"I hurt you." As if he needs reminding, when the evidence is right there in the marks on his neck. Then again, this is Leo. He could probably get shot in the head by someone and still try to be their new best friend, the absolute nightmare that he is.
"Barely," Leo scoffs, so dismissive of the danger he's in just by being near my unstable, fucked-up brain, it makes me grit my teeth. He shrugs, squinting at me in annoyance, like I'm the one being difficult here. "Some bruises and cuts. Don't even pretend you were using your full strength. You could have crushed my throat, easy, if you wanted to."
I have to seriously resist the urge to take hold of his shoulders and shake him until either common sense finally kicks in, or his neck breaks.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, like a bull who has just about had it with this red-cape waving fuckery, I try not to shout in his face. "Could you, for two seconds, at leastpretendto have some self-preservation rolling around inside that whip of candy floss you call a brain?"
Leo doesn't seem in the least bit swayed, his expression hardening into a stubborn mask. "You're being melodramatic about this. It's not like you strangled me or anything. I've had worse from one-night stands."
A shock of white-hot rage surges up inside me at the idea of someone putting their hands on him with any form of violence. Letting random strangers take advantage of Leo's inexperience, pushing his limits and pressing bruises into his skin, taking him apart without knowing what the hell they have in their temporary possession, people who have no fucking clue how to put him back together afterwards. Leo's trust is not something anyone should take lightly. It's not something to be abused by motherfuckers who probably don't deserve to share breathing space with Leo, let alone access to his body in such an intimate way.
It takes every inch of the very little willpower I possess, as well as all the calming techniques Green drilled into me during our sessions together, to stop myself from screaming in the face of my partner's negligence towards his safety.
"Don't gaslight me, you fuck," I growl at him in warning, having reached my limit for this shit. "I choked you, and you just let me do it like the lunatic with a death wish you clearly are."
Leo has the genuine audacity to look exasperated with me. "Oh, come on—"
I move my hand to the back of his neck and drag him forward in one vicious yank, wrapping my free arm around his waist to press him up against me and hold him still, cutting off whatever nonsensical crap he was about to eject from his too tempting motormouth with a few harsh words of my own. "I’d kill anyone who touched you like I did yesterday, Leo." My voice is a deep growl I make no effort to reform into something more civilised, letting him see the animal thrashing just below the surface, constantly tearing at me to be let loose. "I’d fucking kill someone for even thinking about hurting you like that."
Leo's breath shudders out of him in an unsteady exhalation of air. It sounds more like a groan than outrage or fear at my proclamation I would kill for him. There's enough space between us, unacceptable as it is, for me to see how wide and blue his eyes have gotten. It's like lying on your back and staring into the sky on a clear day. It feels fathomless, like it could go on forever, like you could drown in mid-air, lost in all that pale blue.
"You can't kill people for their thoughts," Leo murmurs, his face creasing, unsure how to take my new line of attack in this debate.
"Fucking watch me." I give him an unkind smile, barbed and malicious. "I'm a freelance dictator. No trials in my world, bitch. Not when it comes to you."
Leo shakes his head in denial but belies the action by leaning into me further, bumping his forehead against mine. "Jack," he pleads in a strained whisper, hope and despair competing like he can't decide which to feel most about me.
He needs to know I mean it. "I've killed for far worse reasons and on behalf of far worse people. Putting a bullet in anyone who hurts you would be easy."
It's as close to being a vigilante as I'll ever get, which is still, thankfully, very fucking far away.
Leo pulls back far enough to eye me with heavy scepticism. "Thought you didn't do dramatic revenge bullshit?"
"For me, I don't. For you … well, I think I'd be willing to carve out a nice place in Hell for myself and all the pieces of shit I take with me," I say dryly. "Sorry if you were hoping I'd turn out to be a white knight after all." Or a good man. Or anyone other than an assassin with freak powers and the motherload of all psychological damage.
Leo doesn't look let down by the consolation prize, which is further proof he doesn't know what's good for him. I'm sickeningly grateful for it even as I wish it wasn't true.
"I've always had a preference for a solid anti-hero," Leo admits, mouth curving into a tender smile. It hits me like a roundhouse kick to the jaw, all power and no mercy.
"Still think I'm capable of redemption?" I ask him, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it said out loud to make it real.
Leo leans forward again and presses the softest kiss you could imagine to my lips, lingering for a few agonising seconds before pulling back. He looks into my eyes, sincerity shining from his every pore. "Always, Jack."
He says it like it's as easy for him to believe as firing lethal shots off to protect him would be for me.
As soon as the promise leaves his mouth, the tenuous hold I have on my self-control cracks like bone under pressure. I tighten my grip on the back of his neck and yank him forward the last couple of inches, pressing my lips to his in a biting, possessive kiss, my tongue pushing into his mouth and taking over the space like I want to conquer it in the name of my nation.
Leo falls into the kiss as if he was impatiently waiting for it to come to this, kissing me back with equal ferocity. He grasps at me, hands eager, his usual enthusiasm breaking through any remaining tendrils of restraint I might have tried to grab onto, like a fast-moving storm as he gives himself over without reservation.
It's yet another show of trust I have no idea what to do with.
I hook one hand around Leo's thigh and hike it up, wrapping his leg around my waist. This unbalances him and allows me to take him off his feet entirely. He manages to keep his lips locked with mine as I upend him onto the bed. I follow him down, not wanting to give up the connection we've forged via teeth and tongues and panted heat.
Leo opens up his legs to allow me to settle between them, giving into my want to drop down on top of him and use my weight to pin him to the bed. There's something about having Leo under me, held down and unable to escape, that settles a deep ache of fear and want inside my chest.
This is what I think about when I look at him and find myself wishing I could keep him forever. I think about all those people who go mad over wanting to have their lover tied to them in some way, either through more traditional means, with rings and signed certificates, or the less conventional, and more literal, options.
A thought occurs to me, and I can't make myself scrape it out, to dig at it with my fingernails until they bleed. Leo has driven himself into my brain like a sword into a stone. Unmovable. The stuff of legend. Like fucking magic. A dark, twisted power that claws and shreds and leaves traces of toxic chaos behind to infect and decimate.
