Fight On (Riders Of Tyr #3)

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Chapter 15: Sword Tattoo

Vik

Great! I just said out loud what I was thinking. She is beautiful. Now all I have to do to finish me off is ask her to go to prom with me. To my defense, I never really had that flirting/dating thing quite figured out. I knew when and how I was being flirted at but I never had to be the flirter. Smile and boom! Sexy times. That is pretty much my M.O. but since Lysa is immune to my smile, I am at loss here, going with my gut. Being around her, having her close confuses me.

Life was so simple before she showed up. I partied, had fun and fucked every night. Now everything seems pointless if she is not in them. More than a night of fucking, I enjoy training with her. More than having two girls in my bed, I relished watching her sleeping on it fully clothed. And through all this shit in my mind, one thought lingers. She is beautiful. And even more as she blushes under the candlelight making her olive skin tainted with a rosy color that provokes a groan from deep within me.

Arthur brings us our cocktails and I wonder how many years of hazing would I get if my brothers saw me with that in hand. Not to mention Tor’s and Bjorn’s third degree for the reasons I brought Lysa here. What were those again? my subconscious is mocking me. I have never, ever brought a girl here before and I wasn’t planning to. Alice is the closest thing I have to a mother and she doesn’t need to see me parade with countless of sluts. But when Lysa said she wanted to eat, I couldn’t think of any other place. Riiight, none of the thousand joints in the city, this cocktail has made my subconscious cocky.

“This is nice,” Lysa demands my attention and I give it to her. “This place is wonderful, the view is amazing and this Cuba Libre is the best I had.”

This must be the first time she has talked to me to say something positive. Either she really likes it here or Alice has spiked the Cuba Libre thinking I could never land a woman like her without some pharmaceutical help.

“Glad you like it. I aim to please,” I wink at her.

“So I’ve heard,” she wraps her lips around the straw looking at me.

Did Lysa just...? I blank out for a second, ambushed by the open innuendo. Pleasure, lips, wrapped. It’s a combination that does a real number on my concentration and I am already wondering how long would it take for Alice to forgive me if I fucked Lysa on the fucking table in the middle of her fucking restaurant. I try to control myself but I feel that my body is already leaning to her, throwing caution out the window, my cock in full attention.

Luckily, the food comes in and I can stuff my mouth before I do or say anything stupid. Though “stupid” isn’t exactly how I would describe the idea. Hot? Sure. Sexy? Hell, yes. Dangerous? Knowing Lysa, 100%. Still, there is something in me that wants to sit back, enjoy the dinner and talk with Lysa. Just talk. Just talk? I am sick!

I focus on my plate and end all wonderings of the mind. I have no idea that Alice is serving to her uptight clientele today but despite the posh appearance and fancy names, Alice knows how to cook and that’s the reason people drive across the bay to come here. I wonder how they would all react if the saw the rotter tattoo she has on the base of her back. I chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Lysa asks while tasting the spinach cannelloni.

“Nothing. Was thinking about tatts,” I shrug. “So, Rage told me he is designing some wings for you.”

“Yeah,” it’s her turn to shrug. “Daniel told me about it but I don’t know.”

“What’s troubling you? Other than this whole father-kidnapped, fight-in-a-cage shit. About the tatt.”

“I don’t know,” she puts her fork down and looks at the sea. “I haven’t got any tattoos, never thought of having one.”

I’ve seen her lily-white skin, spotless, smooth like silk, perfect to run your tongue over it. Concentrate goddamn it, I try but my cock seems super-concentrated on her every move, every run of her tongue over her fork, every slight movement of her body. I adjust myself in my jeans hoping she hasn’t noticed.

“Why not?” I cough.

“I guess it takes for you to know who you really are to mark your skin. And to be ready to let the world know too. All the girls in the cage had a few, a way to show how badass they were, to intimidate their opponent. I am not so big on the theatrics. Tattoos won’t be much help when my knee comes flying. Anyway, you don’t have a lot either. Compared to other Riders, I mean.”

“I got the arrow ’cause I am a Rider, I was born one, it’s part of who I am. This,” I touch my shoulder, “we did with Tor the same day years back. Stupid teenagers and shit. But I guess you are right. Maybe I don’t know who I am. Not who others think I am but who I really am,” I confess.

“How about that?” she reaches over the table.

Her finger touches my right arm and trails down along the sword tatt I have on the inner side. The sensitive skin wakes and inflames under her feather touch and my breathing becomes short and shallow. I have had my cock sucked a million times and never missed a beat but Lysa touches me and I am ready to blow.

“That I got when I killed for the first time,” my voice is hoarse.

She recoils instinctively but I am not ready to be deprived of her touch yet. I catch her wrist and hold it gently across the table. Her chocolate eyes glimmer under the candle light, her long hair framing her face perfectly. But it’s those damn puffy lips that got me captivated, enslaved, caged in an endless loop of wanting. I was expecting her to wiggle away but she doesn’t, she lets me hold her with her deep gaze in mine.

“Scared of me, Lys?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be.”

“And yet I am.”

That’s all she says before freeing herself and resumes eating the food before her. I study her and deep down I know that she is not scared of me because I killed a man. She is a clever girl, she suspected as much. She is scared of me for the same reasons I am pissing my pants right now, overwhelmed by all the emotions she wakes in me. But fuck this! I am a Rider, I face danger dead on, never turning my back on fear. I am going to fight. And win. Win her.

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