When we get to my condo, he parks, shuts off the engine and we both climb out, separating without saying another word to each other, him heading down the block to his townhouse and me down the drive toward my front door. He knows when to push, when to ask questions, we’ve been through enough shit together and I know it’s grating on him to try and find out. He’s a problem solver, a genius and not knowing something eats at him.
But this craving, this secret will remain locked inside of me, not even the most violent of torture could pry it from me.
Some people use alcohol to fight their demons. Some people lash out, others go for a walk or sit in a room alone and in silence. Me? I work my body until itfeels as if my muscles are about to tear through my skin and I’m covered in sweat while my lungs scream, and my body threatens to give out.
I count my reps, the weights in my hands getting harder and harder to lift but still, I don’t stop, my chin tilted to the ceiling, eyes on the light above my head. Beads of sweat roll down my temples, my hair soaked and sticking to my skin. It’s four a.m., the whole city is asleep, but I won’t be able to until I’ve pushed myself to complete exhaustion.
I have never slept well, I’m lucky if I get four hours a night and you’d think the fatigue would take its toll, but it never does so I do this night after night.
If it were only Savannah haunting me perhaps it would be easier, but there are many demons inside my soul, demons that have plagued me since I was a child, and they are relentless.
Unable to lift another rep, I drop the weights to the floor, the thud loud in the quiet room as I breathe heavily and sit up, elbows falling to my knees as sweat continues to fall off me onto the mat beneath the bench I am sitting on. My muscles throb in sync with my heartbeat and it takes a good five minutes before I can push myself to stand where I then trudge through to the bathroom, hitting the button on my shower.
As I stand beneath the spray, the hot water washingaway the sweat and grime, easing the aches in my muscles and soothing my heartbeat, I close my eyes, remembering her dance. So much elegance and grace, her feet moving effortlessly to the music. I hadn’t ever heard the song before, but I can remember the lyrics.
It pisses me off that she occupies so much space inside my head.
And yet once I am done in the shower, a towel knotted around my hips, I grab my cell and type the lyrics I remember into the search bar, hitting play on the first result that comes up and instantly know I have the right one. And then I keep it on repeat and fall onto my back in the middle of the bed and replay her private performance inside my head.
She’s as delicate as one of those ballerinas inside a jewelry box, ethereal and otherworldly like a damn fairy taken right off the pages of a fairytale book.
As sleep claims me, she follows right behind, not giving me a moment of peace, even in my dreams.
Chapter Three
Pint of ice cream and two spoons in hand, I join Sloane on the couch, grabbing the remote to hit play on the movie. It’s not cold by any means but Sloane still puts a blanket over the two of us as the movie starts.
Sloane has been my best friend since I met her in college five years ago. She was working in one of the bars on campus while getting her degree in early childcare education and even after I left to study online after I was picked up by an agent, we remained friends. I didn’t have many growing up, an overprotective brother with his overprotective friends meant people tended to steer clear of me. They meant well, they really did, and I understood with the lifestyles they lead. They think I don’t know what they do but I’m neither blind nor stupid. I see the blood and theguns, the shady looking men and the late-night meetings. They can pretend all they want but what they didn’t realize is that all that time I spent alone, I watched. I had no friends to keep me occupied. I saw what they didn’t want me to see.
I keep their secret though, because they are my family, and perhaps I should fear them but it’s not physically possible for me to be scared of any of them. I know my brother, I know Malakai, Killian and Dean, and while they may be the villains to everyone else, they would never be that for me.
They are dangerous men. Always have been yet they have an allure many cannot resist. Dean, with his quiet intelligence, who always watches, studies everything until no part of it is left unturned. He is the smartest person I know. Malakai who commands and leads, who has a presence you cannot ignore. He doesn’t have to say a word and yet he can bring a whole room to their knees. My brother, Sebastian, playful, charming even, but he holds so much anger and violence beneath that mask. He draws you in with it, makes you feel safe until it’s too late. God knows he’s used it enough times over the years to protect me.
And then there’s Killian, ten years older than me who wears many faces. He is quiet like his brother, but in a different way, it’s intense, he hears everything, sees everything and can have you spilling secrets without lifting a finger. When I first met the guys, he was the one who interested me the most. He’s changed over the years, become harder, his presence bigger, and yet in those dark eyes of his, swirling in the depths ofthem is tragedy written into the fabric of his being.
I had forgotten how much it hurt to look at him in the years I was away touring the world but when I returned, it had only become more poignant, an aura that shrouded him in a darkness invisible to the rest of the world.
Killian is a man who draws you in, like a moth to a flame. It’s dangerous but beautiful, a temptation that beckons with a gentle curl of the finger. It’s forbidden but perhaps that’s where the desire comes from, wanting something you cannot have.
“You good over there?” Sloane’s voice cuts through my thoughts, drawing me out of my daydream.
“Huh?” I come back to it, the pot of ice cream in my hand now soggy and dripping water onto the blanket. “Shit, sorry!”
Sloane laughs, “You zoned out for a minute there.”
I shake my head, “Sorry, busy day.” The lie rolls off my tongue, “Work started on the house, and it’s been chaos.”
“Everything okay?” Sloane grabs the remote and switches off the TV.
“Fine,” I wave a hand, “Just a lot to do and trying to make sure everything is okay when your house is full of builders is a whole new level of stress.”
She pouts sympathetically, “I bet but if anyone can wrangle a whole hoard of builders it’s you, let’s be honest.”
I scoff, “What do you expect me to do? Dance for them!?”
Her brow quirks, “Well damn, Sav, didn’t know you had it in you.”
My eyes narrow, “Stop it.”
