And I hit the ground, completely disoriented.
My head is swimming. I’m nauseated. What the fuck just happened?
Dimly, I hear the sounds of flesh on flesh. I brace my hands on the rocky surface and shove myself into a sitting position, with my back against the cold metal of the dumpster. I look around and realize what I’m hearing.
Brett is being held against the brick wall of the building by one of Flint’s tattooed hands, wrapped around his throat. Brett already has an impressive bruise forming around one eye, and it looks like his nose is broken, leaking blood in a river down his face. I’m pretty sure his lip is completely split, given the flow of blood down his face and over Flint’s hand. Despite struggling to breathe and his face turning an unhealthy color, Brett seems to be trying to talk his way out of this.
“She… fucking… asked… for it,” he wheezes.
“Oh, well now, that was the wrong thing to say. Entirely.” Quick as a snake, Flint reaches between Brett’s thighs, grabs what I assume are his balls, twisting and then squeezing. Brett’s eyes roll back in his head as he makes a sound not unlike a tea kettle come to boil.
“You will stay the fuck away from not only Casie, but this shop. Do you understand me?”
Brett squeaks out something that sounds like “my father” but it’s hard to tell.
“I don’t care who your family is. You will stay away from Casie. If you so much as look at her again, I will fuckingend you.” He says the last in a malevolent whisper. He pauses. “Nod if youunderstand.”
I hope Brett understands because I’m pretty sure he’s reaching the end of his oxygen, and I don’t have enough to bail Flint out of jail for murder.
“Flint.”
“One moment, princess. The men are having a discussion.”
I’m distracted enough by him calling my princess that I’m not even offended by ‘the men’ comment. And I call myself a feminist. Nothing like an attempted rape being interrupted by a hot male currently made entirely of rage for every ounce of feminism to completely leave my body.
Maybe I’m in shock.
Flint leans in close, whispering something that only Brett can hear. Whatever it is, Brett loses all of the color in his face. “This is yourfinalwarning.” Flint drops him in a heap. Brett tries to roll over and is able to at last get on his hands and knees.
Planting his boot on Brett’s ass, Flint pushes, causing him to faceplant. I dimly think,I hope he plans on cleaning up the streak of blood Brett’s face just made across the alley because it’ll upset Annemarie and I don’t think I should be responsible for cleaning up blood I didn’t shed.
Yep. Definitely shocky.
“Be happy you’re leaving with only a portion of what you ‘deserve.’ Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
Fear must be one hell of a motivator. His balls have to be screaming, but Brett manages to gain his feet and stumble away.
Flint follows until they’re both out of my sight. Funny — I’m never gonna get tired of how graceful he moves, like some powerful predator, stalking his prey.
My head is starting to swim again and I can feel my adrenaline starting to crash. I’ve never had an adrenaline rush cause hallucinations before. What the hell was that? I shake my head and, when that only causes the swimming feeling to get worse, I give up and rest it on my knees.
Suddenly, Flint is in front of me. He has his hand on my cheek and is drawing my head up to look into my eyes.
Another flash. This time I’m seeing Flint, but he’s staring at me with such wonder and love. He’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had. Like I’m his beginning and his end. I can see his heart shining in his eyes.
We’re standing in a clearing. The air is imbued with the gentle rustle of leaves from the red weeping willows, their branches cascading like a curtain around the secluded haven. The soft murmur of waterfalls provides a soothing soundtrack, blending harmoniously with the melodic songs of distant birds. As the sun dips below the horizon, it paints the sky in hues of amber and rose, casting a warm glow over the shimmering surface of the rivers.
He has one hand cupping my cheek and another wrapped around my waist. I realize I’m wearing some sort of leather breeches and a tank top of rough cloth. He leans down, whispering “I love you, Ash,” a moment before his lips touch mine.
“Casie?”
A flash of Flint kneeling before me, cupping my cheek. Then Flint, a bruise forming on his face, a cut across one eyebrow and what looks to be soot? Dirt? Smearing his gorgeous face.
“Casie?”
I come back to myself to find Flint still cradling my cheek, looking at me with concern. Nothing has changed. He is still crouched next to where I’m sitting in a dirty alley.
“Love, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
