The Alphas left, slamming the door behind them.
I hate them.
Standing up, I tried to recall the precise order of adjustments needed to undo only the lower half of the suit so I could use the restroom without taking off the top and helmet. I worked slowly, hands shaking and anger bubbling, pulling the cinch at the waist that created a temporary seal. Next came the two layered zipper.
Blush burned my cheeks when I lowered the outer suit pants, then the leggings I wore underneath. I had to close my eyes, blocking out the world, to slip down my panties.
37
ASHER
The pitch blackness of this Nevada night wanted to swallow me whole.
I stood outside, puffing smoke into the chilly air. Each exhalation looked like a ghost, fading away into the dark after a few seconds. Peering upward, I saw nothing but ambient light and haze. Fucking Vegas and its nonstop neon; I couldn't see a single damn star. The cold penetrated my bones, seeping through the thin fabric of my white tee, but I didn't care enough to go back inside and grab a jacket. My sleeves were rolled to the shoulders, gray sweats hanging low against my hips. My boots were untied, laces trailing on the gravel. I was a fucking mess.
The night was still, save for the faint rumble of cars somewhere in the distance. I felt restless; I needed something to torch. Though setting something on fire would settle my brain and body, I didn’t pursue relief. It wasn’t that I had no target—I’d settled on a new one recently, a condemned building set to be demolished in a few weeks—but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the compound.
Why? Because there was a useless, weak Omega in the house.
My mind drifted to Lucy, the delicate, pale creature who’d so recently walked into our den of chaos. She looked like she’d rarely seen sunlight, her alabaster skin almost translucent. I wondered what it would take to bring some color to her cheeks. How quickly would a scorching summer day in Nevada affect her? I guessed mere minutes. She’d probably never even had a sunburn. I couldn’t shake the image of her with pinked skin turning redder and redder.
But the sun isn’t the only thing that burns.
That thought sent a surge of reckless desire through me and a delicious shiver down my spine.
I flicked the ash from my smoke into the gravel at my feet, then lifted the cigarette for another puff. Now, the building I’d chosen to torch fell away, replaced by Lucy.
She had an inner fire too—the way she’d pounded on the door to shut us up, the way she’d tried to hold her ground against me and Nitro, the way she’d glared down at those fucking buckets this morning. Oh, she could push back forever and never win against us, but that wasn’t her fault. She had backbone, beneath that fucking dumb suit. A backbone for breaking. An inner fire to douse. A woman who wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.
I tried to think of something else, but curiosity continued to tug. Lucy unsettled and intrigued me.
My hand holding the smoke dropped to my side. What did I want? Right this very second, what should I do?
I stamped my feet against the gravel, fighting against the cold seeping deeper. But it was marrow deep now. Nevada was the kind of place that should always be hot. These low temps felt all kinds of wrong; I still wasn’t used to the winter months after all these years. Thirty-four tonight, which might as well be a fucking freezer. My thoughts kept spiraling, the only things keeping me somewhat warm.
I took one last drag, letting the ember burn down to the filter before tossing it to the ground. I crushed it under my heel, grinding it into the gravel.
Wonder how she’s sleeping?
The question was unwanted. I didn’t want to know if she was comfortable.
Wonder if she’s cold too?
Who the fuck cares if Lucy’s cold!
She couldn’t stay here, I realized with sharp, sudden clarity. If she was already dicking with my head like this, then she was a problem. And I needed to do what I did to solve all my problems—turn them to ash.
I turned back toward the house, its dark welcome waiting for me. Each step closer made a knot form in my damn gut and my frown deepen. It was too bad Xander had been a relentless prick about the gas cans earlier. If they were still inside, I’d finally burn the house to the ground. I’d been saying I would for a long damn time. It was high time I made good.
Inside the house, I trudged through the darkened living room, feeling unmoored and alone.Why wasn’t I going straight to Lucy’s room?Why wasn’t I ripping the bandage off?
Taking out my lighter for comfort, I moved to sit on a barstool. Facing the kitchen, my gaze fell on the gas stove. That would do it, no fuel cans needed. Absentmindedly, I began flicking the lighter. Its flame was no doubt licking the underside of the bar counter, but I didn’t care. There was already several scorch marks hidden there, where the others hadn’t found them. They’d eventually see and one of them would bitch. If it was Nitro, I’d shove his face against the numerous knife gouges in the butcher block.
I missed my brothers, though we were all still under the same roof. We just didn’t spend a lot of time together anymore unless it was for work. Stunt planning. Test runs. Venue rehearsals. Allwork and no fucking play. When we were together, things often ended in a bloody fight. Not that I minded that. In the ring or out of it, I’d happily throw a punch.
Where were they all right now? I kept flicking, making the serrated wheel strike the flint, depressing the red tab, releasing it, starting over again. I had to really concentrate to remember that Kane jetted to Otto’s, probably digging for parts like his life depended on it. Nitro left soon after Kane, zero clue where that asshole went. Xander had gone to ‘bed’ hours ago and hadn’t reappeared. He wasn’t sleeping; I knew him too well. Fallon… the memorabilia room, working on new stunt ideas, because Cirque called around noon and wanted to push the envelope more. DemonX always pushed the envelope, as far as it would go, until it wasn’t even a fucking envelope anymore. The Cirque production team was really getting on my nerves.
Maybe I’d burn them down instead. Screw some building already on the demolition slate. Where did Cirque du Sang store their shit? A quick google search would probably give me an address.
