Beretta (MC#1)

Chapter 20- Her

Leather and tobacco. My new favorite smell.

I'd lied when I'd declared washing powder my favorite smell in the world because even if I could dunk my head in a bag of washing powder for hours. I could stay here forever. For eternity. Clutching onto his jacket, my face resting against the reaper with a scythe sewn on the back of said jacket and my hair wild with the wind.

I hope he couldn't see me trying to sniff more of the smell. I wasn't exactly discreet.

"The beach?", I asked untying my boots impatiently. I'd forgone that sense of awareness of my surroundings as I always somehow managed to do in his presence. He made me want to live in the now. Not in the future. Not in the past. And that's why I forgot the world by his side.

"I asked around. Heard you like to come here often", those clipped words held so much weight and he didn't even comment on the gratitude in my gaze. He'd made an effort. Wasn't that what I wanted from the start?

"Let me", he said and bent his large form to kneel in the sand. I couldn't help but stare at his hair as the moonlight highlighted the dark, voluminous strands. Thankfully he didn't mention my ogling and worked on my stubborn boots. I'd somehow created a tight knot in the laces, and it would be short of a miracle if he got it out.

He silently slipped both the boots off my feet and stared at the black painted toes as I wiggled them. My breath caught when he finally met my eyes. Me astride his bike as he knelt in the sand and the sea waves crashing on the shore behind us.

A dream. That's what it must be- a dream.

Because he looked at me with the hunger of a starving man, with the desperation of a dying man. Like I could be anyone's savior. His eyes begged me, called out to me. For what? I have no idea.

He flinched when I stretched out my hand and I understood the reaction, that pure instinctual response. Doesn't mean it hurt any less. But then he snatched my retreating hand in his solid grasp and for a moment I saw the shadows behind his eyes and the sorrows marring his soul.

Slowly, so slowly I brought my hand towards his cheek as he watched me eerily silent and body calm like before the storm. I didn't fear the storm. Not one bit as my fingers hovered over the stubbled cheek of the broken man kneeling before me. I met his gaze, my eyes questioning while his told me he needed that touch.

"We're gonna be fine, brave man", I murmured, reassuring him. "We're gonna be just fine"

"I'll only drag you down, Beretta", he whispered, wetting his chapped lips and closing his eyes.

"Rose. For you- I'm always Rose", I reached out slowly and cupped his face with my other hand. "And no one has been able to drag me down. Not even the enemies and you are nowhere near enemy"

"I'm broken, Rose. No part of me is intact. And I don't want you to settle for the lost parts of me", I opened my mouth to speak, but he put up a hand. "A strong woman like you deserves someone to support you through your hardships. Not someone who needs support and help", my heart broke when he dropped his gaze to my toes again and I wiggled them subconsciously. I realized he did that when he felt himself unable to meet my eyes.

"I'm not asking anything of you, Blaze. Not yet", I said, caressing his cheek lovingly. "All I ask is that you don't push me away. Don't push away those who want to help you", I trailed off.

"Come", he took my hand and we walked hand in hand towards the water. Sand seeped through my toes and the humid had my hair damp and curly.

I didn't let go of his warm hand even when we sat down near the shore. Shoulder-to-shoulder in peaceful silence. He didn't mind my closeness. Maybe he thought he wasn't ready for anything, but his actions suggested otherwise. The way his body almost curled towards me and the firm grip of his fingers as if I was the lifeboat and he was drowning in a sea of insanity.

I didn't realize it then and a long time after that. Didn't realize that I'd drown with him with a fucking smile on my face- that I'd drown for him. Like he was the drug and I, the addict.

And we sat there in the dark, in the silence as if the universe wanted that moment undisturbed- cherished. Even the waves quietened, and it was just me and him. Me and his arm around me as I shivered in my damp crop top. Then his jacket over my shoulder and both of us leaning back against the dark rocks of the cliff nearby.

We didn't speak because we didn't need to. I understood all that he was and all that he wanted to be for me- all for me. I knew his silence and the look in his eyes. I knew it all. But if he said he was broken then we had to fix him first. If we couldn't then I'd take him as he was because he was perfect. With his flaws and his broody words and his tough ways.

Perfection. He was perfection. Or maybe I was a little off in the head.

"Home?", he asked after hours of silence the whisper sounded like a holler and I jerked.

"Home", I nodded, brushing the sand off me and then he clasped my hand in his again leading me to his bike.

Only later when he'd dropped me off to my apartment and I'd seen him drive off once I'd locked my front door did I realize my stupidity. I was supposed to be angry, to make him work for it and what did I do? Caressed him like a child in need of comfort. I was probably the most idiotic creature alive.

Then I dismissed the notion while shoving a large slice of frozen pizza down my throat, washing it with orange juice. Because he'd needed it. The assassin and the girl warred inside me- a rarity only occurring when Blaze was concerned.

How he treated me was just his go-to behavior with everyone that approached him. I didn't know his story or his reason for the way he acts but he'd tried today. Really, he'd shown me he needed help and that must've taken a lot. To accept that you need help all while being the Vice President of a feared motorcycle club was hard. But to display that vulnerability after a life of confinement? Yeah, that took courage.

That night I went to sleep with a calm in my heart and hope blooming in my chest. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, hope always wormed its way in. I was an imperfect assassin with too many feelings and a responsibility. They'd failed to beat it out of me and how I wished they had tried harder.

Because I was scared- scared of what was to come. Scared how this wave of destruction heading our way would sweep away all I hold dear; all I'd worked to keep safe. Fear always killed the assassin and I hated it.

Know what else killed the fucking assassin?

Stupid, stupid hope. 

A/N:

Sorry for the delay you guys. Eid had a lot of celebrations going around and I just didn't get time. Anyway... Happy reading!!

The beach up there^^^. Thought, predictions, criticism and even ideas for what you think should happen next are all very welcome. 

Love, Jare.