by M. Never
I think about Ky, wondering if he made it to the liquor store, or if he got caught in the torrential downpour. Either way, this is definitely going to prolong his return.
The lights finally go out, and I’m struck with a pang of dread. Alone, in the dark. It’s never a fun thing.
I stay planted in place. Hopefully, the blackout will be brief. How long can rain this hard last? I start to hear things outside. Bangs, crashes, thumps, all no doubt a result of whipping wind. I jump whenever I hear a new sound or thunder cracks when I’m not expecting it.
There’s a slam on the window right in front of me, and I startle like a spooked cat, then lightning flashes, illuminating the dark, and the figure standing right in front of me. A blood-curdling scream escapes from me as I trip backwards over my own feet and hit the ground. My elbow wails in pain as I crawl across the cool flooring in a panic, tears rushing down my face as fast as the rain outside. I struggle to breathe, but am suffocating from the fright, stilI continuing to scurry to the closest room with a lock. The bathroom. Lightning strikes, and it allows me to see my way. I stand to run, gaining momentum, but I slam into something hard. No, not something, someone. They try to lock me in their arms, but I fight.
“No!” I scream, crying in terror. “Let go!” I kick and punch, adrenaline coursing through my body like a supersonic electric charge.
“Kira!” My name echoes through my fit. “Kira!” He shakes me like a ragdoll. “Calm down, it’s me.” Ky battles to break through my panic. As crazy as he has driven me over the past couple days, I have never been more thankful to hear his voice. I sob as I melt into him, burying my face into his wet chest.
“There’s someone outside. I saw him. He was by the window. He was watching me.” I suck in precious air as I incoherently ramble.
“What? Where?” His muscles tense beneath my fingertips.
“In the kitchen. By the back windows. I was watching the storm, and then he was just there.”
“Okay, I’ll go check it out.”
“No, Ky, don’t leave me again.” I grab onto his shirt desperately.
“I have to go check it out, Kira. That’s what I’m here for, no?” I look up at him in the dark, lightning bursting at just the right moment. I see the concern on his face and the intensity in his eyes.
I don’t want him to leave, but I also know he has to go.
“I’ll lock myself in the bathroom.”
“Good idea. Don’t open it for anyone but me.” He’s strict with his instructions.
“Okay—”
“Kira.” He clutches my face and points it up toward his. The house illuminates again, and thunder crashes, but suddenly I’m not scared.
“I won’t, I promise. Only you.”
“Only me, Snow.” For the first time ever, my nickname gives me chills.
Ky sends me off into the bathroom, and I lock the door behind me. I can’t see a thing, so I feel my way around until I find the vanity, then the toilet. I sit down, wrap my arms around myself, and rock, trying to keep the hysteria at bay. Someone was out there. Someone is out there, and they’re after me. I shake inconsolably. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I saw him. I saw him. I continue to convince myself. I’m not crazy. I begin to cry. So many emotions are leaking out, certainty most of all. Validation. Truth, reality, sanity.
“Kira.” Ky knocks on the door, and I jump. Jesus, I’m going to have a heart attack by the time this night is through. “Kira, open up.”
“Is it safe?” I feel my way to the door.
“As far as I can tell. There’s no one out back. I checked the garage and the upstairs, too.”
I hesitate before unlocking the door.
“C’mon, Snow, it’s all right,” he coaxes me.
Slowly and unsurely, I unlock the door and crack it open. I’m blinded by a light. “Where did you get a flashlight?”
“I keep it on my keychain. Comes in handy when I’m hunting stalkers.” He flashes me with the mini bright light.
“That isn’t funny.” I put my hand in front of my eyes.
“You okay?”
“I’m freakin’ terrified.” I abandon the bathroom.
“You’re not alone.” Ky tucks me protectively under his arm.
“You’re soaked.”
“That’s what happens when you play in the rain.” He walks us over to the couch and urges me to sit. “Don’t mind me.” Ky begins to strip, pulling off each article of his wet clothing. I can only see bits and pieces of his body as he waves the flashlight around, but it’s enough to keep me riveted. Once he has nothing more than his boxer briefs on, he sits down and pulls me against him. “Body heat.” He shivers slightly. His skin is so cold. I don’t protest, I just wrap my arms around his neck and hug him, giving him all the body heat he needs.
“You drove back in the rain?” I ask curiously.
“Yup. I was inside when I heard the first crack of thunder. I knew you’d probably freak out, so I bolted.”
“No beer?”
“No beer.” He feigns disappointment. “See the things I do for you, Snow?”
“Oh, the sacrifices.”
“No beer is definitely a sacrifice.” We shift closer, Ky taking free liberty with his hands. He slides them under my shirt and caresses them along my abdomen, making his way to my back as I turn my body, pressing my chest to his. I can feel his warm breath on my neck and the cold drops of water falling from his hair onto my shoulders. I like being this close. I like being in his arms.
“You’re so soft, Snow,” Ky murmurs in the dark.
My heartbeat accelerates as I feel his nose brush against mine.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit, navigating through such uncharted territory. Ky is my stepbrother, but my attraction doesn’t seem to give one fuck about that.
Our faces hover inches apart as we paw at each other, both exploring, learning, experiencing exactly what the other feels like.
I trace the lines of his neck with my fingertips, following the ridges of his shoulders and toned arms. I touch his hard chest before running my hands up and slipping them into his soft, golden hair.
“Shit, Kira.” Ky wraps my hair around his wrist and tugs, forcing my head to tilt back. I wait in the dark, unable to see a thing. I can only feel. Feel him press himself against me, feel him breathe harder against my skin, feel his grip tighten around me.
I’m waiting for what still? I’m not sure. A moment of impact? A forbidden kiss?
Yes, a kiss. That’s what I want. I want Ky to kiss me.
That’s so crazy, borderline insane, but he’s here, just as invested as I am, yet he’s hesitating. I wouldn't say no. I wouldn't pull away or deny him. I just don’t have the balls to initiate it myself.
“Kira?” Ky utters my name almost as if he’s in a state of confusion.
“I’m right here.” I place a hand on his cheek.
The tip of his nose touches mine, and we both stiffen. What’s happening here? He claims he wants me. Throws out a pigheaded comment every chance he gets, so why is he wavering? Maybe he has the same reservations I do. Maybe he knows crossing a pivotal line will change everything. It doesn’t have to. I’m not expecting a thing. We have a deal. One month, then I’m gone.
A man like Ky Parish doesn't come across as the relationship type anyway, and sometimes that’s just what a girl needs. Something short, sweet, and fun. A distraction. A swipe right.
I’m going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't kiss me soon. I move my hand to the back of his neck and press gently, indicating I want this, want him — right here, right now. The first touch of his lips fires a cannon of excitement. A feeling that races between my core and my heart.
But a brief touch is all we're allowed as the lights flicker on abruptly, breaking the magnetic connection. It was more like a spell, and I think Ky was under it. Once he realizes exactly what’s transpiring, a wall goes up. Something goes haywire. The look on his face as he stares at me is indescribable, and
not in a favorable way. But he doesn’t move, or release my hair, or push me away. We’re just frozen in place. What’s he thinking? What does he want? Why is he glaring at me with such . . . disdain? It makes me shrink like a dying violet.
“You can put your clothes in the dryer now.” I retreat from his hold. He allows me to go, but he never takes his vigilant eyes off me. What is he looking at? What does he see? “Should we call the cops?” I stand unsurely.
“Hell no. No cops. I’ll have my guys look into it.” Ky follows suit, standing after he scoops up all his wet clothes. The thunder and lightning have seemed to stop, and even the rain is subsiding.
Maybe our encounter was just as random and haphazard as the storm, and we were just caught up in the quickening thrill of it?
I’m left unsure what to do. I’m totally freaked out, but my instincts are telling me to flee, flee from Ky and his personality shift. I feel beyond stupid. I feel alone and left drifting.
“I’m going to go to bed.” I take a step back. The last thing I want is to be alone, but I can’t be near Ky either.
“Will you be okay?” he asks in all his half-naked glory. I try not to look directly at his body, or at the writing tattooed across his clavicle – “For those I love, I will sacrifice” — or the sleeve of color inked down his arm, or the strategically placed, growling wolf face on the side of his thigh. He’s so unlike anything or anyone I know.
His eyes are the hardest thing to avoid. The sharpness of his gaze is penetrating me like a searing ray of icy blue light.
“I’ll be fine.” I try to sound sure, but my voice betrays me. It’s meek, and sad, and constrained. It’s hurt. I’m hurt, and I know I shouldn't be. I don’t mean a damn thing to Ky Parish, and he just proved that spectacularly.
“’Night, then. I’ll stay up. Don’t worry about anything,” he all but dismisses me, almost eager for me to go.
8
Ky
KIRA IS GOING to be the goddamn death of me.
I’ve never jerked off to one woman so many times in my life. It’s actually becoming torturous. Mainly because it’s my own fucking fault.
I had her right there, right in front of me, a hate-fuck waiting to happen. And I choked. I froze. I fell to fucking pieces right in her arms. And now I’m more frustrated and pissed-off than ever.
I let the hard spray of the shower pelt down on my head as I recover from my umpteenth orgasm this week. Being in this house is motherfuckin’ torment. Surrounded by the constant reminder of my divergent father and in the continual presence of his flawless stepdaughter.
I touch my face, feeling the raised bump of the scar across my eye. I am anything but perfect, but that’s never bothered me before. I’ve always been confident about who I am, even after my father deserted me. But when I’m with Kira, everything is different. I feel different, and I fucking hate it. It’s like I’m broken when I’m around her. It’s like I broke in her arms that night in the dark. I still don’t understand it, and I’m going to keep punishing her for it until I’m straight again. Until I’m me again.
Witches don’t really exist, do they? I’m beginning to wonder. First, my dad with Kristen, Kira’s mom, now me with Kira? Sinking into her like a stone in water. That’s what it felt like when she touched me. Like I was drowning in the calmest, warmest water, and all I wanted was to drift deeper. To get lost in her, to hand myself over to her.
I don’t hand myself over to anyone. Not a man, not a woman, not even a modern-day damsel in distress who looks as pure as the freshly fallen snow. Who I dream about, who I fantasize about, who, if I was any other sucker, would do anything for.
A hate-fuck is about all I’m capable of when it comes to Kira Kendrick. It’s all I can offer, and all I was prepared to offer – payback for my fleeing father — until she got her hands on me.
Now I don’t know what to do around her, except keep my damn distance.
“Ky.” Kira bangs on the bathroom door. “Ky, I’m going to be late.”
“Keep your panties on. I’ll be out in a sec,” I bark. I’m not nice, and I don’t even attempt to be. I’m just trying to survive the next three weeks.
I let the water run for several more minutes just to piss Kira off. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll hate me more than she can even believe possible. Then she and my father, and his perfect little wife, can live happily ever after and never have to think about me again. Which is exactly how I prefer it.
Once I’m out of the shower, I throw on a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and do a quick towel dry of my hair.
“Ky, c’mon, my professor won’t let me in if I’m late!” Her voice carries up the stairs. This spurs me to move a little faster. Not because I don’t want Kira to be late, but because if she is, and that’s true, I’m stuck with her for the night. Can’t happen. I’ve got plans.
I slide my rings on, grab my keys, and put a little more quickness into my step.
“I gotcha, Snow.” I bound down the stairs. “You won’t be late.”
With a huff, Kira follows me out the door. She’s beyond annoyed, and that’s exactly how I like her. Fucking frustrated, just like me.
I climb on my bike, and Kira follows right along with me. This is the worst part, her touching me. All my hair follicles stand at attention. As much as my mind rejects her touch, my body has its own opinion.
I have considered using her car, but like I said before, I’m a glutton for punishment. A masochist, if you will. The torture is invigorating. It’s an adrenaline rush. And I’m a fucking junkie.
Kira places her hands on my stomach, and my muscles clench involuntarily. I just react, no matter how or where she touches me. And I hate it. I. Fucking. Hate. It.
I hate that she possesses that kind of control. She’ll never know it, though. I refuse to let her.
I start the bike with a roar of the engine, and we pull away from the obnoxious mansion I’ve come to despise.
The ride to Kira’s school is short but still agony. I need to just go. Go blow off some steam and be with my guys.
I barely acknowledge Kira as she climbs off the back seat.
“Class ends at nine thirty,” she reminds me for the tenth time today.
“Yup, I got it.” I twist the silver ring around my index finger. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are her late classes, as I’m learning. You know what that means for me? Freedom. “I’ll be right here when you get out,” I assure her unenthusiastically.
“Still no word about the other night? Who it might have been?” She asks before taking off, she’s on a constant pursuit for peace of mind. It’s unfortunate I can’t give her what I don’t have.
I shake my head. “I’m going to see my boys tonight. We’ll talk then.”
By the expression on her face, Kira doesn’t like the idea of me taking off.
“Don’t look at me like that. I said I’ll be back.”
Her eyes tell me everything I need to know. The other night put a wedge between us, and now she’s questioning whether or not she can trust me. I haven’t given her a reason not to, except maybe for my bad attitude. That doesn’t mean I’m going to bail; it just means I don’t have to be thrilled about the situation.
‘’I’ll see you later.” She pouts her plump, pink lips. They are way too luscious and treacherously alluring. I know the exact image I’ll be jerking off to tonight. I inwardly sigh. I’m fucking bewitched, I tell you. By the darkest magic known to man. Lust.
“You know you will,” I promise.
Kira turns on her heel and heads for the steep stairs that will take her to the entrance of the building.
I watch her climb each and every one of them, her short shorts she’s infamous for and the loose tank top shift seductively with every step.
Masochist, I tell you, because as I study her, all I want to do is chase her down and tell her how much I want to swim inside her. How much I want to drown in the water I was drifting in the other night. How much I want to fuck her until neither of
us can see or breathe or even think. My heart palpitates like a jackhammer from just the mere thought. She’s the nail being driven into my chest. She’s the one who binds me to this cross. My anger and aversion grow larger as the hold she has on me grows stronger. I’m stuck in a hellish place. Between conscience and contempt, desire and disdain.
I want to abandon her, but I also want to stay.
I pull away from Kira and the school, bubbling with more annoyance than I know how to deal with. The only thing keeping me together is the knowledge that in just a little while, I’ll be surrounded by my brothers, tossing back some much-needed booze, and blowing off a shitload of steam. I’ll forget all about Kira Kendrick for a few blissful hours. Forget about how she touched me. How she said my name. Forget about how much I wanted to kiss her. How I could have kissed her. Forget about how frightened I was that if I did kiss her, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I twist the throttle and the bike rumbles down the highway. I weave in and out of traffic as the thunderous sound drowns out my aggravating thoughts.
When I pull up to The Lion’s Den, the dirt parking lot is littered with bikes. It’s a buffet of custom Sportsters, Fat Boys, and Low Riders with screaming chrome exhausts and don’t-fuck-with-me fenders.
It’s good to be home. I park my Softail right in the center of it all where a sign reads “Baumer Prez”. Wiping a bit of dirt from the exhaust, I’m hit with a pang of remorse. I should fucking hate this bike as much as I hate him. He built it for me, but I just can’t bring myself to let it go. I love it. I loved it from the moment he gave it to me. A totally custom Softail Breakout, chromed to the max,
with big, tricked-out wheels and a wicked tribal paint job. He said he chose the huge twin cam engine because it reminded him of me. Explosive, powerful, muscular, sleek. Those were the words he used. That’s how he saw me. He built the bike in my image, and I was never prouder to be his son than the day he gave it to me.
I think there was one thing he didn’t realize, though. That engine also gives you a swift kick in the gut when you open it up. It has massive torque, just like me. And he felt my brute force when he announced his sudden retirement. When he all but shoved the keys to the kingdom down my throat and walked away.
