His mother would be ashamed of his behavior. “You're born to lead, not follow,” she often told him. Her words echoed in his mind.
Mom aims for the dramatics. Like someone else I know. Shit, don't think about her.
Summer, the wavy-haired spitfire who chased him through a dark forest leapt into his head. What an unexpected development.
She had exited the shadows, a fearless avenging angel, lighting the murky woodland with the power of a 4000-watt spotlight. The sight hit his gut harder than any jab. Her gaze pierced straight through flesh and bone, wrapped around his heart, and strangled the pounding organ. His body remembered her in an instant, growing tight, tense, and hard. Then his mind clicked, highlighting memories into a sexy, perfect remembrance.
How could any man forget her?
She had left him speechless. While her father rattled off the rules of trespassing, Kian watched her. He had guessed her age at about sixteen. She had been far too young for his lust, but he wanted her. Her magnificence smacked the shit out of his fragile adolescent libido. He lacked discipline and self-control. He was a walking hard-on.
He ran home, went straight to his room, and gave himself one hell of an honorable discharge. Years later and plenty of pussy under his belt, he still acted like an out-of-control teenager in her presence.
Call me Happy Hard-on. He grinned.
Time had matured her, giving her the hourglass contours of a fifties starlet. Her figure lost the straighter lines of a child, becoming fuller and softer. She continued to carry herself with absolute confidence. Unlike the women who cried over gaining a few pounds, she didn't seem to care. To his surprise, he didn't mind either. In fact, he longed to investigate her fuller figure and ample breasts—with his teeth and tongue if possible.
In spite of his crack demeaning her dress tonight, he found the full length perfect for her shape. He enjoyed the way her skirt swept the forest floor with each sway of her round hips. Although modest, her dress exposed enough cleavage to keep things interesting without revealing the entire plot of her appeal. Shit, he wanted to tear open the front and discover if her pert nipples glowed with a warm, rosy blush against her pale skin. Then devour them.
Even the darkest cover of night did little to diminish the fire smoldering behind her intense, beautiful eyes. The shade, an unusual combination of sea green and yellow speckled with a touch of deep brown, stunned him into submission, which was difficult considering Kian dominated. He never surrendered.
Her hair, like ribbons of black silk, cascaded over her shoulders. He had excellent eyesight. When he studied something, he noticed each detail, from the finest flaw to the slightest shift in expression. He calculated her every curve with the upmost care.
Jesus, with her full, pouty lips pressed tight together in defiance and her tongue as sharp as her wit, she called to his need to conquer. Summer had a way of twisting a man into a dozen knots with a simple glance. The mere memory of her made his cock stand at attention and salute.
Earlier, she had ripped apart his character without offering him a chance to defend himself. Those damn eyes, they were poignant, eloquent, hypnotizing pools meant to snag a man from his notions and shove him into the deep end, willing or not. Oh, he hid his reaction well. He was positive she missed the painful erection straining his jeans as she helped him walk back to her house. Her scent was sweet and innocent, yet beneath the surface, in the essence of her skin, hid a spicy, sinful fragrance.
Would she taste as intoxicating as she smelled? Good God, he'd give his left arm to find out.
Déjà fucking vu.
As if he reverted to the old days of spontaneous erections, he needed to grease the bone if he planned to get any sleep tonight.
Lust simmered in his veins at the memories of dodging her displeasure, one shot after another. It was the first time in his life he fought to keep his confidence. She threw him off the pedestal every woman had propped him on since… well, since his birth. One of her hard, green-eyed glares and he fell, tumbled from his perch to land at her feet. When he gained his composure, she did the most unexpected thing. She helped him. Even after the attack on her home and his lack of respect, she offered him what he didn't deserve, her charity.
He closed his eyes, imagining the softness of her dainty hands while her fingertips traced his leg with unhurried curiosity. He knew she meant nothing sexual in her touch. She had inspected his ankle, appraising the damage in a clinical manner.
Well, until she noticed his erection. If he lived to be a thousand years old, he'd never forget the innocence in her eyes and the sweet, sexy blush staining her cheeks. She appeared mesmerized and mortified at the same time. Experienced lovers didn't eye a hard-on with shock. They smirked with interest. No amount of foolish fantasies would erase the obvious fact that Summer was a virgin.
Kian had to back off. Deflowering virgins never fit into his game. He wasn't a gentle lover. He liked to dominate, and he liked to play. He needed his women to have the same feral desires.
He figured her obvious lack of experience would turn him off. Not a chance. Her purity screamed to his dominant nature, dared him with a beautiful enticement he could not resist.
The idea of knowing he was the only man who touched her excited him.
The phone rang, and expecting his father again, he answered with an attitude. “What?”
“Dude, what the hell happened to you? I've been calling your cell and texting you for two hours. I figured I try the old landline,” Eddie hollered back on the other end.
“Maybe you'd know where I was if you didn't abandon me in the damn woods!”
“You couldn't expect us to stick around. I didn't want to get buckshot in my ass. Those fucking hicks are crazy.”
Kian shook his head. “Nice, so you leave me to my fate. If I knew you were such a coward, I would have driven myself.”
“Hey, you don't gotta be a dick about it.” He wasn't the dick in this scenario. Eddie's drinking had surpassed tossing back a few on the weekends to daily binges, and Kian was sick of it. “Chris and Mike left a smoking trail of their own, you know.”
Silence ensued.
“I just spent the last hour and a half limping home. You're all on my shit list.”
He didn't mention Summer or Winter. A need to keep them protected overcame him. Besides, Eddie had done enough to their home. He didn't need Eddie discovering two beautiful girls were there by themselves. He didn't trust his friend would stay away.
“Man, I'm not stepping foot in that fucking forest again. Some crazy shit is going on there. Crap, gotta go. My phone's gonna—” A second later, Kian heard a beep and then silence.
With a gentle flick of his wrist, he tossed the cordless phone on the counter. The ridiculous conversation with Eddie softened his erection like a dip in a frozen lake. He sucked in one last drag of his Marlboro and winced when the nasty flavor of burnt filter stung his tongue. On the edge of the countertop sat an ashtray overrun with cigarette butts. He snuffed out the burning tip and added one more to the pile.
He plopped on the kitchen chair before glancing at his ankle. When he lifted his pant leg, he found smooth, unblemished skin. Kian shook his head. He'd broken bones over the years, and he knew the difference between a sprain and a break.
“What the hell did you do, baby?” he mumbled.
His leg should be the size of a tree trunk, throbbing with a separate heartbeat. Instead, he walked home for the last couple hours, suffering from nothing more than a dull ache.
Eddie had a point. Something weird was going on, but not in the woods. Nope. The craziness lived in the secrets hidden behind Summer's intoxicating green eyes.
A sinful grin spread over his features. He loved a good mystery and adored a beautiful challenge, and with the intoxicating Summer, he had found both.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Kian entered the crowded conference room of his father's company filled with suit-clad pencil pushers. Kian wore his usual faded blue jeans a
nd tight black tank top. Since his father “loved” his piercings and tattoos like an ax to the head, he wore a large, onyx, steel eyebrow ring along with a ball-tipped labret stem beneath his lip. He made sure the skin art on his arms was exposed for all to appreciate.
Buzzed on the sides and golden spikes on top, Kian's hair shouted anti-business to the extreme. Fingerless leather gloves covered both hands—hands stained with grease from the engine he'd worked on at the crack of dawn. The studded material on the gloves helped him handle the bike easier. Humidity tended to make bare palms slippery with sweat. Plus, the thick cowhide offered him extra protection if he ever went down on the rough asphalt.
Like it mattered since he opted against wearing chaps today. If he hit the road, the tarmac would shred him anyway. Regardless, it was too damn hot to wear them.
Heads snapped toward him as if invisible hands struck each person at the same time. Every face held a scowl. Most of the higher-tiered employees at Lancaster Properties resented him. He didn't blame them for their animosity. They slaved for years for Maxwell Lancaster, only to watch their hard-earned promotion go to the boss's unappreciative son.
“I told you I was sending the car.” Sporting an Armani suit and with looks able to seduce a nun, Maxwell sat at the head of the huge conference table.
Kian glanced at his father. Maxwell's dark gaze peered across the table at Kian, scanning over his uncovered tattoos and bold body piercings with utter distaste. Most men cowered beneath the stern glare of Lancaster Properties' CEO. Lucky for him, Kian wasn't most men.
Kian shrugged. “And I took my bike.”
Maxwell signaled for him to sit by his side, but Kian ignored the gesture and took a seat in the back. He hated being here. The closer he sat to the exit, the better.
His father frowned, flashed a promise of retribution, and continued. “Tim, where are we with the Sunrise tenement?”
Tim fidgeted in his seat and yanked at his collar. “We're getting some backlash from the community, sir. They were under the assumption, once acquired, our organization planned to renovate and the current tenants could renew their leases.”
His father laughed. “Where did they get that idea, I wonder?” Maxwell cast a smug glance at his so-called advisor, Pete.
Advisor… Pete was nothing more than hired muscle, a criminal in a three-piece suit who had no trouble handling his father's shadier business practices. The man stood an inch taller than Kian's six-foot-four height. He was built like a damn linebacker. His wide, crooked nose assured all he encountered he was no stranger to conflict. His deep-set eyes, so dark they bordered on black, lacked any kindness. They were cold and lethal enough to make a man shiver on a hot summer day. The lines of his mouth remained harsh and thin, even when he flashed a smirk, much like the one tugging at his lips at this moment.
“Demolition of the building will displace dozens of people, most of them low income families,” insisted Tim, as if the news might sway his boss's opinion. He cowered when Maxwell lifted his brow.
“And you're telling me this why, Tim?” Tim dropped his gaze. The pathetic show of submission gave Maxwell a wolfish grin. “Is this where I'm supposed to give a damn?” he said while laughing.
“I understand, sir, but it's causing waves with the housing authority. Not to mention the mayor's office has received a petition demanding they halt the sale of the property to a private investor.”
“Pete, has there been any word from my contacts in the mayor's office?” Pete shook his head. “Put a call in. It will cost a fortune to keep the wheels turning on this deal.”
Pete gave a sharp nod.
Maxwell's gaze traveled the room before stopping on Kian. “Gentleman, if you'll excuse me, my son and I have things to discuss.”
The chairs screeched across the hardwood floor as the high-paid executives rose one by one. They scurried out of the conference room without casting Kian a glance.
Pete stood. So did Kian.
Pete flashed a smirk. Kian hated the guy with a damn passion. He'd done nothing outright, but the man made the hairs on his nape erect and his fists clench. Kian's instincts were never wrong when it came to people, and they demanded he keep an eye on Pete.
Pete headed for the exit.
“Pete, stick around. This won't take long.”
Pete stopped short. “Sure thing, boss.” He spun, brushed past Kian, clipping his biceps with a sharp elbow, and stood beside Maxwell.
Maxwell focused on Kian. “Take a seat, son.”
This is going to be painful.
“I'll stand, Max.”
Maxwell's fist hit the table. “Take a damn seat.” Each word struck sharper than a blade.
Kian sighed, but obeyed. “What do you want, Max?”
“I'm not one of your loser friends. Call me by that childish nickname again and you will regret it.” Maxwell's tone was lethal.
“Our entire relationship is regretful, Father.”
Maxwell growled. “One day, your attitude is going to get you hurt.”
Kian twisted his neck, hoping to relieve the tension tightening his muscles. “What's this about, Dad?”
Maxwell stood and strolled over to the architectural model sitting on a large wooden table. He trailed a finger along the miniature condominiums, caressing the edges the way one would caress a lover's soft skin. “This, my son, is our future. Come here.”
First, he asks me to sit. Now, he wants me to stand. With reluctance, Kian stood and dragged himself toward the tiny replica of high-end homes with a deep sense of unease. The smile lighting his father's face made his fists clench.
“Recognize anything, son?”
Kian cringed. He hated when his father called him son. It sounded wrong coming from such a cold son of a bitch. He knew the man's blood ran in his veins. He didn't need a reminder.
A knot tightened in his stomach, but he brushed off his discomfort. He refused to show weakness. He surveyed the model with false interest.
“Nope. Should I recognize it?”
His father laughed. “Well, I guess you wouldn't. Welcome to your new and improved hick town, well, after I level the forest sitting there. Beautiful, isn't it? Imagine this, luxury condos, a rec center, a library, damn, even a manmade lake with all the amenities. I've been planning this for years, ever since your mother forced me to buy the outdated eyesore.”
“But that land is protected.” At least Kian thought it was.
A devious grin flashed over Maxwell's face, and Kian's discomfort intensified. “Not by any state organization. The land is privately owned. Searching for the owners was like chasing after a ghost. But after some deep digging, my investigators discovered that a family lives in the center of the woods. Another housing development sits a few miles away, but I'm sure we can name their price. It's the hicks I'm concerned with.” He sneered. “Simpletons who have no idea the gold mine they’re sitting on.” He threw Pete a wicked smirk. “They might not offer their cooperation and may need some persuasion.”
He knew who his father was talking about, and they were no match for this man.
“Nice, Dad, but it has nothing to do with me.” He had to warn Summer.
“You know the area. Talk to people. Gain information on the hicks living there.” Max fingered the center of the model. Summer and Winter came to mind when Kian stared at the tiny model house. He turned away and slipped on a mask of ignorance. He didn't dare let his father see the recognition in his eyes.
“I'm not going around threatening people for you.” Kian scowled.
Maxwell cupped Kian's shoulder, attempting to reassure him. It didn't work. Kian shook off his touch.
“Don't worry. Pete handles my more… difficult tasks.” Maxwell patted Kian's back, a tad harder than needed. The thumps left him empty as the thuds filled the silence. “You've been living there your whole life. Ask around. Find out who the owners are. Get me the info I need to gain control of this land. I'll take care of whatever information you get.”
He didn't dare tell Maxwell he'd already met part of the family living in the woods. Whenever his instincts warned him to stay quiet, he kept his mouth shut.
Kian stepped back, and Max's hand fell away. “I'm not comfortable setting up innocent people so you can bleed them dry. That's not what I'm about.”
“Just like your mother. You inherited her bleeding heart.” His father's grin fell. “How's sweet Lorena doing, son?”
Kian stared into Maxwell's icy gaze. Anger replaced Kian's fear. “She's fine.”
“Good. Very good. I'm glad to hear my financial aid is helping her. You know, Kian, I'd hate for my charity to stop. Having to reconsider my investment might not fare well for your dear mother.”
Someday, someone is gonna take you out. I'll be right there handing them the damn hammer.
Without those treatments and her extensive care, his mother would die, and the soulless son of a bitch reveled in the knowledge. After a moment of bitter silence, Kian cleared his throat. “I'll ask around town.”
“Excellent. I'll expect an update within the next few days.” Maxwell swaggered back to his large glass desk in front of the window overlooking the Philadelphia skyline. He glanced out over the city as if he owned it. He didn't look back.
Kian scowled at his father's wide shoulders.
Pete motioned his hand a few times as if to say, “Run along, boy. We're done.”
Kian frowned at Pete's sneer, lifted a one-finger salute to his father's dog, and strutted out of the room without waiting for the hired muscles response.
***
Pete slid beside Maxwell after Kian's departure and stared out the window at the towering buildings and bustle of life on the city streets below. “He needs to be taught a lesson, Mr. Lancaster,” insisted Pete.
Passion of a Witch: A Wicked Series - Book 1 Page 4
