Scars (Marked #2.5) by Lynch Marti, Elena M. Reyes Read Free Book Online

destruction before me, I eyed every square inch of my apartment. Made inventory of what could help me expel the demons I was fighting within. There was a war raging inside me, one that I could barely contain. It demanded blood and vengeance, but it wasn’t time yet. Things needed to be set in motion.
    Next, I walked over to my wooden coffee table and flipped it. Ashtrays filled to capacity, glassware, and my bottles of meds flew through the air. Then fell everywhere. It was a beautiful mess. Nothing was safe within the confines of my home, myself included.
    Wanted the bitch dead.
    There wasn’t a single piece of furniture left standing when I was done. Everything was broken…shattered and torn. Nothing could be salvaged, except for the picture inside a delicate frame next to the broken side table. It was the same picture that had captured Lance’s eyes earlier today while he surveyed the room. All I had left of our time together.
    I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it.
    We looked so happy in it. The way it should’ve been had it not been for Maya. Fuck, do I love that man. So much so, that I’d forgive and forget this indiscretion and work every day of my life to make him happy.
    Once I managed to regulate my breathing, I plucked my phone off its charger and scrolled through my contacts. Finding the number I needed, I pressed dial and waited. Three rings, and I heard the only voice outside of Talan’s that could make me smile at the moment.
    “Hello.”
    “Meet me at the coffee shop close to the tattoo parlor in two hours. It’s time.” A miniscule part of me felt remorse over what I was about to do, but Talan had left me no choice. Her lifeless eyes staring back at me were the only thing that could make this right. There was no other way.
    I’d lost too much in life and deserved some vindication.

7

     
     
    The small coffee shop near Talan’s tattoo parlor was nearly deserted when I entered. An older couple was its sole inhabitant. Off to the side they sat engrossed in conversation. Laughing, eating…oblivious to the horrors of the world that surrounded them.
    Never once did they look at me as I made my way into the small shop and over to the counter where the owner stood with lust-filled eyes. Asshole. We’d had an agreement for a while now, ever since Talan kicked me out. I sucked his mediocre dick, and he left me alone. No questions were asked while I sat for hours on end just watching, giving me the chance to fulfill that uncontrollable need to be closer to him.
    It was a good thing the old fuck was still attractive. Made things easier. No protruding belly, and all of his hair still sat atop his head. Somewhat hot and virile, the man was insatiable for me.
    “The usual?” he asked once I was in front of him. Always the same; I was a creature of habit if nothing else. With a small nod, I turned and sat down at my table and waited. Yes, this table was reserved for me…his beautiful little cocksucker. A shudder ran through me at that thought.
    This was the degradation I’d subjected myself to for the sake of love. But it was worth it, had to be.
    Donald always made sure that the table had something on it to discourage others from sitting there. The power a good blow job held couldn't be ignored. Men were ruled by their dicks. Dictated how they live their lives: how they work, eat, and sleep. A man with too much pent-up testosterone was a dangerous creature.
    Angry.
    Unfocused.
    Simply put, unpleasant to be around.
    Men lived for the feel of a woman’s lips wrapped around their girth, to hear her moan and choke as they stroke in deeper.
    “Here’s your food, sweetheart,” Donald said while he placed my beverage and scone on the table. He fidgeted, his hands clasped in front of his body. “I’m worried about you, Janice.”
    “Not you too,” I whined before taking a sip from my cup. The frothy caramel latte warmed me from the inside with a single sip. There was no stopping the quiet moan of