by Smoke , Lucy
"Leave Eastpoint," I tell her. "And before you get an idea for revenge in your little head, let me warn you. No matter what happens, no matter what you try or think you can do, I will find you, and I will make this”—I pause and gesture around—“look like a makeover.” It was in a way, a really fucked up makeover. “Don't ever come back. Don't ever fucking think you can take me. And Kate?” She sobs hard as I speak, but I know she’s listening because she knows if she doesn’t, I’ll make good on every threat and every promise. “Just remember, if my name is in your mouth ever again, you better be prepared to choke on it.”
With that, I turn and unlock the door, yanking it open to a crowd that's gathered in the hallway. A tall, skinny-looking guy stands at the forefront, and when he glances inside the bathroom and sees Kate on the ground, in a messy puddle of tears, blood, piss, and cut hair, his eyes widen.
"Here," I say, slapping the ponytail in my grip against his chest. "You can have this."
His hands go up to grab whatever it is that I've just given him, but when his eyes go down to it, and he realizes what it is, he drops it to the ground in disgust. I push my way through the crowd, closing up Dean's pocket knife as I go.
I feel like I'm making my way free of the crowd when people start to part, but that's not the case. I glance up halfway through and find Dean, Abel, and Braxton standing there. Dean's got his arms crossed over his chest, and he takes in my appearance. The blood and scratches on my arms. The little pieces of hair sticking to my hands and shirt. And the shit-eating grin on my face.
The gazes of the people surrounding us burn into the back of my head. He arches a brow. "Get what you came for?" he asks.
I shrug. "I did what I needed to do," I reply.
He keeps the tough guy act up for a moment longer before softening. His arms uncross, and he reaches for me. "Ready to go home then, baby?" He pulls me towards him.
My smile widens as his hands go down to cup my ass. I can feel a ripple of shock go through the crowd. Dean Carter is claiming me. I lean up on my toes and brush my mouth against his.
"Nah, baby," I reply. "I'm ready to party."
27
Avalon
When Dean sees the damage I did to Kate, he doesn't even flinch. One of her friends from earlier had apparently retrieved someone's jacket—likely to hide the dirty mess of her dress even if there is no hiding her face and hair. She clings to it as they hurry her through the rest of the party and out the door.
After several long minutes of confused silence, and several glances to where the Sick Boys and now I sit, Corina's heels click on the solid wood floor as she comes to stand right smack dab in the middle of the giant media room that overlooks the pool, and claps her hand. "Party's still on, guys!" she shouts. "Either drink and dance or get the fuck out."
She turns and meets Dean's stare over my head. I glance up at him and then back to her just in time to see her nod and then lower her eyes to me. I frown, but she just merely shakes her head and strides back towards the backyard and the rest of the party.
Braxton sits back and whistles. "Damn girl, you went hella crazy on her ass," he says with a wide grin.
I did. Even as Kate had practically run through the house, there'd been no disguising the absolute wreck I'd left her in. Her hair was gone. Oh sure, because of the ponytail, she still had long strands surrounding the outside of her head, but the back end was completely shorn. She'll be lucky if she even manages a pixie cut with fringe. She can make her hair look presentable. She can even make it look purposefully done, but she and everyone here will know the fucking truth. I did that.
I didn't just take her hair. I took her fucking dignity. Her pride. The very thing that makes her feel beautiful. I took it all away, and if she crosses me again, she'll find out that I can take so much more away. Next time, starting with her life. I've already killed once. I'll do it again.
"You're starting to really shape up," Abel says with a grin as he catches a girl passing by, wraps his hand around her hip, and pulls her straight down into his lap. "You're starting to act like a real Sick Girl."
"She's always been a Sick Girl," Dean says quietly. I jolt at that comment and look up at him, into the fire of his burning brown eyes. "It just took us a bit longer to figure that out."
I don't say anything to that. Instead, I slide out from beneath his arm and stand up.
He watches me as I turn and glance back. Music pumps throughout the house, a rock beat that's all sex and drugs and fucked up emotions. I face him once more and hold out my hand. Brax stares between the two of us, but Abel is far too concerned with his new giggling blonde sexpot. She moans as he slips his hands between her thighs and up her dress, and the sound appears to make Dean move.
His hand grips mine and tightens as he lifts up from the couch. "Where're you two going?" Brax asks knowingly.
"We're heading out," Dean says. "Don't wait up."
"Wait, how're you—" Abel says, lifting his head away from the chick's throat.
"Keys," Dean cuts him off, causing Abel to groan.
Abel fishes around in his pocket and tosses the keys our way. Dean reaches out and snags them from the air without looking. That shouldn't be as hot as it seems, but it so is. Braxton relaxes into the couch cushions, his arms lifting to rest against the back, spreading out long enough to take up damn near the whole thing.
"Hey, sweet thing, why don't you show my friend some love too." Abel's stage whisper makes my eyes roll as I take a step back, pulling Dean with me.
Just before we turn and leave, I catch sight of the blonde chick turning and eyeing Brax like he's a premium steak dinner and she's starving. "Send a car after us," Abel calls out as Dean turns me and ushers me into the hallway.
Neither of us speak as we leave the house and head back to the Mustang. When we get back on the road, Dean leaves the top down as he holds the wheel with one hand and with his other, reaches over and curves it around my thigh. I bite my lip hard enough to make it sting. It's just his hand on my thigh, but it feels like more. My pussy tightens, and I just know wherever we're going next, it's going to involve getting down and dirty. The wicked little monster inside of me opens her eyes and smiles.
No fight. No cliff diving. No anything gives me as much of a rush as fucking Dean Carter.
* * *
We don't go back home. Instead, Dean drives us straight towards the mountains and the beach—just like the first time he'd driven me out here alone. Only then, I'd been on the back of his bike. He pulls off to the side, along one of the cliffs' edges, and cuts the engine. The lights die, leaving us in darkness except for the moon.
"What you did tonight was fucked up," he says.
The need for adrenaline burns in my chest. "So?" I challenge.
Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and turns towards me, his hand doing the same to mine. I let the belt slide off my chest as I meet his gaze. I frown when he doesn't say anything more. "You said you'd back me up," I tell him.
"I did," he agrees.
"Are you going back on your word?"
"Absolutely not," he says.
"Then what's the problem?"
He looks at me for a moment more, not saying anything. Then he reaches beneath the seat and shoves it back as far as it'll go. He pats his jean covered thigh. "Come here, baby," he orders.
For a long moment, I stare at him, unblinking—trying to figure out what the fuck is going on in that head of his. Trying to figure out Dean Carter, though, is like trying to decipher an alien code. In a word: impossible.
My body shifts before I've even fully acknowledged that I'm doing this—following his fucking orders—but by the time my brain catches up, I'm already slinging a thigh over both of his and staring straight down into his gaze. Dean's hands settle on my hips, urging me down over his lap. This close, I can feel the hard ridge of his erection. The only thing separating us is our clothes.
"Do you know how gorgeous you are, baby?" he asks. The skin over my face tightens. I turn my
eyes out towards the ocean, but he's not having it. His fingers find my chin and bring me back around. "The violence in you is such a fucking turn on," he tells me. "I'm not mad about what you did tonight. Kate deserved it. Even if she doesn't realize it, it's her fault you were raped—that's what you're thinking, right?"
My stomach rolls at the reminder, and yet, of course, only he can really understand what I'm thinking. He might be an enigma to me, but I bet I'm an open book to him. He doesn't seem upset when I don't answer. Instead, he keeps talking.
"If she hadn't staged that photo—hadn't sent it to me—then our fight wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have been an asshole and driven you away. You wouldn't have stolen Abel's Mustang—still can't believe he forgave you for that; he fucking loves this car." He chuckles but then goes right back to the storyline he's laying out for me. "And you would never have been back in Plexton, alone with Roger Murphy."
He's absolutely right.
"You need the anger and the violence, don't you, baby?" The question is whispered against my neck as he leaves my chin and leans close to press a kiss to the hard beat of my pulse there.
"Yes," I croak out a response.
He nuzzles my throat, the heat of his breath puffing against my skin, sending shivers cascading down my spine. "I know you do," he says. "And I want to give you everything you need. I want you to trust me. Rely on me. Seek me out. I want everything."
What if I can't give you everything? What if I'm too goddamn broken for that?
"Oh, you're not broken, my sweet, savage girl," Dean says. Shit, I hadn't realized I'd said that last bit aloud. "You're only broken if you let yourself be broken. And you, Avalon Manning, have never been broken."
I reach up, hesitating for a second, but the draw is just too much. I let my fingers sink into his dark locks, and I tighten my hold, pulling his head back so that I can look, once more, into his eyes. "Then why won't you tell me the truth?" I ask.
A scowl overtakes his face. "I do tell you—" he begins, but I cut him off with a shake of my head and a deep frown.
"The hotel," I said. "Did you think I wouldn't realize? I don't fall asleep that fast, asshole. You drugged me."
His hands squeeze against my sides. "It was for your own good," he responds.
"According to who? You?" I clench my teeth. "What about your promise to come clean with me?"
"You gave me a week," he states.
"And guess what?" I reply. "Week's almost up."
Dean's lips press together and the look he gives me is so closed off, so dark that I can see I'm not getting any further with him tonight. I release his hair immediately, pop the driver's side door open, and swing my legs over his thighs to clamber out.
"Avalon!" he calls after me, but I'm not in the listening mood—not anymore. I take several steps away from the vehicle, not even sure what I'm going to do. I could call Corina to come pick me up; she still owes me. Then a thought pops into my head. Can I call the guys? Are they still my friends even if I'm going to end shit with Dean? Because the fact is, I can't do this with a man who doesn't trust me.
"Avalon!" The sound of his shout is much closer, and when his hand settles on my shoulder, whipping me around, I go with the movement, bringing my fist up and punching him right in the face.
He blinks, stumbling backwards as his hand flies up to his now bleeding nose.
"Don't fucking touch me," I snap.
"Where the fuck do you even think you're going?" he yells.
I point at him. “Away from you!" My chest pumps up and down, and my face is heated with my fury. When will he understand? When will he fucking get it? I need to make it clear. "Stop fucking trying to control me," I say and then laugh at the ridiculousness of it all as my hand falls back to my side. “God, I would’ve thought you’d learn by now. I won’t let it happen.”
I clench my teeth and turn away, storming several more feet forward just to get away from his presence. Fuck. If someone would have told me this is what it’d be like—giving a shit about someone else, so much so that I let them get away with damn near everything, I don’t know if I would have agreed to this. To be Dean Carter’s fucking girlfriend. Or whatever it fucking is that we are. I take a quick breath and release it slowly, but it does nothing to quell the rage inside of me.
“If this is how it’s going to be,” I begin again, “you constantly having someone watching me. You calling and texting me every minute of every day, but fucking off to who the fuck knows where and not telling me shit”—I spin back around and point at him—“I fucking told you. I told you if you wanted me to trust you, then you had to tell me the truth.”
“I have never fucking lied to you—”
“Withholding is the same thing!” I yell, cutting him off again.
We’re in a standoff, the two of us. Him, unwilling to let go. Me, unwilling to lose this last part of myself to be with him. I crush my hands against my forehead and drag them back through my hair until the strands are well out of the way, and then I let them drop back to my sides.
“I can’t do it…” The words are barely half as loud as my earlier ones, and I’m not even sure if I’m talking to him or myself.
Dean responds anyway. “Can’t do what?”
I lick my lower lip, trying to bring some moisture to my mouth as I answer him. “I let you get away with shit I would’ve never let anyone else do. The fight at the beach house—”
“If you’ll recall, you didn’t let me get away with shit,” he says. “You kicked my ass.”
I glare at him. “And if you interrupt me one more goddamn time,” I snap, “I’ll do it again.”
He holds up his hands in surrender as if that is supposed to reassure me. It doesn’t. I can see the angry clench of his jaw, the tightness of his muscles, and the cold look in his eyes—the blood under his nose and on his palm. My fault, but regardless, he can’t fool me. Maybe his brothers, but never me.
“Yes,” I say. “I kicked your ass, and you deserved it. Had you been anyone else, though, when you came to get me in Plexton … it didn’t fucking matter what happened between Roger and me, I would’ve”—I pause, noticing the twist of his features. As if someone’s shoved a spike through his chest and is twisting it, but his eyes never waver. They never leave mine. I lick my lip again and keep going. “I would’ve left you all the same,” I continue. “I don’t give second chances. Ever. But there’s something about you, Dean Carter, that keeps pulling me in.” A magnetism, but I don’t say that. There’s no reason to inflate his ego even more, not even when he’s looking at me as though he’s in the greatest agony known to man.
“But I gave you a second chance. More than that. I gave you chance after chance. Yes, I denied that I gave a shit. Yes, I told you it was just sex. I lied. It’s what people do.” I scoff at him. “You should know that better than anyone, but this…” I gesture to the space between us. No matter that it had been my feet to carry me away, it was he who created this distance. “It can’t last. I will not stay with a man who can’t trust me and treats me like some fragile creature. There is nothing fragile about me.”
Dean’s nostrils flare. Silence echoes around us. “Are you done?” he asks.
Not by a fucking long shot, but… “You can speak,” I say.
“I know you’re not fragile,” he begins. “I just got through telling you how I see the violence in you. You’re not fragile like glass, you’re fragile like a goddamn bomb. None of what I’m feeling—nothing I’ve kept from you is because of you.”
“Then that makes it worse,” I say. “Because that means you’re keeping shit from me because of you.” Silence stretches between us. The truth is on his face. I’m fucking right. And I have an ultimatum for him. “Either tell me or end this,” I say. “Tell me the truth—don’t make me go figuring shit out on my own, because I am, Dean. It may take me a bit longer because I don’t have the resources you do, but I will find who made this happen to me, and when I do, I will rain fucking hell upon them. S
o tell me what your hang up is. Tell me what is stopping you or walk away. And if you can’t do it, I will.”
A low growl sounds in the back of his throat. “I won’t let you fucking walk away from me, baby,” he threatens. “I’ll chain your fucking ass to my bed if I have to, but you are not walking away.”
I get in his face, pushing against his chest as I glare up at him. “Try. Me. Motherfucker.” Now there’s nothing to do but lay down the dare and wait.
"I'm not going to do that," he states, eyes growing cold.
"No?" I ask. "Then what are you going to fucking do, Dean? Make a choice. Tell me the truth, or let me walk away."
Dean pushes away from me, taking several steps back. His shoulders shake as if he's containing some violent emotion, but when he speaks, it's in halting words. “It’s because of…” he chokes out. “It’s because of that fucking cunt—” Dean’s voice breaks, shocking me even further.
I take a step towards him and stop when he looks back, and then he turns to face me once more. The middle of my forehead scrunches as he reaches up and scrubs a hand down the lower half of his face so hard that his skin turns red. “I regret what happened to you," he finally says.
I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. My turn again, I guess.
“Why?” I ask. “It wasn’t like you held him there and forced him to put his dick in me. It wasn’t like you held a gun to his head and ordered him to stick me with drugs and pull down my pants and fuck me. Hell, it wasn’t even like you were there for ninety percent of the action. You only came when it was too late. So, why, Dean? Why the fuck do you care?”
“Because of that.” He nods to me. “Because of what you just said—I came too late.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit, Dean. Has anyone told you how fucking self-aggrandized you are? You think this is all your fault. Do you think my very existence is your fault too? The man’s dead. I killed him. Even if he wanted to hurt me again, he couldn’t.” I turn away from the cold and pained expression on his face. It irritates me too much. It makes me want to punch him again. Dean Carter is not a regretful or apologetic man. It’s strange to see him act so now, and it makes me itchy—like the demon beneath my skin doesn't even recognize him.
