the bed to kneel beside her. Shadow licks my hand as I take Amira’s face, forcing her gaze to meet mine. “I would have come for you. I fucking swear it. I would have come. I just… Tommy… I lost it, and by the time everything came to… I was being taken away.”

  My apology doesn’t even come close to being good enough, and the fucking crestfallen look on her face is all the reassurance I need to do fucking better.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she whispers, pushing back the curl of hair that falls over my eye.

  “Okay,” I concede, pressing my lips gently against hers before jumping off of the bed altogether.

  Our wounds are still too fucking fresh to deal with right now, but there are too many things unsaid between us, too many revelations we need to unpack.

  The games.

  Her family.

  We’re fucking half-siblings.

  That last thought sends chills down my spine as I step from the room into the bathroom across the hall. Bile surging into my mouth as I think over the moment Adrianna dropped that fucking bomb on us.

  I thought I had died and was watching everything I loved being shattered around me.

  It was a fucking lot to take in. It’s still too much to absorb, but I fucking love Amira, and regardless of our DNA, I’m gonna be with her until the day I die.

  The bathroom door opens as I’m washing my hands, then Amira steps in beside me to grab her toothbrush from the counter.

  We brush our teeth in silence, the image of a perfect, happy couple reflected in the mirror in front of us.

  It’s funny how mirrors work. They show us how we appear outside, but not as we are. It fails to shed light on the fucking rot that taints our blood.

  We are not the image in the mirror. Instead, we’re the people who escaped hell, only to make it on the other side with our demons still scraping their fangs along our hearts.

  I hold the foamy mint toothpaste in my mouth as I wait for Amira to finish her facial routine, ready to choke on the fucking shit if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up and wash the pomegranate scented scrub off of her face.

  Her bratty stare meets mine in the reflection, a tilt lifting her lips as she slows down her process.

  I’m about to tickle the shit out of her to get her to move away from the sink when a sudden banging comes from the front door.

  Our heads shift in that direction simultaneously, wondering who the fuck is banging on our door at almost three in the afternoon.

  Using her distraction for my gain, I spit the spearmint foam into the sink, but at the last second, she moves back, causing some to get in the ends of her hair.

  “Roman!” she screams, spinning aroun
d swiftly to smack me over my shoulder, but I’m just too fast for her and slip through the doorframe before her palm can connect.

  “I’m going to get you back!” I hear her shout as I scamper through the hall.

  I wipe my hand over my mouth, ensuring any toothpaste residue is gone before I open the door.

  What the fuck?

  “Dude. What the fuck are you doing?!” I ask, watching Ash vomit into the bushes by the stair rail.

  The smell of tequila and smoke drift off of him in waves, making me almost gag when he comes to full height, breathing in my direction.

  “Did you drive this drunk?” I don’t see his car anywhere, which only makes me more nervous. He has me thinking that he fucking totaled it and is now taking shelter in our home.

  “No, I didn’t fucking drive. I’m drunk, not stupid. I called a cab.”

  Ash tries to move past me, his intoxicated body swaying as he climbs the stone steps.

  “No, no, no. Clean this shit up,” I say, pointing to the mess he made.

  His groan echoes loudly on this quiet Saturday afternoon, disturbing the chirping House Sparrows in the tree across the lawn.

  Hobbling down the steps, unsteady on his feet, Ash bends low at the waist to grab the hose on the wall behind the bush, proceeding to spray the bile until it melds in with the mud.

  “Everything okay?” I hear from a distance.

  We lift our heads at the same time, watching Sage slowly make her way toward us. A look of concern etches across her face while she watches Ash spraying a fucking hole into the ground.

  I shut off the water as Ash slurs his words, a goofy-ass smile spreading over his lips as he attempts to flirt.

  “Everything is damn fine, darling. How are you?”

  I know for a fact Sage doesn’t understand one fucking word he's saying, but she smiles just as kindly. “Well, have a great day. Bye, Roman… Ash.”

  I watch redness burn the back of Ash’s neck as he gazes at Sage’s departing backside, his eyes remaining on her until she hops into her beat-up truck and drives away.

  “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of that girl,” he murmurs, fumbling on his feet as he spins past me to hurry up the stairs.

  Ash’s inebriated vow has a deep, throaty chuckle snapping out of my mouth. His out-of-this-world confidence never ceases to amaze me.

  “Hey, Ash. You never came back,” Amira says, coming through the hallway, shooting me a pinched glare before returning her eyes to our intoxicated guest moaning on the floor by the couch.

  Within the minute, Ash is snoring on the ground, arm thrown over his eyes as the other lays sprawled out to the side.

  Shadow comes out of the room, barking jovially on her way to Ash. She gives him one sniff before backing away, scratching her nose with the side of her paw.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Amira asks, coming to stand beside me while we gaze at a passed-out Ash.

  “Just found him throwing up in our fucking bush, drunk off his ass.”

  Amira scrunches her nose in disgust before quietly stepping through the living room, grabbing a blanket off of the couch and throwing it over him.

  My eyes take in her outfit. Body-hugging jeans that form around her tight ass, giving me a little glimpse of the black boyshorts she wears underneath. Her form-fitting grey long-sleeve molds against her curves, teasing me with the briefest hint of cleavage as she crosses her arms over her chest.

  Amira’s naturally coiled chocolate hair hangs low past her breasts, making me want to wrap it around my hand and drag her to me, guiding her to her knees so she can take my aching cock in her mouth.

  Brushing the image away when I catch her odd stare, I make my thoughts once again PG as I open my arms wide. “You want to go now?”

  I feel her head nod into my chest while her hands rub against my lower spine. “Just waiting on you.”

  I inhale her scent of strawberries and coconuts as I kiss the crown of her head, then lightly smack her on the ass as I walk out of the room to change. Her little yelp heats my blood, but I tone that shit down, needing to control the hunger I have for her.

  I slide on a pair of torn jeans and a black crewneck sweater before lacing up my sneakers and springing up from the bed.

  Walking into the bathroom, I stare at my reflection once again and contemplate if I should style my hair or not. It’s grown past my ears, my curls constantly obstructing my view, but Amira loves running her fingers through them without the annoyance of gel coating her fingers, so I leave my hair as is and join her in the living room.

  “Ready to go, angel?” I ask, patting the pockets of my jeans, making sure I have my wallet and keys.

  As I enter the living room, my feet come to a halt. I silently watch Amira stroking the urn her mother rests in, a subtle sheen glazing her eyes as she whispers words I cannot hear.

  She won’t cry right now, not in the middle of the day. Amira tries her hardest to stay positive, choosing to shed her tears at night when she thinks I’m sleeping.

  I want to tell her it's okay.

  It’s okay to cry.

  It’s okay to let her weakness out around me.

  But I don’t. Instead, I let her cry when she thinks I’m not looking. I give her that privacy and hope that eventually, her walls come down enough to trust me with her vulnerability.

  I back out of the room and come in again, this time my feet stomping harder, and my question asked louder. “You ready to go, angel?”

  I listen to her feet backing away from the fireplace mantle. Her little sniffles hitting my ear before she answers me.

  “Yeah!”

  Ignoring the break in her voice, I reach her by the door and hook my arm around her shoulders, walking us out of the house.

  “I turned Ash on his side, but I don’t know if he’ll stay that way. We should have propped him up against the couch or something,” Amira says as I hold the passenger door open for her.

  “He’ll be fine,” I reassure her. I doubt he has much left inside after witnessing all the shit that spilled out of him.

  Once we’re both secure inside the car, I take off down the road, wind flying through our hair as I roll the windows down.

  The drive won’t be long, fifteen minutes tops, but with Amira and I in the car, fresh air in our faces, the road rolling underneath us, it’s my favorite place to be. Chalk it up to being in jail and the fucking prison my own home was, but nothing feels more like freedom than driving with my girl.

  “Wanna know what we should do?” I ask Amira, turning in my seat to get a good look at her beautiful face.

  “What should we do, Roman?”

  “We should sell the house.” Her head whips to the side like fucking lightning, eyes widening in disbelief at my audacious suggestion. “When you’re ready! Okay!? When you’re ready, and we should buy an RV and live on the open road. Just me, you, and Shadow.”

  Before she can respond, another idea comes to my mind, a fucking better one too.

  “Wait! No! Fuck, this is better! We should buy a small yacht and live on the sea. Then, I can find us an island and make you my little island queen.”

  I think she thinks I’m joking, her laughter echoing in the car until she catches my stare through watery eyes. “Oh my God, Roman. Are you serious? We are not living on the ocean.”

  “Why the fuck not? It sounds perfect. No fucking past. No worries for the future. Just me and you, bobbing on the fucking water, surviving off of fish and crab with our dog until the day we die.”

  It sounds like a damn dream to my ears, but the way her mouth drops open in shock shows me she feels otherwise.

  “Roman. I can’t swim.”

  Shit.

  I forgot about that.

  Amira was never allowed to join Liam, Tommy, and me when we went cliff diving in the local quarry.

  I doubt she’s been in any body of water that hasn’t been her damn bath.

  “I can teach you,” I tell her as we pull into a parking spot at the
Grocery Hut.

  She declines my offer and steps out of the car, her head shaking in disbelief as she closes the door in my face.

  I vow to myself at that moment that Amira and I will die on the open sea. That’s where we’ll spend our final days. No one around to stare or question where we came from or why we were here.

  Just her and I.

  Soulmates.

  And nothing else.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AMIRA

  I would love nothing more than to live far away from the judgmental eyes of the customers in the market, but the ocean?

  Another state would be fine, or better yet, another country.

  “How about Canada? We could be Canadians.”

  “I’m a wanted criminal, angel. I can’t get a passport,” he whispers in my ear as I grab a cart from the rack.

  Right.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” I say, pulling my grocery list out of my bag as he takes the cart from my hands.

  Roman and I have been in Solime Canyon for a little over two months, and still, the residents here gawk like we’re animals at the zoo. Of course, it doesn’t help that we moved into my mother’s home right out of the blue. Or that she suddenly seemed to disappear.

  I never got around to registering my mother as dead. There are too many documents I need, and I don’t have the stomach or heart to go through her personal belongings just yet.

  I feel Roman tense beside me as a couple of older gentlemen let their eyes linger on me a little too long. Giving his arm a firm squeeze, I silently beg him not to make a scene.

  I can handle stares. As long as they don’t touch me, then I’ll be okay.

  “Stupid fuckers better keep their eyes in their fucking head, or I’ll have no issue fucking them up where they stand.”

  “Keep your voice down. We don’t need any more attention than we already have,” I say in harsh, angry whispers.

  Roman finally does as I ask and simmers down, the muscles in his forearms relaxing under my grip as he pushes the cart through the aisles.

  I always wonder what the point of making a list is since Roman never seems to follow it. He just grabs whatever he wants and throws it in the basket.