She’s always there. I can’t escape her, but I will try till my dying breath because I won’t betray my brother. I refuse to become like our fathers.
Blood covers me from head to toe when the last fight ends. The room has fallen into reverent silence. Five fights later, and I am not one bit calmer. Cursed to chase a relief for this unending energy coursing through my veins that makes me restless. I never find peace, a break, or even my place.
The people gathered for me in respect or terror—maybe a little of both—part when I exit the bloody cage, looking like the monster I am—caked in red and dripping with brutality.
Once I step out of the elevator, I head straight to my studio apartment connected to my office through a door on the wall behind my desk. It’s a spacious room with an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet.
Entering the bathroom, I slip inside the glass shower, and I brace my palms on the wall. The water pours down on me, washing away the blood but never my sins, while I am left to repeat a cycle that leaves me hollow—destitute to my bones.
There’s no cure to soothe my troubled mind, ease my guilt-ridden conscience, or comfort my bleak heart. The only one I know who could help, I have to keep as far away from me as possible.
Dahlia has no fucking idea what she asks of me—wanting me. Dangling her perfect body ripe for me to take a bite. But one taste would never satisfy me. I’d claw my filthy hands into herimmaculate skin and never let go, eating her alive—one whimper at a time until she’s a trembling, wet, and dazed mess wanting even more.
I wouldn’t stop, and no one could stop me either, until I am thoroughly sated. Parading her innocence that I am dying to rip apart—consume, corrupt, own. Watching me with those defiant eyes that scream inexperience but want to sin.
I am a man only in appearance. Under my skin throbs a beast. A beast that doesn’t care about right or wrong. A devil who would love nothing more than to corrupt her angelic self. A sinner who would get off debauching her.
I have never been the man for her and never will be.
I refuse to ruin her, even if in the end, not taking her will destroy me.
5
DAHLIA
My first attempt at seduction failed. Epically.
His rejection put a dent in my confidence. But this is Mika. Persuading him is not supposed to be easy. It won’t deter me from my plan, or I might as well raise the white flag and continue just as in past years—tethering to what could be, suspended above the possibility of more. I refuse. My heart has always been his. He might as well shatter it. Even that would be better than this permanent longing.
He will give me what I covet. Period. I won’t stop. I can’t. And then I will leave.
Maybe I acted childishly, provoking him by wearing that skimpy bathing suit. But I craved his reaction, not caring about the repercussions. That my brother might find out about my behavior. Worse would have been knowing the blood of innocent bystanders clings to me. Mika’s threat rings in my ears, sending a chill down my spine that is as scary as it is electrifying. He would have killed whoever saw me without a qualm. His possessiveness alone revives every battered piece of my heart.
It’s his fault. Loving him never felt like a choice, but rather destiny. I opened my eyes, and they set on him—irrevocably, irredeemably, forever.
Maybe I was too direct, and asking him point-blank to give me that dream of us for a few days was too risky.What if I lost my only shot?No, I know him better than that.
Sipping my wine, my left hand hovers over the black and white keys absentmindedly, the notes creating a jumbled mess that reflects how I feel.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s past 1 a.m., pulling me in two directions.
Continue playing or go upstairs and riffle through every camera in the city to search for him, needing to know he’s safe. The other side, the hurt one, thrives in pettiness. What do I care? He would have been here if he wanted. Instead, he ran away as if I were Pandora’s box, aware of what opening it could bring—the end of our world as we know it.
I even started a new job–watching the cameras in Reno at night–not only to keep me busy but to protect Mika and my brother.
Nothing is more detrimental to a man than feeling guilty. They would give you whatever you wished just to make it stop. My brother is no exception. So, when I asked for access to the city’s cameras to search for potential threats when I can’t sleep, he agreed. Not that I haven’t suffered from bouts of insomnia. I swing from one extreme to the other, like a pendulum—I either fall asleep exhausted, body, mind, and heart, or I stay awake until my brain shuts off, forcing my body to recharge.
Since Mika brought me back after being a captive for three days, monitoring Reno’s cameras was the only way to feel close to him, to watch how he was doing. In my way, I have protected the two men in my life by making sure no one gets too close.
I hit another note, switching from my ring to my index finger in rapid succession, creating a dramatic melody. I press so hard on the key with my little finger that the jarring sound yanks me out of my trance.
My eyes close not at the disrespect to classical music but because I sense he’s here. For someone so imposing, he is like a panther—silent, elegantly deadly as he stalks his prey until he’s ready to chase it to its perdition. You never see him coming, but I feel him in the furious beat of my heart, every sense electrified by his nearness.
“One of those nights?” he asks, tone soft but vibrating with anguish.
Right, let’s go back to pretending as if I didn’t lay myself bare to him just a few hours ago, only for him to dismiss me so easily.
I am so used to the ongoing agony, even the twist of my heart is common—a reminder of a past shrouded in pain and regrets. I knew I’d lost him before we could ever begin.
