by Rina Kent
“I told you to keep your hands off her,” Julian grits out, tone curt and on the verge of all hell breaking loose.
He’s always calm and composed, I doubted anything could faze him. Even in his robotic state, he wasn’t worked up. It’s like I’m witnessing an entirely different person right now.
Because of me.
This shift is all because of me.
It shouldn’t mean anything, but my heart is pounding against my ribs.
Kyle meets Julian’s glare with an easy smile. “I told you that I won’t unless –”
“She’s mine,” Julian enunciates. Then, he pauses. We stare at each other. The widening of his eyes matches my own. It’s as if he doesn’t believe what he just said, just like I’m not sure I heard it right.
Kyle’s grin widens to its fullest as he throws his hands in the air. “Grand.”
Julian ignores him and drags me behind him out of Le Salon’s main building, past the cut grass area and into the storehouse. I’m still so dazed that I show no reaction. Or perhaps it has to do with how warm and comforting Julian’s hand is around mine or how my pulse is almost leaping out of my throat.
The next thing, we’re in Julian’s room. The curtains are closed as though it’s night-time. The only light comes from the lamp on the nightstand.
Julian slams the door behind us and releases me. The golden ring is almost non-existent as his eyes zero in on me. “What the fuck were you doing, Elle?”
He’s cursing and using my name, which means he’s pissed off. Now that his touch isn’t numbing my reaction or messing with my defences, my own anger resurfaces.
I puff my chest forward. “What the fuck were you doing, huh? Who do you think you are to manhandle me and call me yours?”
“Elle...” he warns.
“What? What is it, Julian? I’m not an object.”
“I never thought of you as one!” He runs a tense hand through his hair. His still-agitated eyes roam over my body, and my skin heats as if being set on fire.
What. The. Hell?
“But I also never thought you were the type to mess with a player like Kyle.” He turns around, erasing me completely. “Maybe I read you all wrong.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I hate myself for them. I hate the weakness. The vulnerability. Why would I care how someone like Julian reads me? He’s only a stepping stone to find Zoe.
The more I tell myself that, the less it rings true.
He’s making me feel all these stupid emotions I swore would never pull me down. He’s that unexplainable itch I can’t seem to reach, no matter how much I want to.
So, instead of doing the most logical thing – ignore him and go back to Scar – I barge in front of him and point a finger at his chest. “How dare you talk about Kyle when you already have Mist? Mine? Give me a bloody break. What will I be? A mistress? A side dish? The flavour of the week?”
His brows furrow. “Mist and I aren’t in a relationship.”
I huff. “Could’ve fooled me with all those hours huddled in her office. You even drink everything she offers.”
An amused gleam shines in the golden ring of his eyes. His lips slightly twitch that I’ve begun to categorise as his version of a smile. “Are you jealous, Firefly?”
“Of course not!” I shout, and then, realising how defensive I sound, I slap a hand on my mouth.
I am jealous.
Mist is part of the itch. Every time I see her face, I don’t only think about how she could’ve been behind Zoe’s disappearance, but also about how I hate, hate, seeing her with Julian the whole damn time.
I don’t do jealousy. I never coveted anything to the point where I needed everyone to back off. But whenever I’m around that redhead witch, all I want to do is drag her down by that perfect hair.
What the hell is happening to me because of this man?
“If you say so.” Julian’s eyes are still shining. All the rage from earlier is gone. He seems to be enjoying getting on my nerves a lot more.
Infuriating bastard.
I release an irritated growl and head towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a clipped tone.
“I’m returning to Le Salon.”
“No, you’re not.” Julian clutches my wrist and pulls me back. I end up flush against his chest and staring up at those intense eyes.
“I have to work.” I try to squirm free, but his hold is relentless.
Or I’m not doing my best.
“Work starts at night,” he muses.
“But—”
I yelp when he flings my hand around his neck and carries me in his arms. I’m small against him, but for some strange reason, I don’t feel threatened. Tingles run down my spine.
I faintly remember the sensation when he carried me from that abandoned pub.
The safety. The relief.
There were some nagging words that bastard Johnny said, but for the life of me, I can’t remember them. All I recall is this sensation of softening. Of letting go.
It scares the hell out of me.
And yet, as Julian places me on the edge of the bed, my toes curl. He straightens, yanks his jacket off, and throws it on the chair. His strong fingers roll the sleeves of his shirt.
I can’t look away from how the shirt outlines his muscled body. How his presence fills the whole effing room and sucks the breath out of me. The more he rolls his sleeves, the more intricate tattoos appear on those strong, veiny arms.
Warmth invades me and anticipation shoots through my limbs. Excitement bubbles inside my chest and my mouth dries. Even my legs start bouncing. I force them to remain still.
The short trip Julian takes from the chair back to the bed seems like an eternity. When he finally climbs onto his side, I’m at the point of ignition.
I swallow as he reaches for me. I’m about to close my eyes and –
Julian’s hand stretches behind me and clicks off the lamp. Then, he lies back and closes his eyes, using his forearm as a pillow.
Coldness seeps through me as if being drenched by freezing water.
Bastard.
I bite my lower lip in self-loathing. Why the hell would I want him to touch me anyway?
If only I could punch myself.
I start to get up, but a strong arm surrounds my waist from behind. Julian’s hard chest glues to my back and his warm breath strokes my hair.
The sensation compels my lids to flutter closed. I can’t help it. I just can’t. Like in the previous nights, every time his warmth envelops me, I feel like falling asleep.
“Would you stop being tense?” he asks, his deep voice a low rumble against my ear.
“I don’t do this,” I admit. Not sure whether it’s for him or for myself.
“Do what?”
“This.” I throw a hand in the air. “You. The whole intimacy thing.”
“Why not?” He sounds like he’s genuinely curious about me.
Maybe that’s why I tell him. “Because I was born in the streets. It’s kill or be killed out there. Intimacy means weakness.”
“I agree.”
My eyes widen and my jaw almost drops to the floor. “You... you do?”
He nods against my hair.
“Then why are you hugging me to sleep?”
There’s a momentary silence. I hold my breath, waiting for the answer. “I don’t know.” He pauses again. “Yet.”
Good to know I’m not the only one confused out of my mind.
In a bold move, I turn around and face him. His arm doesn’t budge from my middle and is now enveloping my back. My face is mere inches away from his. A slight deviation and I would kiss those lips.
God damn you, Elle.
I stare into Julian’s eyes instead, which isn’t a better alternative with the amount of ferocity in them.
I clear my throat. “Why did you tell Kyle I’m yours?”
“Too many questions, Firefly.” His voice lowers to a rumble. A tingle shoo
ts straight between my legs.
“It’s not fair,” I mumble. “Why do you know everything about me, but I get nothing about you?”
“What do you want to know?” His expression is dead serious.
My lips part. I never thought he would open up. Not willingly at least.
He’s taken me by surprise so many times today. It’s starting to give me whiplash.
Countless questions fill my mouth, but I ask the most important of all. “How did you get into this world?”
His grip tightens a little around my waist. “It wasn’t by choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“Sometimes, that freedom of choice is taken away, Firefly.”
Is this because of the drug? My heart aches for him. But if he’s cuffing himself, then that should mean he doesn’t like it either, right?
“How about your family?” I ask.
“I don’t have one.” His hand drops from my waist. I curse myself. Maybe that was too much.
I assume that sharing time is over, but Julian says in a distant voice, “I had a mother. I don’t remember her face. She was just a mother. When I was maybe nine, she took me to the amusement park, sat me on a bench and said, ‘Stay here, Julian. Mummy will come right back.’ She never did.”
The ache in my heart intensifies into pain. An urge to hug him overwhelms me. I keep my hands to myself. I’m sure that Julian wouldn’t want pity. I can’t believe his mother abandoned him at an amusement park. My mother wasn’t much, but she stood up for me. She made me feel loved and cherished – when she wasn’t high as a kite.
So instead of offering pity, I share a part of me as well. For the first time, I allow someone other than Zoe and Liam to hear this, “I also lost my ma when I was a kid. I was six, and I came back from school, happy that I’m first in the class. I knew she must be high because when she wasn’t, she always fetched me from school. She even went on gushing to all the other parents that I was the smartest. She wasn’t in the brothel, so I spent hours searching for her.”
Memories jam back into me and my lips tremble. “I found her in at the back entrance, near a rubbish can. It was so dark, I thought she was asleep. She usually passed out all over the place when high. Only that time... she wasn’t... asleep...”
Tears form in my eyes and threaten to spill.
Only weak bitches cry, Emmanuelle.
I swallow my tears down. Ma’s words always managed to keep me strong.
Julian is staring at me with a softened expression, but thankfully, he keeps his hands to himself. If he touches me, I might not keep it together.
I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “By the way, Ma was so beautiful and famous. Lines of men waited in front of the brothel for her. So I don’t even know who the hell my father is.” I release a bitter laugh. “I doubt Ma knew either. Whenever I asked her, she said that my father was the streets. He was a cruel, brutal father, and I needed to be strong to survive him. So I was.”
“Then what are you doing here, Firefly?” His tone isn’t accusing, merely curious. “What are you fighting for?”
God, I wish I could tell him about Zoe, but knowing his ties with Mist – and possibly Ghost – he might hurt or kick me out. I might be inexplicably drawn to Julian, but I never for once ignored the danger he emanates or that robotic look.
So, I try to play it safe. “I’m fighting for my family. I have debts, remember?”
He narrows his eyes the slightest bit. “You have a family?”
“A friend,” I whisper. “She’s been my family since Ma’s death.”
A glimmer of something unrecognisable covers the lines of his face. It’s like he’s reading everything from my expression to the meaning behind my words. “How come she never visits you?”
“She’s travelling,” I croak, then quickly follow up with, “I don’t want her anywhere near this place.”
“You shouldn’t be anywhere near this place, either, Firefly.” There’s an unusual softness in his voice and face. I nearly melt.
“Would you hurt me?” My own voice is barely audible. “If I screw up, would you kill me?”
His eyes darken. “You intend to screw up?”
I offer an awkward smile. “I’m asking what if.”
“I don’t forgive betrayal, but...”
“But?”
The intensity in his eyes almost swallows me. “I want to trust you, Firefly.”
“But you can’t.”
“Because you’re not allowing me to.”
“I’m just scared.” I’m surprised by my own words. Because I am. Of him. Of the roots I’m growing in this world for him. I was supposed to only come for Zoe, but now there’s Julian, and I have no idea how to handle it anymore.
The lines are becoming blurry.
I try to change the subject. “I mean, I heard a rumour about the girls being hurt if... you know...”
“We don’t hurt the girls.”
“Never?”
“Never.” There’s isn’t the slightest doubt or hesitation. He’s telling the truth.
A long breath, I hadn’t realised I was holding, leaves me. At least Julian didn’t hurt Zoe. No idea why I’m unexplainably happy about that.
It’s because of this stupid happiness that I shut my eyes and edge closer to his chest.
“You should be scared, Firefly.” Julian’s arm wraps around me in a steel-like embrace. “Now that you’re in my world, I’m tempted to never let you go.”
That’s ought to terrify me, send me running for the hills, but a small, foolish part thinks, Then, don’t.
13
Ghost
Shadow is filling me in about the new factory’s production, but I’m only half-listening. The wallpaper in the hallway, leading to Mist’s office, is turning into a blur.
For once, it’s not because of Omega’s withdrawal symptoms.
It’s all due to the woman I left sleeping in my bed. That bed used to be a place on which I threw my body whenever exhaustion reared on my nerves. Just a necessity to regroup after Omega’s detoxification.
Since Elle started sleeping in my arms, that bed is becoming my favourite place to be.
It’s only been two weeks, but hugging her to sleep has turned natural. Although the most natural thing would be to flip her under me and sink inside her, she’s usually asleep when I get back and remains in deep slumber when I set out. So I just hug her.
For now.
When she sighs and leans into my arms, it’s strangely enough to wean off the chaos in my head.
When she mumbles in her sleep with that furrowed expression, I want to take all that pain away. I want to make her feel safe and protected. Forget about the streets’ life and what she suffered.
Sometimes, she wakes up in the middle of the night, throwing punches in the air and freaks out when there’s no light. I know it’s because of how she found her mother. While my own mother abandoned me, I don’t remember any connection with her. Elle does, and it still haunts her. I want to kiss those fears away, but she always hides anything that could show her as weak.
It drives me fucking nuts when she shields her true self from me, but I tolerate it and just hug her back to sleep.
Because the truth is... what will I offer on behalf of those fears? A more violent life. Hades on our back, Omega in our bloodstream, and a family of assassins. Who in their right bloody mind would ever sign up for that?
I’ve been an impulsive idiot by claiming her as mine. But just the thought of Kyle – or any other man – putting his hands on her shoots fire through my veins.
Would I make that decision again?
Absolutely.
“Mate!” Shadow snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Where did you go?”
“I’m here.”
“A load of cobblers! You were also distracted during this morning’s workout.” He stops in front of Mist’s office. All usual humour washes off his face. “President Joe, Hades and even the bloody police are
on our arses. This isn’t the time to zone the fuck out.”
I run a hand on my face. He’s right. This isn’t only about me, it’s about the lives of the people I consider family.
Hawk is still being tortured, and Celeste doesn’t have anything useful.
“I’ll be fine.” I clutch his shoulder. He tenses, and I quickly drop my hand. The hell is wrong with me? I know he hates being touched. “My bad.”
“Just get your head out of your tits,” Shadow growls.
“The right line is: get your head out of your arse.”
“Same thing.” His inquisitive gaze roams over me. “You sure you’re all right.”
“Yeah.”
“Do I have your word?”
I groan. “Why does everyone keep demanding my word these days?”
“Because you’re not yourself these days, mate. Your word is the only thing I trust.”
“You have it.”
Seeming satisfied, he opens the door to Mist’s office, and we walk inside.
Mist is sitting on the sofa, for once not watching her phone. She’s in her sleeping robe. The sleeves are short, showing the cuffs’ scars on her wrists – that she always hides. Her hair is dishevelled and dark circles surround her eyes. A half-full glass of scotch is in her hand and an empty bottle rests in front of her.
Has she been drinking all night?
I thought she would snap out of it with time, but her state is turning from bad to horrible. She doesn’t even show up at the club anymore. If she’s not bothering to even change her clothes, then it’s worse than I thought.
“Hey, old hag, you’re here.” Shadow throws his weight on the sofa opposite hers and flings his arm on the back. “I didn’t recognise you with all the wrinkles.”
She sips from her drink and doesn’t even acknowledge him.
That’s a first.
“Ghost.” Her pointed gaze falls on me. There’s the slightest slur in her voice. Mist has high alcohol tolerance, so she must’ve been drinking heavily to reach this level. “President Joe asked for a meeting in three days. Either you agree to whatever he says, and somehow transfer the new factory to him without Hades’ knowledge, or we start our distribution.”
