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“Own who you are,” he commanded. “And don’t apologize. Do you understand? Own it or it will own you.”
I gazed at the color that reminded me of Christmas and apples, roses, and rows of Autumn Blaze maples I’d seen as a kid. Of fire and hair ribbons and my mother’s evening dresses.
Damon Torrance. He sat in a cushioned chair, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, droplets of water glistening down his neck, arms, and torso—bare since he only wore a towel around his waist. He pinched a cigarette between his fingers and brought it to his lips, the ashen end burning orange as he inhaled. Then, just as I remembered, he blew it out slowly, letting it drift up instead of out, looking more like fog than smoke as it dissipated in the air above him.
“What do you see in me that’s so fucking fascinating?” I trembled, just holding his eyes. What did I see in him? The answer was so easy, I didn’t even have to think about it. It was the same thing he saw in me all those years ago down in the catacombs. The hunger. The need to break away, the desire to find the one person on the planet who would understand me, the temptation to go after all the things they tell us we can’t have . . . I saw me, and through all the times growing up that I felt alone or like I was searching for something I couldn’t put into words, I didn’t feel so lost when he was
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And I wanted that fact to stop hurting. I was so sick of dreaming. Sick of having forced a relationship with Trevor because I believed he would set me straight, and sick of wanting a nightmare that treated me like a dog. Sick of both of them.
God, what was she doing to me?
I was losing. When she was around, she made everything else small, and all I could see was her. All the years of misery she caused my friends suddenly didn’t matter, my focus blurred, and I lost sight of what she’d done and how my friends had suffered. And how she needed to pay. I hated her. I had to hate her.
“Don’t go there. I want our little monster, with her big doe eyes, kneeling at my feet, and I’m not waiting anymore. I’d like you in on this, but I don’t need you.”
Kai and I had never fought in the past. I shouldn’t have taken that shot at him. But for some reason, he kept challenging me, and I felt farther away from him now than when he was in prison. What the hell was going on? I expected Damon and Will in my face. Not Kai. In many ways, he was the same as he’d always been. The thinker, the reasonable one, the brother who always looked out for the rest of us . . . But in many ways he had changed beyond recognition. He never smiled anymore, he took courses of action he wouldn’t have in high school, even knowing the consequences, and not once did I see
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Damon was the exact opposite of Kai. He rarely thought about anything he did, and if someone put a wall in his way—justified or not—he came in swinging without hesitation or regret.
“Your nightmare is over. Hers is just starting.”
The one thing I’d learned about what it took to be strong was recognizing and acknowledging any weakness and then making adjustments.
You couldn’t be my brother because I had the one thing you wanted.” He paused and then continued. “And I hated you because the one thing I had wanted you instead.”
“So now that you got her to Delcour,” he went on, “finally all to yourself, and you do to her whatever it is you have planned, remember that I will get her back, and it will be me who puts a ring on her finger and keeps her forever.” “You think that hurts me?” I bit out. “It won’t be you I’m trying to hurt,” he threw back. “If that slut spreads her legs for you, I will make sure marrying me will be the nightmare of her life.”
Damon Torrance, son of a media mogul. Kai Mori, son of an influential socialite and banker. William Grayson III, grandson of Senator Grayson. And Michael Crist, son of a real estate developer.
“Don’t bother,” I told him, not even trying to hide my sneer. “I can make my own way home.” And I turned around, heading for my house. “We’re not taking you home,” he said, his voice dark.
I prayed that I wouldn’t have to watch them jump some poor guy who’d mistakenly offended them or witness them robbing a jewelry store.
“My dad collected matchboxes from restaurants and hotels when he went on business trips,” I told him, sliding open the box and bringing it up to my nose. “I took a liking to the smell. It’s like . . .” Without thinking, I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, the sulfur and phosphorous instantly making me smile. “Like what?” I closed the box and looked up, feeling lighter for some reason. “Like Christmas morning and sparklers rolled into one. I kept the collection close to me after . . .”
“I don’t even think they caught them all, did they?” “No,” Will said playfully, “I think there’s still a few running around loose.” “Like four.”
“Ree-ka?” she repeated, shaking my hand. “Hey, I’m Alex Palmer.”
Maybe it was the bullshit with Damon and Will or the run-ins with Michael, but the end of my rope was in my hand, and I was grasping for threads. I just decided to let go.
They’d all had each other’s backs tonight, and now they had mine. But they weren’t going to do my shit for me.
You’re not a victim, and I’m not your savior.
have? I was taught to be brave by my father. Dip your toe in every ocean and try everything and anything. Learn, explore, take the world on . . . And from my mom, I learned self-sufficiency. Of course, she’d taught me by default, but watching her showed me exactly who I didn’t want to be. And from Michael—as well as Damon, Will, and Kai—I learned to breathe fire. I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming.
“Men who hire escorts aren’t paying for the sex,” she corrected. “They’re paying us to leave when it’s done.”
“Some people aren’t interested in forming attachments or having obligations, Rika,” she explained. “I’m just a professional who’ll show you a good time and then not expect anything afterward.”
“After he comes,” he whispered, “and after he leaves you, leaves you wanting more and wanting everything you know only I can give you”—he snatched up my bottom lip between his teeth and let go—“is it my cock you think of when you slide those fingers in your pussy?”
Own it. Don’t apologize for who you are. Own it. You can’t win if you don’t show up, right?
“Run all you want, Little Monster,” he said, sounding like a threat. “We’re faster.”
I saw the little monster again. The one
who breathed fire and made people see her. I’d needed to touch her. I couldn’t think past that.
And then I walked out, proving one thing. He, Damon, and Will may have changed, but I hadn’t. I didn’t explain myself.
In the spider’s web of Thunder Bay, with its endless lies and secrets, its fake smiles and bullshit, I thought I’d found one person who was different. Who saw everything I wanted and craved it with me. My brother was right. I’d seen that look in her eyes long before I even noticed her face or her body. That look of something being contained and wanting to claw its way out. Rika and I had always circled each other, even before either of us was aware of it. And her betrayal was as close as I’d ever come to being gutted.
“When you want to make an impression and you think you’ve gone far enough, go a little further. Always leave them wondering if you’re just a little bit crazy, and people will never fuck with you again.”
knowing I was watching him, and I could see something different there. Maybe respect, or maybe awe. Or maybe he finally thought I was worth a damn.
“Yeah, they’re just matches,” I continued, my voice growing thick with tears. “And memories and smells and sounds and butterflies in my stomach every time I heard the car door slam outside, telling me that he was home. A thousand dreams of all the places I’d have adventures someday.” I took a deep breath, placing my hand on top of the box. “They’re hopes and wishes and reminders and all the times I smiled, knowing he’d remembered me while he was gone.”
“You have money and girls, cars and clothes, but I still have more than you in this little box.”
And the things that were irreplaceable in life were the only things of value.
Michael leaned in, his voice turning low and heavy. “And how about me?” I swallowed, still studying my drink. What song described him? What band? That was like trying to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life. “Disturbed,” I said, naming the band and still looking down at the glass. He said nothing. Only remained still before finally sitting back and tipping his drink up to his lips. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, and I kept my breathing even. “Drowning Pool, Three Days Grace, Five Finger Death Punch,” I continued. “Thousand Foot Krutch, 10 Years, Nothing More, Breaking Benjamin,
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You became aware of things under the shroud of night that you didn’t see in the light of day. The things people hide and how lax they become with their secrets when they think everyone is asleep.
“Don’t worry,” he breathed over my mouth. “She never notices anything. My father is faithful, Trevor is good, and I can be trusted. I’ll look out for my little brother’s girlfriend and keep her nice and safe in the light of day and not violate the fuck out of her in the dark.”
No, Michael. Your mask doesn’t scare me. It didn’t get me hot, and I hated it when you wore it.
“So you like the mask. You’re pretty fucking sick, aren’t you?” he teased. I nodded, a smile peeking out. “Yes.” He stroked my bare pussy with the head of his dick, dragging it up and down my slit. “Just like me,” he whispered.
“Such a beautiful little monster,” he whispered, his chest heaving.
“You didn’t come,” I said quietly. The corner of his lips curled, looking threatening. “We are far from done.”
I screwed up.
I leaned down, running the tip of my tongue up the length of her scar, feeling the jagged, thin line curve upward and give way to the smooth skin under her ear. It never escaped my attention how she hid it around my brother, as if it made her less beautiful. No. Our scrapes and bruises, tattoos, scars, smiles, and wrinkles told our stories, and I didn’t want a pristine piece of wallpaper. I wanted her and everything she was. At least for tonight.
This was my favorite place. It was weighted with history and filled with a thousand corners and small spaces.
This place felt more like home than any other.
Lifting up the mask, I slid it down over my face and walked slowly behind her. Stalking, not following.
