by Carnal, MJ
~~*
We’ve been at Carnal for a few hours now. The last time I even attempted to gain the time, the hands on the clock started dancing. I ask Greg, who says it’s a little after 1:30 in the morning; sure, we can go with that.
Dee and I have been taking turns ordering the most outrageous drinks we can think of—with the help of our phones and Google, of course.
“Gimmie two Golden Showers, bartender!” I scream across the bar. When did someone take my last drink? What was that one? A blow job, I think. Yes, that was it. We spent a good fifteen minutes laughing our asses off after making Greg drink one.
He is currently giving us a look of extreme displeasure. He can act as mad as he wants, but yelling for Greg to deep throat his blow job was hilarious. Just ask the customers around us. They certainly laughed loud enough.
Even during times like this, when you know he could be doing something better with his time, he wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else. He’s been a constant presence in my life since that day he showed up with Dee. The big brother I never had, always there when I needed him the most. I can tell by the way he keeps looking around the crowd that he has slipped back into that protector mode; it’s almost like he constantly thinks something is out to get him. Or me. I shiver. Brandon isn’t ever far from my thoughts, especially not after the package. I can tell when Greg looks at me like he is afraid I might break at any moment that his thoughts are the same.
Dee’s slurred voice interrupts my thoughts with a high-pitched screech. “YO, bitch, drink up! I got you one of those Pull-Down Pussy things. No…it was the Pussy Panty Pull-Down? Fuck.” She spits the word out with so much frustration she almost falls off her stool. She looks over at me and I can see that she’s trying to decide if she is more confused over the correct drink name or how she got to the club to begin with.
“That’s not right, Dee! Greg! Greg, tell her the right pussy! You know pussy, right, Greg?” I laugh up at him, tilting my head to the side, wondering why his frown is wobbling.
“You two are driving me fucking crazy. Just because I know my pussy doesn’t mean I know this shit. I eat it, and when drinking it down, I damn sure don’t do that out of a fucking glass. For shit’s sake, get some motherfucking water next time. Fuck me, the right pussy.” He shakes his head at us both. “If you touch one more drink with fucking pussy in the title, we are gone, got me?”
Well. He thinks he runs this show, does he?
I look over at Dee, who is trying hard not to bark out a laugh. Holding up my arm, I signal the bartender over. Again.
“What’s next, my beauties?” comes his flirty question.
“Well, since pussy is off the allowed list, how about you surprise us? Either a Slow Comfortable Screw or a Screaming Orgasm. Bartender’s choice.” I hear Greg’s annoyed curse even over the beating bass surrounding us.
I’m still laughing when Dee screams that our song is on. “Come on, Iz, it’s our song! Get up! Let’s go shake it.”
“Every fucking song is your song, Dee,” Greg deadpans.
Laughing, I spin around on my heels and run smack dab into a brick wall. Fuck, that hurt.
I put my hands up and try to orientate myself with my surroundings; I focus, or at least I try to. Wait a minute… Since when do brick walls have heartbeats? There is no way that is normal. What the hell kind of club is this?
I squeeze my hands against the wall. Hmm, heated walls. Nice touch, but kind of pointless in a night club, if you ask me. I take a small step back and focus the best I can. I look up and up and up a little more. Finally my eyes land on two laughing brown eyes. Since when do walls have eyes?
“Whoa there, sugar,” the wall says.
“Huh?” I’m confused as hell.
“Beck, what’s going on, brother?” Greg says from behind me. Grabbing my hips and bringing me to his side, he throws that familiar arm over my shoulder. “I see you met my girl, Iz. Izzy, this is Beck, one of the boys I was telling you about.”
I can feel the smile in his words. Greg has talked about his “boys” often; I know he thinks of this group as more than friends. After all, when you fight alongside each other for so many years, trusting them with your lives, they become so much more than just people to you. A brotherhood with a bond so tight it is untouchable. I know he is over the moon to finally introduce these men to Dee and me.
I come out of my wall fog long enough to glance up at Beck. He really is one handsome giant. He is at least a few inches over six feet, close to Greg’s height and build. He has such strong features—a nose that looks like he has broken it a time or ten and chocolate brown eyes that are twinkling with humor and have deep laugh lines crinkling the corners. He is obviously a man who smiles often. His brown hair is way overdue for a cut, but he makes it work. Really makes it work.
“John Beckett. Heard a lot about you, little lady. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He is holding out his big paw for me to shake. It feels strange shaking his hand after basically being plastered over his body. Awkward.
“Iz…um, Izzy West,” I fumble out.
Dee must have just noticed our new arrival, because right in my ear, I hear, “Who in the hot hunk of sex are you?”
Leave it to Dee. She knows what she likes, and it looks like she likes Beck. Smiling, I turn to look at my friend, and oh yes, Dee is in lust heaven right now. I’m shocked she hasn’t started panting and humping his leg.
Turning back to Greg, I notice that two new hunks have joined the party. Since Dee is now busy with Beck, I sit back down and enjoy my drunken happiness. Greg turns, noticing my sitting down, and grabs ahold of my hand.
“Baby girl, this is Zeke Cooper and Maddox Locke. Boys, this is Izzy.” He introduces me with a huge smile.
I haven’t seen Greg this happy in a long time. I know he has been waiting for this moment, introducing two sets of his ‘family’ to each other. I don’t know much about these men outside the fact that they served with Greg in the Marines. It’s my understanding that they work for the same security company in California, something they started up when they left the Marines. Greg couldn’t wait to merge his company with theirs, turning Cage Investigation and Security into a large-scale operation.
“Hey, boys. Nice to look at cha,” I tell them. Oh my God, did that just come out of my mouth? If their twin smirks are anything to go by, it most certainly did. Shit, does Greg only know hot guys? Both of these two easily top Greg’s six foot three. They’re giants to someone as vertically challenged as I am, and holy hell, they are nice to look at. Talk about easy on the eyes. Both men have bodies meant to be worshipped, long and hard.
Zeke has blond hair, clipped close to his scalp, eyes so blue that even in the club’s dim lighting they look clear, and a blinding, full smile with twin dimples on each side. He reminds me of a model straight from Abercrombie. He is the perfect vision of the boy next door.
Maddox is his polar opposite. He has just as many muscles, but on him they look huge and imposing. His brown hair is longer than Zeke’s, sporting that messy look like he was running his hands through it all day—sex hair. His face is hard but friendly in a weird combination that just seems to work. But it is his eyes that hold me captive; they are so dark they look black and bottomless.
I realize I have been sitting here eating them up with my eyes when I hear Greg clear his throat. Looking over at him, I see the biggest grin on his face. Thinking he is smiling at me, I give him one of my brightest smiles and start to turn around to properly introduce myself to his two friends. I am not exactly making the best first impression with these men. I open my mouth to speak when I hear Greg booming—yes, booming.
“Reid! Damn, is it good to see you again. Twice in one day. Must be my lucky day, you fucking bastard.”
Jesus, there’s another one of these men? Maybe this one will be short, fat, and balding. Ha, not looking like that’s possible with this cast of man candy. Even their names are hot. Beck, Zeke, Maddox, and Reid.
I
turn to my side, giving Dee a smile that I hope expresses how lucky we just became. She is still standing next to Beck, but her flirty smile is long gone. The look of shock and something else I can’t name has taken over her face. What the fuck? She looks like she swallowed a damn fly and is looking right over my shoulder with her jaw on the floor.
Damn, this one must be even hotter than the others.
I make a mental note to discuss this with her later. I might be out of the game, but even I think that is a weird flirting technique.
I finish my rotation and end up looking at the biggest chest I have ever seen in my life. If the boys before this one made me feel small, this man makes me feel like a damn midget. Well, I can understand her astonishment now. It isn’t normal to be this large. How is his shirt even staying stitched at the seams? His arms are so big and powerful that they are currently testing the strength of his black button-down shirt, which is stretched across his massive shoulders and tucked neatly into the tight black dress slacks, slacks that are doing nothing to disguise the healthy-sized bulge.
I shake myself off, mentally berating myself for going there. I just eye fucked this complete stranger without even saying hello. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last drink.
I look back up and meet the most stunning green eyes I have ever seen. Eyes I have seen before. Eyes I have spent hours gazing into. Loving and planning. Eyes I have been mourning for the last twelve years.
Feeling dizzy, I reach out to steady myself, catching the first thing I find, which I think might be Greg.
“What the fuck?” he mumbles under his breath.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
He’s gone. I know he is. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have just spent the last twelve years missing him so ferociously with every fiber of my being.
The last thing I think before I feel my world spinning and crashing down on me is that Axel isn’t gone. He isn’t dead. I didn’t lose the last part of him when his baby bled out of my body on my eighteenth birthday.
And before I lose all touch with reality, I swear I hear, “Are you fucking kidding me? Isabelle is your goddamn Iz?”
I must be dreaming because MY Axel would never sneer my name with so much anger and hate.
Chapter 5
“Baby,” I hear his deep voice seductively rumble as he trails his fingertips up my spine.
God, I love how he wakes me up, always touching my skin like just the contact alone makes him feel whole. His hard body is pressed tightly to my own, keeping me snug and warm against his side.
“Baby girl,” he croons in my ear, kissing the spot right behind it—the spot that never fails to make my body go from warm to boiling. Goose bumps instantly start to sprinkle against my skin.
No one has ever set me on fire like he has.
No one has ever loved me like he has.
Axel, my love, my heart, my everything.
I’m finally back in his strong arms.
How did I get here? My heart skips a beat and my breath stalls in my lungs.
It’s all been a dream, it must have been. Just a terrible nightmare I never thought I would wake from.
My parents are still alive.
Ax isn’t leaving me.
Our baby is still safe within my womb.
Everything is perfect.
The enormity of this moment hits me like a Mack truck. Big, body-heaving sobs rack my body.
He’s here; my Axel is here. I am finally back in his arms.
“Baby girl,” his voice says again, getting fainter like he is down a long hallway.
“Izzy? Baby girl, please wake up.”
Why is Greg holding me? He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right. Where is Axel? He was just right here. I don’t want Greg, I want Ax!
My crying intensifies, and I can feel his body tensing, trying to figure out how to calm me down. I can hear myself; I must sound ridiculous with my hysterical babble. I’m begging Greg, begging and pleading for him to take me back to Axel. I know I don’t make any sense but I just can’t seem to figure out where reality is and where I left Axel in my fog.
I want that dream back. I can’t lose him again… I won’t survive it a second time around.
I eventually settle down to just a few shudders, my breath escaping my body. I try desperately to make sense of this situation. How did this happen?
Looking around, I notice for the first time that we are in an office of sorts and I am sitting on a large leather couch pushed off to one end. Maddox is standing next to the door like a guard. His face has lost the small touch of friendliness he had before and has now taken on a fierce look of pure rage. I look up at Greg with what I’m guessing is a face of pure confusion. He returns my look with a small, forced smile.
I can hear Dee now that I have finally stopped my grief-filled sobbing; she sounds like she is a million miles away. She is muffled enough that I can’t understand her words, but the venomous tone to her voice is clearly reaching my ears. Greg is still holding me tightly in his arms, whispering reassuring words in my ear. At least I think they are reassuring. His tone is soft and slow, delicate. My mind can’t catch them though; I am still searching for Axel.
“Move the fuck out of my way, woman. I will not tell you again.” I hear the steel-like tone attached to the voice I haven’t heard in so long. He sounds almost feral. That is not a tone I have ever heard his voice take. “I will get back there. Do you fucking hear me, Isabelle? I will be talking to you!” he continues to boom through the office door that Maddox is guarding.
At the sound of my full name, my body goes rigid. I can feel every muscle individually seize up. Each bone seems to have turned to stone, and tremors are starting to work their way through my body. My heart picks up speed and my breathing becomes shallow.
No one has called me that in two years; and no one would dare. That was the name, the only name, Brandon used with me, and it was almost always followed by his fist or foot. No one who knows me would use that name. The first time Dee called me that after I left Brandon, I had to be admitted to the hospital because I couldn’t calm down.
God, I can’t breathe. I look up into Greg’s worried eyes. I know what he sees when he looks down into mine—absolute raw terror and fear. A fear that I am back in that place and terror that Brandon has finally found me.
Gasping to catch a small slice of oxygen down into my lungs, I start clawing at his arms, trying my hardest to get away. I have to run. I have to hide. If Brandon is here, he won’t stop until he kills me this time.
“Fuck,” Greg spits out. “Mother FUCKING fuck!” He is pulling me closer to his body, trying with great desperation to calm me down. I try to soak up his warmth the best I can, attempting to almost crawl inside his body, but none of it is touching me. I feel like my body is being filled with ice, filling me completely to my soul with ice-cold fear. I can almost drown in the memory-induced terror; it is completely taking over my body and mind.
“Fuck,” Greg rumbles again. He sounds so worried. I wish I had the words to reassure him that I’m okay, but what a laughable reassurance that would be.
We both know I am not okay; I am so far from okay I might as well be in another country. I haven’t had an episode like this in a long time; not since the early months after leaving Brandon. I have been doing so well at beating back the panic and finally seeing the light of peace. In fact, yesterday’s breakdown after the ‘present from hell’ was the first time I have felt the claws of fear take hold in months.
“Locke, come here, man. Hold her for a second so I can go bash that motherfucker in the goddamn head.” Greg softly throws his request over to Maddox. I guess he has had enough of watching me come unglued. It can’t be easy for him to watch the aftereffects of a beaten and broken woman. After he first witnessed one of my panic attacks, I remember he wouldn’t leave for days. He kept his hawklike eyes trained on my every move, just waiting for me to crumble.
I feel my body be
ing lifted and then set down within a new set of steel bands. Maddox hooks one arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest, taking my legs and pulling them up close to my body before wrapping his other arm in tight. I feel almost infantile in his arms as he starts to hum a slow tune. I never expected him and his hard exterior to be so understanding and nurturing.
Finally feeling some of the panic recede, I take what feels like my first gulp of air in hours, willing my heart to settle. Maybe it’s his warmth or the way this big hard man curled me in tight and started to softly sing under his breath. Maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t want this new person to see how completely fucked up I am. But he finally calms me down enough to feel the stress and exhaustion of the situation start taking over. Looking up, I meet the concerned dark depths of Maddox’s eyes.
“You okay, girl?
“No,” I whisper back to him.
What an absurd question. If I could, I would belt out one hell of a laugh.
I don’t think I will ever be okay again.
I tuck my head back down onto Maddox’s chest and hope for a miracle.
~~*
(Axel)
You have got to be fucking kidding me. What are the odds, after this long? Isabelle fucking West. I am still at a loss over this new intel. My goddamn Izzy is Greg’s friend who needs help? No, that’s not right. She isn’t mine anymore. She stopped being mine when she couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t hold on for just a few months. She stopped being mine the day I finally found her—married to another fucking man.
Fuck! How is it possible that the Isabelle I knew all those years ago is the same woman Greg gave me the rundown on yesterday. He described a scared, innocent, and very broken woman. The Izzy I knew would never let a person break her spirit. Hell, in the three years she was my girl, even I had a hard time keeping that spirit from overtaking me. She was so full of life and happiness. No fucking way this is the same girl.
