Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)

by A. L. Jackson

  Romping in the water with a boy.

  A month ago, who would have ever thought?

  Who would have thought I’d splash him back? That I’d laugh and dodge when he retaliated with the same?

  Who would have thought it would feel so good? That I’d crave the mouth hovering an inch from mine? That I’d hunger for his touch?

  Who would have thought I’d need a man?

  Want a man?

  I clutched his sides.

  I did.

  I needed him.

  Needed the safety I’d found in his arms.

  Needed the belief that shone from his eyes.

  Needed all that bad and that unfailing good.

  It was there.

  In him.

  His nose brushed at my jaw, voice raw. “Blue…you make it feel different.”

  There was something so inherently sad in his statement, that voice twisting through me with the intent to tie.

  But that was okay.

  I was pretty sure I wanted to be bound.

  We all played and splashed as the sun slowly slipped from the sky. Darkness wove a pattern within the clouds. In the distance, the faintest flashes of lightning flickered within the storm.

  My heart twisted and mourned and begged.

  Suddenly overwhelmed, I took a fumbling step back.

  In concern, Lyrik’s grin fell. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to go dry off by the fire.”

  Telling him I was fine was nothing more than a lie.

  Because I was staggered.

  So close to feeling courageous.

  More than brave.

  Whole.

  I spun around, fighting my way through the waves as I climbed back up the beach. The fire roared, logs aflame where Anthony stood guard.

  Kind of the way he seemed to stand guard over all the guys. Their protector. Supporter.

  I guess even the baddest boys needed one.

  I flung my hair back and heaved out a breath as I approached.

  “How was the water?” Anthony asked.

  “Glorious,” I replied.

  Or maybe it was the air and the sky and the excited feeling that shimmered over the earth, my own secluded world set ablaze.

  I sank down onto the blanket next to the fire.

  The people who’d somehow become my family continued to play in the water. Zee and Lyrik and Ash wrestled in the waves like teenagers, while my sweet friend who I’d come to adore wore a white bikini with her baby belly on display. She clowned around with her husband and daughter, so free and unrestrained.

  A tender smile pulled at my mouth and prodded at my fractured spirit.

  Long gone was the snark and sneer.

  Anxiously, I glanced at my camera. My pulse spiked and blood coursed through my veins. I ran my palms over the blanket to dry them. They were shaking by the time I finally got the courage to pick up my camera.

  This hopeful feeling came over me when I focused the lens over the water and on the little family that brought a pang of hurt and hope beating through my spirit.

  Four years ago, I made a promise to myself I’d never take another picture. Like a morbid punishment for the fool-hardy choices I’d made.

  My little brother’s face wove through the deepest recesses of my thoughts, my mother’s words so clear.

  Come home.

  I wanted to because I missed them.

  Because I wanted to do the right thing.

  Because I wanted to be that girl.

  Tamar Gibson.

  I almost felt like her.

  I just didn’t know how to let hope and belief outshine the fear that was so intense. Didn’t know how it could ever blot out the shame. How it’d ever make up for my guilt.

  But staying only amplified it.

  Sucking in a stealing breath, I clicked.

  I wanted to sob as I broke that promise.

  A promise that had been faulty.

  Profane.

  Misdirected.

  Another way I’d allowed Cameron Lucan to steal what I had loved.

  It was a single tear that slid down my face when I snapped the first picture I’d taken in four years. A darkened image of a family that represented joy.

  Joy. Joy. Joy.

  Lyrik was suddenly standing over me.

  His expression both hardened and softened when he looked down at me. My face was wet from the waves. But I knew…I knew this man recognized my tears.

  “Blue,” he whispered.

  I turned the lens up at his striking face and my lungs felt like they just might implode. I focused on that pouty mouth and the sharp angle of his jaw and those hypnotic eyes.

  Click.

  I was coming apart while a broken piece of me came together.

  He stretched out his hand. “Blue…come here.”

  Shakily, I let him help me stand. How could I refuse? No longer did I want to.

  No.

  I wanted to experience and feel and love.

  I wanted to live.

  He leaned down and gathered the blanket from the ground.

  He didn’t say a word as he led me down the beach. Our footsteps marked our path where we walked several feet from the ebbing tide, our toes sinking into the damp sand. Wind whipped around us as the storm drew closer and we walked deeper into the night, away from the lights of the houses behind us and to a secluded section of the beach.

  When we were completely isolated from the houses, he led me up a dune where wild grasses grew high at the bank. He flung the blanket down on a barren spot.

  He helped me down. Immediately I pointed my camera at the horizon. At the billowing clouds that gathered higher and higher.

  Lightning flashed, and a soft gasp left me as I captured the image.

  God. It’d been so long. Never could I have imagined it would feel so good.

  Like freedom.

  Like exoneration.

  “Blue,” Lyrik whispered as he climbed down onto his knees in front of me. We both still wore our suits, the fabric wet and clinging to our bodies. He nudged me back onto the blanket. He straddled my waist with his knees still bearing his weight.

  Holding me down in a way I was pinned but I knew I was free. I snapped and snapped that gorgeous face, while my insides shook with the impact of each click.

  “Blue,” he whispered again. Gently he pried the camera from my hands. Shadows danced around us. Grasses blew. Black hair whipped and his big body eclipsed mine.

  “Tell me what’s happening, baby.”

  The confession tumbled from my mouth. “Pictures were my passion. My grandfather taught me when I could barely hold a camera.”

  Emotion clogged my throat. “I took pictures of the most beautiful things. Storms and the desert and the people I loved. But I felt most alive when I was out in a storm. Capturing its beauty. Maybe it’s dumb…but my pictures represented everything I wanted to be. Who I wanted to be and how I wanted to react to the people and things around me. They represented who I was. Tonight…tonight is the first time I’ve taken a picture in four years.”

  Understanding dawned in those inky eyes. Twilight and the sunrise.

  He turned the camera on me.

  Flinching, I jerked my head to the side.

  He dropped the camera an inch and peered over the top. His stare burned into me. Digging deep while I tried with all of me to hide.

  “Tell me…show me. You said this camera only held the most beautiful things. That’s what you are. Don’t you get it, Blue? You’re so fucking gorgeous my breath gets locked up every time I glance your way. That’s what you do to me. One look and I’m gone.”

  More tears seeped free and ran down the sides of my face as I looked back up at him. “I don’t like my picture taken.”

  “Why?” he prodded.

  Unearthing and exposing and uncovering.

  My voice was gravel. Pained. Locked up.

  “Because that’s what he liked.”

  C
onfused, Lyrik blinked. “He liked taking your picture?”

  My entire face pinched, my eyes squeezed closed while I admitted some of the horror etched in my spirit. “He took pictures of me tied up against my will. He…videotaped me while he let another man rape me.”

  Memories spun, too close, too fast. “Then he made me watch it. Made me look at the pictures again and again.”

  Shame.

  Hatred.

  Fear.

  They threatened to take me hostage.

  Lyrik stiffened, his anger so fierce it ignited in the wind. Something wild and violent. I could feel the beat of it as it surged into me, silent but extreme.

  “Tell me he’s dead.”

  With the tight shake of my head, my eyes squeezed closed again, then slowly opened when I felt him aim the camera at me once more. The words falling from his mouth came in a rush. “What do you want, Blue? You’re in control. This camera is yours. What’s on it and who sees it. All you have to say is no. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?”

  I hear you.

  I hear you.

  I hear you.

  Splayed open wide. That was me. Lying there looking up at him.

  “I don’t know how to say no to you.”

  Right then? I knew I’d never want to.

  Click.

  Energy sizzled in the air.

  The buzz before the strike.

  Lyrik looked down at me as if he’d seen the sunlight for the very first time.

  My heart flailed in my chest. Anticipation and need and the greatest sense of being free.

  Wind barreled down and lightning flashed.

  Yes.

  A storm was coming.

  IN SOME SORT OF frenzy, we stumbled up the stairs of our apartment building. Tamar was one step above me, and she was kissing me like the sex kitten she was. Ferocious and wild and a little bit scared. She struggled to get closer, all the while trying to drag me up the steps.

  We made it to my door, and I fumbled with the knob, eager to make it inside. The door flew open. It banged against the interior wall.

  I tossed my keys, because I damn sure had better use for my hands. I drove my fingers back into ruby locks just as my mouth was diving back in.

  Drowning in this girl.

  She was sweet.

  So fucking sweet.

  “You taste so damned good.” It was a groan at her mouth.

  Red, delicious lips. Tart little tongue.

  Red.

  She moaned.

  My movements were frantic, desperate as I edged her into my apartment and flung the door shut behind us.

  Darkness swallowed the room. All except for the glittering lights of Savannah filtering through the balcony doors. That and the flashes of lightning blanketing the sky.

  With each one, short gasps would escape Tamar’s mouth. Those hot little sounds wound me up tighter than I’d ever been. Tension curled between us. It was this fierce energy blistering across my skin that I couldn’t shake.

  Sucked into her turbulence.

  So hard and brash and sexy as fuck. Simple and sweet and good.

  Couldn’t even begin to make sense of the enigma.

  Instead, she let me discover it. Bit by bit.

  Rain pelted against the windows and beat against the roof. It echoed through the walls, a pounding rhythm. It filled up the air with need and lust and an insistent greed.

  My dick strained. Pressing hard and hot at the seam of the jeans I’d thrown on right before I’d practically dragged her back to my bike after whatever the fuck had happened on the beach.

  After she’d lain out there in the night and let me snap picture after picture. Let me urge her to show me what she wanted me to see. Her expression had knocked the breath from me. So full of faith and hope. And still brimming with the old pain that threatened to split me in two.

  Eradicating it had become like some kind of twisted, fucked-up Holy Grail.

  Never had I wanted to destroy someone the way I wanted to destroy that bastard without a name. Had never ached for vengeance. For blood. For revenge.

  Scariest part was why I wanted it so fuckin’ bad. Why I felt like I needed to wrap up this girl and keep her safe from all the atrocities of this world.

  The rational side of me knew I should be pushing her away. I needed to shut down this insanity before it went any further.

  But that logic became a dull, nagging sound against the roar to wrap her up and protect her. To coax her out of that shell. To let this girl shine because she was the most vivid thing I’d ever seen.

  A rush of dizziness swirled through my head. I needed her so damned bad.

  Fucked. I was completely, irrevocably fucked.

  Touching her felt like a tease. Like torment.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been sent as additional punishment for what I’d done.

  Because not a soul was perfect. But goddamn, if this girl wasn’t perfect for me.

  And soon she would become another piece ripped from this half-life.

  Guilt clenched my heart, and I pushed her up against the wall, a little rough. Just as my hands gently cupped her face.

  Conflict and contradiction.

  “Red.”

  Flattening myself to her body, I rocked against her, my hard cock begging at her belly.

  A tiny moan rolled from her tongue, and I got lost in her intense blue eyes as she stared up at me.

  In emphasis, I squeezed her face. Giving her an out.

  No question, both of us would fare a whole hell of a lot better if she took it.

  “Going to fuck you tonight, Red. I’m not going to stop until I make you mine. Until I erase a little more of that asshole from your skin. Not unless you tell me no. Tell me no and you can walk right out that door.”

  Walk away.

  Please.

  She fisted both hands in my shirt. “I wouldn’t let you stop if you tried.”

  On a growl, I spun her around and started backing her down the short hall, kissing her like the madman she made me while I pulled her shirt over her head. Under it, she still had on that tiny piece of red fabric she liked to call a bikini.

  Truth?

  The barely-there slip of material was my utter demise.

  Her tits swelled over the top and the tat engraved just above them heaved with every breath she took.

  “Don’t stop,” she pled at my mouth. She slipped her hands under my shirt, her palms flat on my stomach as she pushed it up and dragged it over my head.

  Tremors rippled at her touch.

  Mother. Fuck.

  A torrent of emotion swam across her features. “Don’t stop. Please, Lyrik, make me feel. Let me feel everything. I never thought I would again. Not until you.”

  Blue. This was Blue.

  Innocent.

  Vulnerable.

  No trace of the mask.

  And I needed to keep my cool. To take it slow when I was overwhelmed by the urge to tear into all her snowy flesh. To devour and consume. To conquer this girl—heart and mind and body and soul.

  Because maybe it’d been me who hadn’t felt anything in far too long. Instead I’d just been living out this never-ending hell of hollowed-out regret and overwhelming blame. All the bodies that’d been under me and over me? I couldn’t remember a face.

  Meaningless.

  Not a name. Not one.

  Not until her.

  Red.

  Unforgettable.

  Blue.

  “Tell me what you need.”

  She bit her plush bottom lip and her brow pinched with the magnitude of her confession.

  “I need you.”

  Fuck.

  I picked her up and she wound her legs around my waist. Nose to nose, I quickly carried her into the bedroom and laid her sideways across my bed, keeping her legs wrapped around me where I stood at the edge.

  The lights were off. The window shades drawn.

  The storm raging outside lit her up.

  Sh
e’d told me that was where she felt safest.

  Freest.

  So yeah, there were no doubts in my mind it was stupid and selfish. But I wanted her freedom found with me.

  In me.

  Even when I’d remain in chains.

  Edging back, I pulled her shoes and socks from her feet as something heavy pulled at my heart. I leaned in close, inhaling deep and filling my senses with all that cinnamon and spice, pressing my nose to her bare stomach as I undid the button and zipper on her jeans.

  Intoxicating.

  Maybe that’s what this was.

  A spell.

  A curse.

  A red-headed demon sent to crucify and slay.

  Because her fingertips were mercy and her touch was misery.

  What the fuck had I done?

  Letting her get to me this way?

  I knew better, but there was nothing I could do to stop this, and I was all too eager to yank her jeans down her legs.

  I dropped them to the floor, leaving her in nothing but the red suit she’d been tempting me with all night.

  “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” I murmured. I smoothed my palms up the outside of her thighs, gripping a good handful of those lush hips. “Do you know, Red? How I have to tear myself away from you night after night? How I can’t fucking sleep because I know you’re just across the landing, lying in your bed. Alone. And then here I am, left thinking that’s right where I should be?”

  A shaky breath and a brush of her fingertips down my cheek. “Why do you leave when you know I want you to stay?”

  Need and something I didn’t want to feel knotted my guts.

  Pulling back an inch, I let my gaze wander over her body.

  Her skin was white and snowy, all except for the color inked across her flesh.

  Long locks of red were strewn around her head like a fiery halo.

  Just like my girl.

  An angel.

  A siren.

  Rise swirled up her ribs in that pretty font, and my fingers trailed over the statement before I slid my hands under her back and freed her bathing suit top and tossed it to the floor.

  “Goddamn,” I hissed. I palmed her tits, bunching them up and pressing them together. I ducked down and brushed my lips across the hardened tip of one nipple. Breathing a breath of hot air across that perfect flesh.

  Red arched and she fisted her hands in my hair.