It's Irresistible

A part of her wants to ask Victor how he learned to cook, but the largest part of her is happy to just lean against the counter and watch him. He looks good being all domestic, and the smell of good food cooking is always pleasant. Not quite as pleasant as looking at Victor though. Even now, in his sweatpants and tee shirt, he’s standing perfectly straight and moving with care. Sometimes the light catches on the scars lining his left arm, and she has to bite down on her lip every time she notices something different about him. It’s frustrating. She has never wanted anyone like she wants Victor, and it’s confusing. She doesn’t want this feeling to away though. Not anytime soon.

“Set the table.” She jumps to attention at the sound of his voice, and his brow raises as he looks at her. Smooth, Bex. Real smooth.

“I didn’t hear the magic word.” When his teeth grind together, it causes a muscle in his jaw to twitch. What would that feel like against her lips?

“I’m not saying it.” She moves over to his side, manages to stop her eyes from rolling back in her head at the heavenly smell coming from the stove, and wraps her arms around his waist. He’s solid against her, lean and strong, and she wants to run her fingers over every inch of him. She leans up on her toes so that she can prop her chin on his shoulder, and her nose nearly brushes his jaw as he looks down at her.

“C’mon, Victor. It’s just one word. One little syllable. You can say that for me, can’t you? Just for me?” She purses her lips in a pout and bats her eyelashes, and Victor pointedly rolls his eyes at her antics. The hard way it is then.

She takes a slow breath, inhale and exhale, and then moves. She uses the hold she has on his middle to pull him away from the stove, and it only takes a little bit of strength gathered into her legs to leap into the air. Her hands push against Victor’s shoulders as she kicks off from the wall, and she’s able to slam his upper body against an empty space of countertop. She leans over him, so that her thighs are braced on either side of one of his, and layers her forearms across his throat. His pupils have dilated so that she can’t see the natural color of his eyes anymore, but his breathing is still even. Hands grip her hips, and he pulls on her before she can react. The friction that comes from being pulled up his thigh is delicious, but she keeps her focus on him. She puts more pressure on her arms as Victor holds onto her, and he smiles. Wide enough to show both rows of his teeth. She’s sure to anyone else, it’s a look that would be terrifying. She drops her torso down against his, limiting what little ability he has left to breathe, but he keeps smiling.

“I like this game better.” The words are quiet, strangled, but he still manages to pull her up farther. She shifts her right leg so that she’s straddling him properly, both knees braced against the countertop, and his hands are gripping are hips tight enough to bruise. He could throw her off if he wanted to, but he hasn’t even tried.

“So do I. Now, say the magic word so that we can enjoy the beautiful breakfast you cooked. Smells wonderful, by the way.” She moves her arms away from his throat and then watches his tee shirt stretch as his chest expands. After two deep breaths, the hold on her hips loosens.

“Thank you.” His hands slip under the shirt she’s wearing and move over her back, and the careful touch feels good against the old scar tissue. Hmm, maybe she can talk him into a massage at some point.

“You do have manners! I was starting to wonder. Come on now, Victor. Say the word and then we can spend the rest of the day playing.”

She laughs as she’s lifted into the air, and she continues to laugh as her back is pressed against the countertop. Her legs lock around Victor’s waist and hold him close to her, not that she has to worry about him moving away. He leans over her with his hands braced on either side of her head, and she raises her hands to his shoulders. Smooths them around to his back and then up to press against the back of his neck. She can feel something rough on the back of his neck, and she stops laughing but keeps smiling. Scabs from where her nails dug into his skin the other morning. Looks like she did leave her mark on him. Victor leans down and runs his nose along her cheek, and she holds completely still as his lips brush the shell of her ear.

“Please,” he hisses against her ear. Her toes curl against the small of his back at the tone he uses, and her body arches up so that only her shoulder blades are bracing against the countertop.

“Was that so hard?” He huffs a laugh against the side of her neck, and she rolls her eyes when she realizes that his mind is in the gutter. She moves her hands down to the countertop and pushes herself up, and Victor is forced to rise with her. He moves back so that his eyes meet hers, and she grins at him. “Food, now.”

“So bossy.” He makes a quiet tsking noise as his hands grip her hips again, and he lets her body slide against his until she’s standing in front of him.

“You like it.” She pats his chest before turning around, and she hears him laughing quietly as she pulls out plates. Then silverware on top of the plates. Two glasses last, left next to the refrigerator. She carries the plates out onto the patio and puts them in their usual places, and she passes Victor on her way back inside. She pours them each some juice and then sits in her chair as Victor divides the food between them.

“What’s our plan for today?” he asks after they’ve each taken a few bites. Well, he’s taken a few bites. She’s already finished her sausage and is moving on to her eggs.

“I was thinking we could be plan free today. We can be lazy together.” She smiles when he looks over at her, even though her cheeks are stuffed full, and he shakes his head at her.

“I’m not the lazy type.” After reclining back in her seat, she moves her feet over into his lap. One of his hands moves down to lightly grip her ankle, and she has to fight down a shiver as his thumb absently runs along the top of her foot.

“Neither am I, but I was thinking that we could turn on the TV and then not watch it.” She sees his face pull together in confusion before evening out, and she’s careful to give him her most innocent smile when he looks over at her.

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” Her laugh is startled out of her, but it feels good to laugh so freely. She hasn’t felt this light in years.

“I thought it might.”


Victor has Bex under him, strong thighs wrapped tight around his hips and hands clawing against his shoulder blades, when his phone rings. His teeth release the skin over the side of Bex’s neck as he groans, and Bex whines low in her throat as her hips push up against his. She’s been so eager and responsive under him, pushing up against him and demanding more, and he doesn’t want to move away from her. Her hands slip out from under his shirt as her thighs fall open, and her body shakes under his as she pulls in a few ragged breaths.

“Go answer it.” He doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to. With one last groan, he pulls off of her and grips the back of the couch with one hand. He uses the hold to push his upper body up and over the back of the couch, and he walks to the kitchen in long strides. His phone is sitting on the kitchen counter, and he quickly snatches it up just as it starts ringing again.

“What?!”

“Bad time, sir?” It’s Max, but he can hear Jade yelling in the background.

“This better be important,” he says. It’s enough of an answer for Max, and he can hear Jade huffing quietly. She has him on speaker, of course. He’s trained many people over the years, but Jade and Max have been with him the longest. They have learned how to survive in this world.

“You told us to look out for anyone talking about a new player coming into town and to tell you about it first. We’re telling you,” Max reports.

“He’s not very bright, and he keeps telling us we’ll be sorry. Can I kill him when you’re done?” Jade adds.

“Depends on what he says. Where are you?” Max tells him the address, it’s one they’ve used before but don’t advertise, and he promises to be there soon. He keeps his phone in his hand as he walks back into the living room, and he props his arms against the back of the couch. Bex is still laying down on her back, with her legs spread and her arms stretched over her head, and he wants to join her.

“Good news or bad?” Bex asks as she looks up at him. She bends one leg, and he reaches over to run a finger across her knee and then down her thigh.

“Depends. Two of my girls found a guy talking about a new guy coming to town. Want to go check it out?” Her smile fades as her lips pinch into a thin line, and he reaches up to lightly touch the lines between her brows.

“Just let me get dressed.” She’s already getting to her feet, and she moves around to the back of the couch to stand next to him.

“That’s unfortunate.” Her smile returns, and she leans up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek. Then she’s gone. He waits a few minutes before going upstairs, turns off the TV and tidies up the kitchen a little, to give her time to change. When he walks into the bedroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the perfectly made bed and tying her shoes. Purple jeans and a black tank top cover most of her body up, and the black leather jacket next to her will cover up the rest.

“Time to get changed,” she says and nods towards the closet. It doesn’t take him long to find something to wear. Socks, pants, shirt. He’s still buttoning his shirt when Bex joins him in the closet, and he doesn’t stop his movements as she studies him. When he’s done, she grabs his hand and pulls him back out into the bedroom. His holsters, weapons, gloves, boots, and jacket are on the bed. She slips on her own jacket before picking up his shoulder holster, and he moves as needed for her.

“You’re a strange one,” he remarks as she finishes dressing him. She’s the boss, so shouldn’t he be the one helping her? She seems to enjoy doing little things for him, and he’s not going to ask her to stop. It’s almost strange to admit, but he enjoys her doing little things for him too.

“So I’ve been told.” She smooths her hands across his chest and shoulders, and her head tips to the side as she looks at him. The move causes her hair to slip over her shoulder, exposing her neck, and he reaches up to touch the darkening red mark over her pulse point. It’ll be even darker by tonight. She smacks his hand away but then laces their fingers together, and he lets her lead the way down to the garage.

They take Bex’s car to the warehouse district, because it’s quicker than walking on foot or for him to get his own car, but he doesn’t park close to the warehouse they’re going to. They leave on foot from there, and Victor asks Bex to wait for his signal before he slips inside. No one comes down here, so there’s no reason to hide. Victor can see the man strung up inside the center of the warehouse as soon as he steps inside, and he’s still conscious. That’s good. Max and Jade are sitting on a metal table a few feet away; he can hear Max biting down on the hard candy that she favors, and Jade is humming quietly under her breath while tapping her booted feet against the table legs.

“I hear the boss man,” Jade says in a sing-song voice. It’s dark near the entrance, so the man can’t see him even though his eyes frantically search. His feet are quiet as he walks farther inside, but Jade has excellent hearing.

“You will pay for this! Whoever you are! You don’t know who you’re messing with!” the man shouts. Jade looks over her shoulder and grins.

“I told you he wasn’t too bright, didn’t I?” Jade asks as he steps up to the table. He notices the second that the man realizes who he is, because his face pales and his eyes bulge. He’s familiar with the look of fear.

“Looks like he has a little sense left,” Max says and slips off the table. Max is taller than most women; in her heels, she’s nearly as tall as he is.

“Thank you for grabbing him, girls. Take a few days off.” The two women exchange looks at his words, because he usually lets them stick around, but they don’t question him. They nod at the same time, even though they’re both looking at him now and not each other, and Jade slips off the table next.

“Later!” Jade makes like she’s going to walk into him before gracefully twirling away and moving around his side, and Max gives him a two finger salute before walking past him.

“Have fun!” A few moments later, they’re both gone. He needs to wait for a little while longer before calling for Bex, so he steps closer to the man currently hanging from the ceiling.

“I know who you are, and so does he.” Victor’s sure that was meant to be a threat, but the man’s voice is weak and he’s visibly shaking.

“But I don’t know who you are.” He taps a gloved finger against the center of the man’s forehead and then bares his teeth in a smile as the man struggles to move away. Strung up like that, he doesn’t have anywhere to go. He takes a step back and whistles, two short and one long, and the warehouse door opens. She doesn’t try to quiet her footsteps as she walks in, and the man tries to find her in the darkness.

“Another one of your whores?” the man asks when Bex finally steps into the light. This time Victor points his finger in the man’s face but doesn’t touch him.

“You’ll pay for that one later.” He looks down at Bex, but she’s looking at the man. Her head tips to the side as she studies him, and she raises one hand to lightly touch the man’s cheek.

“Who are you?” The hand on his cheek moves down to his chest, and the man’s eyes flick over to Victor before looking back down at Bex.

“My boss is going to gut you, and there’s nothing the freak behind you can do about it.” Victor looks down just in time to see Bex smile, and her hand moves down the man’s stomach and then slips around him.

“When we’re done with you, I’m going to tell Victor to gut you. Slowly. You’d be surprised at how long a person can live with their intestines hanging out, if the person knows what they’re doing. And, trust me on this, my Victor is very smart.” Bex pulls out the man’s wallet as he looks between the two of them, and Victor can tell that he’s putting the pieces together. He correctly assumed that Max and Jade work for him, but he’s wrong about Bex. Victor works for her, not the other way around. Bex holds up the opened wallet, and he reads the man’s name from his license over her shoulder.

“Mark Johnson. How unoriginal,” he drawls and meets the man’s eyes.

“It’s not like he chose it, I think. Did you choose your name?” Bex tosses the wallet onto the metal table behind them and then turns to face the man again, and the man looks like he’s getting ready to pass out.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Now, Mark, who do you work for?” The man’s jaw drops, but Bex raises a finger in the air before he can speak. “Before you answer, I want you to think very carefully. If you say something sarcastic or annoying, I’ll let Victor do whatever he wants to you. He can hurt you in ways that you can’t imagine without killing you, so answer wisely.”

“You’re taking the fun out of it,” he whispers to Bex. The man’s eyes widen as he gulps nervously, and Bex laughs as she reaches over to pat Victor’s shoulder.

“He’ll kill me,” Mark chokes out.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ll kill you. In a few days, after Victor has had his fun. Right now, you need to decide how you want to die. I can make it quick if you just answer my question. Who do you work for?” The man’s eyes bounce between Victor and Bex, and his breathing increases as he begins to panic. After a few moments, Bex huffs and grabs the man’s collar to give him a quick shake. “Today, please!”

“G-Gavin Weatherford!” Bex turns her head to look over at him, and he shrugs.

“So that’s how he stayed off my radar. Different last name.” She turns back to Mark and shakes him again. “Does the name Gavin Hawthorne mean anything to you?”

“I d-d-don’t…” The man trails off as he pales further, and he swallows before trying again. “He is changing his name to Hawthorne. He’s the lost son of Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

“He should have stayed that way. He could have had a nice long life. So, what’s he planning?” Bex releases Mark’s collar and takes a step back, and he quickly wets his lips before answering.

“He wants to take over Gotham, now that Falcone is gone, and he wants to find the person who killed Nathaniel Hawthorne.” Mark’s eyes move over to look at Victor, and Bex looks up at Victor before looking at Mark again.

“He thinks that person is Victor?”

“Everyone in Gotham’s heard of Victor Zsasz. Falcone’s personal assassin. Who else would’ve done it?” Bex’s eyes meet his just as they both start laughing, and Victor drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her against his shuddering side. They’re both still laughing when Mark shifts, causing the chain to rattle, and Bex uses her fingers to wipe away the few tears clinging to her cheeks.

“Who else indeed?” Bex mumbles quietly, mostly to herself but still loud enough for Victor to hear. “One last question, Mark. What do you do for Gavin?”

“Whatever he asks. I’m getting his house ready for him and keeping an eye on Zsasz’s movements. I haven’t been doing too good with that second one.” Victor hums in the back of his throat, because he knows that no one has been able to track him. One thing that he excels at is staying under the radar, staying out of sight.

“Very good job, Mark. You just hang in there while I have a word with Victor, okay?” Mark nods as Bex grabs his wrist and pulls him over to the metal table, and she easily pulls herself up to sit on top of it. Once she’s sitting comfortably, she pulls on him so that he’s standing in the open space between her thighs. Her hands slip under his jacket and slide against his chest, and he can feel her fingers tapping against his shoulder holster.

“What are you thinking?” He can see her mind working behind her dark eyes, and she squeezes her knees against his sides for a brief moment.

“We should use this guy. He can keep reporting to Hawthorne, but we can control what he reports. In between reports, you can work on him. Make sure that he stays loyal to us, for now, you know?” This guy seems a little weak minded, so he should be easy to work over. Three weeks, tops.

“What should he report?” Bex’s hands still against his chest, and she looks over towards Mark.

“What does he want to know about Victor?” she asks him.

“Where he goes, who he’s close to. Things like that,” Mark answers quickly. Most people need a few extra pushes before they start telling all, but this guy hasn’t needed any help at all. Bex looks over at Victor, and her left hand moves up to cup his cheek.

“He’s looking for loved ones. Classic revenge, I can respect that. Do you have any loved ones, Victor?” Her left palm is rough, definitely scar tissue, but the hold is gentle. Soft, like her voice.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“Then we’ll have to give you one, but we’ll work on that later. Your girls, do you trust them?” Some of the newer ones, not so much.

“I trust Max and Jade. They’re loyal to me and only me.” He pulled them out of Gotham’s gutters; he fed them, clothed them, put a roof over their heads, and gave them purpose. He gave their lives meaning, and that makes them his.

“Are they half as good as you?” They’ve been with him for the past four years. His first students, his favorites.

“At the least.”

“Good. Call them here.” He told them they could have a few days off, but he also knows that they enjoy working. After a quick smile for Bex, he pulls his phone out and calls Max. He hears Jade laugh when he gives the order for them to come back, and Max promises to be there soon before hanging up. He slips his phone back into his jacket pocket, and Bex places her hands against his chest again.

“What do you want me to tell them?” he asks her. She thinks it over for a moment, and he watches her eyes move as she walks her fingers up and down the buttons on his shirt. After a minute, she answers him.

“Everything. If you trust them, I do too.”

Five minutes later, Max and Jade walk back into the warehouse. They must not have gone very far when he sent them away, and he looks over his shoulder as they walk closer. Two pairs of dark eyes take in the legs dangling on either side of his body, and their eyes widen just a little when Bex leans around him to wave at them. He waits until they’re standing only a few feet away and then he moves to sit on the table next to Bex. She doesn’t reach out to him, but she does scoot over so that she’s pressed up against his side.

“Got somethin’ you wanna tell us, sir?” Max asks. Jade is smiling at the two of them, and both women have their arms crossed.

He keeps the explanation as short as possible. He tells them who Bexley Barba is, to start with. The assassin that took down the Hawthorne family is back in Gotham, and he hears Mark make a strangling sound as he tells that part. Max and Jade both look impressed with that information, because everyone in Gotham knows about the complete destruction of the Hawthorne family, but Bex doesn’t see their looks because her eyes are closed as she rests her head on Victor’s shoulder. After that, he moves on to more recent events. He tells them that Don Falcone himself sent Bexley to Gotham to help out Cobblepot, and that she’s only here to make sure that Cobblepot doesn’t fail. He tells them about Nathaniel’s son from his second wife, the one that no one knew about, and that he wants to return to Gotham. Bex wants to kill him for her own personal reasons but also because he poses a threat to Cobblepot. He needs to be dealt with, the sooner the better.

“Yeah, we can work him over for you. No problem,” Jade says and grins over at the man still hanging from the ceiling.

“Any questions?” Jade shakes her head, but Max looks between him and Bex carefully.

“Just one. Which one of you is the boss?” Max asks.

“She is.” Victor answers without hesitation, and Bex reaches over to lightly squeeze his hand. When he looks down, Bex has her eyes open and is smiling up at him.

“Two psychopaths sittin’ in a tree, K-I-L-L-I-N-G,” Jade sings quietly.

“I like her,” Bex whispers.

“Can you sing?” Bex looks away from Jade and straight ahead at Max, and her eyes flick up to meet Victor’s before returning to Max.

“When I need to. Why?” The woman against his side sings constantly, usually off-key, but he’s heard her sing properly as well. When she sang for Joey Solomon, she sounded like a professional.

“Cobblepot’s been lookin’ for a new singer down at the club. It’s the perfect place for you to publicly catch Mister Zsasz’s eye. Don’t you think, Miss Barba?” He needs to publicly care for someone that Gavin Hawthorne can use against him, and it makes sense for Bex to set herself up as bait. Even if someone manages to grab her, she can handle herself.

“I like her too,” Bex whispers before straightening up. “Do you know what that means, Victor? We get to meet for the first time all over again!”

“And we get to play with him, right?” Jade asks hopefully and jerks her thumb in Mark’s direction.

“You do. I’ll be by tomorrow. Soften him up for me?” Jade’s grin is nearly shark like, and Max turns on her heel to smile at the hanging man.

“We can do that,” Max purrs.

“Stay or go home?” Victor looks down at Bex as he asks the question, and he watches her think it over. It doesn’t take long, and he knows the answer before her lips part.

“Home, please.” He nods before slipping off the table, but he moves to stand between Bex’s legs instead of walking off. He keeps his back to Bex, and he feels her hands lightly resting against his shoulders for just a moment. The next moment, her arms are looped around his shoulders and her legs are wrapped tight around his middle. His hands tightly grip her thighs, just above her knees, as he pulls her off the table.

“Call me if he says anything interesting.” With that last request, Victor walks out of the warehouse. He can hear Bex humming quietly in his ear, but he doesn’t know the song. He doesn’t even know the genre.

“I’ll have to come up with something good before the audition. How do you feel about redheads?” When she goes out, she dresses in different costumes. Wigs, clothes, makeup. He’s seen her change absolutely everything about her appearance, so much so that he could barely even recognize her at times. It always makes him feel…unsettled.

“No one in Gotham knows who you are, so don’t change anything. Be Bexley.” Her hum is tuneless this time, and her finger flicks against the top button on his shirt.

“Why?” He can give a list of practical reasons, or he can be honest. To both of them.

“If we are going to be real, in front of everyone, then I want it to be real. No disguises.” For this to work, they are going to have to be very public. If he has to be so open with his affections, he wants to be able to see the real Bex. Not some strange persona that she’s wearing.

“You’re kinda sweet, Victor, you know that?” She smacks a kiss against the back of his head before settling against him again, and he smiles as the car comes into view.


Later that night, Bex shuffles nervously and pulls at the hem of her shirt. She’s not used to being so exposed outside of her home base, and she keeps running her fingers over her bare arms. After getting home, she called Oswald’s and asked about a singing position. The deep voice had told her to swing by around six, before the club opened, and she had agreed. At Victor’s request, she decided to go as herself. Well, mostly as herself. The name on her license says Bexley Cavanaugh, just to be on the safe side, but she hasn’t changed anything about herself. Her hair is down around her shoulders, in slight waves, and held back with a simple pin. She’s still wearing her purple jeans from earlier, and they’re ripped in a few places to show unscarred skin. Her tank top is black, simple, and shows off a lot of skin. Her arms are bare as well as the top of her chest, which means that she’s showing off a lot of scars and tattoos.

She’s not ashamed of her body, but she knows how people think. She likes covering up so that she can’t be easily recognized, but she also likes avoiding the stares and whispers. Still, Victor told her that he prefers her like this. In her own skin. He’d been very adamant about that, and thinking about his reassurances causes her cheeks to heat up. She lets the bottom of her shirt go and smooths it out against her stomach, because the hem stops right at the tops of her jeans. She paces the length of the room, because she hates waiting, and she thinks back to earlier. Before she came to Oswald’s.

“I’m wearing the jacket.” She looks over at Victor after she says it, and he slowly shakes his head. He’s sitting on the bed, on top of the blankets, with his back propped up against the headboard. His boots are off and next to the bed, and his legs are crossed at the ankles with his arms crossed over his chest. “But I’m all mangled.”

“Come ‘ere.” He crooks a finger at her, and she toes off her shoes before crawling onto the bed. Instead of moving to the space next to him, she moves a leg over his lap and sits on his thighs. His hands raise up and gently grab her right forearm, and he moves her arm up in front of his face.

There are several puckered scars in seemingly random intervals around her right arm, from just below her elbow to nearly the top of her shoulder. The scars are faded and white, but the skin around them is raised and rough. Victor’s bare fingers move over the ones on her bicep, and she can see the question in his eyes. The question that he won’t ask, not right now, out of respect. It’s that look of respect that does her in.

“Barbed wire. I got caught in it but didn’t have time to remove it, so it cut a little deeper every time I raised my arm to keep fighting.” His fingers sweep down to just off the center of her right forearm, and his fingers wrap completely around her arm. Two matching scars, a smaller one on the inner part of her forearm and a larger one on top of forearm, both a pale pink color now. The scars are self-explanatory. Bullet wound.

“And these?” His hand is circled around her wrist now, and the skin there is truly ragged. Scar tissue completely covers her wrist, both of them actually. Scars that come from more than one incident.

“Ropes and wires. I was restrained quite a bit before I learned how to avoid getting caught.” At that, he releases her right arm and raises her left arm. He touches her wrist first, feeling the nearly identical scars there, before pressing his thumb against her palm. That scar is white and shiny, smooth around the edges but rough in the center, and she answers his question before he can ask. “I grabbed a hot poker. Not my smartest move, but it was better than the alternative.”

“Your chest?” he asks as his fingers run up her left arm. Down the center of her sternum, there is a thick scar from the same hot poker being dragged down. She’s not sure where the poker was going to go next, but she wasn’t going to sit around to find out.

“Mhmm. Those came from a knife. Defensive wounds. I decided my arm was better than my face.” There are several scars streaked down her left forearm, from where she raised her arm to fend off attacks, and the different lines have turned white over the years. Some rough, some smooth. All reminders.

“Hot poker?” Victor’s fingers lightly press against her left bicep, where a large burn is, and she looks to watch his pale fingers move over the dark pink scar tissue.

“Stove. I got dragged across it. That’s where the burn on my thigh comes from too.” His hand sweeps over her shoulder and then rests against her chest, where a little bit of a scar is left uncovered. So she tells him about the mistress’s guards and how the last one ranted about carving out her heart before she killed him.

“You’re a masterpiece.” She snorts at that, quietly, and Victor raises her right arm again. He lifts her arm as he lowers his head, and her breathing slows as his lips slowly travel the same path as his hands. By the time he reaches the top of her chest, her breathing has sped up and her fingers are tightly gripping the front of his jacket.

“A masterpiece, huh?” The sound of her breathless voice makes her want to laugh, but Victor’s lips are still idly moving across the scar on her chest.

“Mmm, you don’t think so?” She unclenches her fingers and moves her hands to Victor’s shoulders instead, and she inches forward just a little bit more.

“I think I was an angry little girl, desperate for revenge and more than a little psychotic, and I was sloppy. These scars remind me to never let my guard down. I’m surprised I’m still alive,” she answers honestly.

“Do you know what they tell me?” His hands are under her shirt, palms flat against her back, and she arches back into the touch.

“What’s that?” She wants to stay here with him. Wants to kiss him until she doesn’t know up from down and then curl up against him to sleep. She depends on herself, first and foremost, but there’s something about Victor that makes her feel safe. Maybe it’s because she knows that he’s just as capable as killing as she is.

“I already knew it took determination to kill the Hawthorne family, but every scar tells me just how dedicated you were. Others would have given up or found another way, but you didn’t run. You embraced the pain and kept fighting. Every mark tells a story. Every part of you is art.”

“Such a sweet talker.” She gently holds his jaw with one hand, to raise his face to hers, and she smiles a little before leaning down to kiss him.

“Cavanaugh!” Bex snaps out of the fresh memory as she looks over at the doorway, and she can still feel the hard press of Victor’s fingers against her thighs as she looks up at the large man looking her over. “Not bad. You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” The man leads her out of the room and towards the main part of the club, and she moves over to the center of the stage at his insistence. The only people in the bar are the man who fetched her and a much smaller man, and she knows who they are. Butch Gilzean and Oswald Cobblepot. It looks like things are about to get interesting.