Hawk's Revenge

by N. M. Catalano

  Yeah, I was stupid.

  I learned a long time ago, the only person I can rely on is myself. People either leave you, betray you, or destroy you. I’ll do what I’ve always done. Survive. Fight. And let the anger feed me.

  I will NEVER trust anyone.

  “Goddammit!” I lean my forehead against the cases of beer lining the shelves of the store room. It’s small, quiet, and isolated. My cave. The place I can fall apart, so I can piece myself back together. Breathe in, then out, in, then out, eyes closed, no one here to see my pain, no one to witness my wounds leaking their poison and infecting me once again.

  “Jo,” the sound of my name is so quiet, I don’t think it’s real. But I hear it again. “Jo.” That time I can’t deny someone is here.

  I turn toward the store room entrance.

  Oh my God, what is he doing here?!

  Hawk is standing there, his tall frame filling out the space of the closed door behind him, motionless, expression hard and unreadable. Except now, he’s back in his white t-shirt.

  He’s so perfect, solid and still, like a statue carved out of marble. The room suddenly becomes charged with electricity with a livewire running directly from Hawk to me. My skin tingles with the current and sensations travel across my skin lighting me up with his intensity. The muscles of his arms adorned with ink that snake up under his short sleeves disappear only to make you want to explore his hidden secrets. With your fingers, hands, and your tongue. His dark expression is a warning sign that teases you to dare trespass, knowing that the consequences are more than you’re willing to pay, but promising, if you survive, it’ll be so worth it. Hawk is a beast, a silent predatory primal being who has two very powerful, but equally mesmerizing sides. He radiates dark carnality, a silent promise of erotic hedonism that dares you to enter into his realm. The predator warns you he will kill you and enjoy doing it.

  It infuriates me that he found me like this.

  “What are you doing here?” I sneer. “Did your owner send you to check up on me?”

  He takes a step toward me. “No.” He’s calm and sure, like always, no emotion, completely unaffected, indifferent, and utterly untouchable. It pisses me off more.

  I turn my body to face him completely, tense and rigid, now vibrating from the anger that exploded at the sight of him. “Oh really? Then please do tell me exactly why you are here.”

  “You,” his tone is even.

  “Hah,” I let out a disgusted laugh, almost too high, a telltale sign I’m this close to needing a strait jacket. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not part of your job. Why don’t you get out of here and go play with the rest of the boys?”

  There’s a flash of something on his always impassive features, his jaw ticks and his nostrils flare. “It’s just a job.”

  “Right. What’s your job right now? Frank send you here? Is he out there?” I shrug my chin at the door as everything from the night of my lesson comes back with a vengeance. I can’t stop the tears from welling up in my eyes, the one’s that had pooled before he arrived, as a sob clogs my throat. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry! The last thing I want is Hawk, or anyone else to see me being weak.

  “No, Jo, he’s gone.” I’d swear there’s a hint of tenderness in his tone, but I’m not sure he’s capable of it. I wouldn’t believe it if I saw it. He’s too hard, too impassive, too cold for that emotion.

  Hawks piercing eyes hold me prisoner, those intense and riveting eyes, his very own lie detectors that are ripping away all of my defenses, not missing a thing. He takes another step toward me, he’s so close I can reach out a hand and touch his chest, I can feel the heat emanating from his body, and his nearness makes me tremble. He’s beautiful, the angular sharp lines of his face, the naturally tan complexion with a dusting of dark stubble, a perfect marriage of textures, rough and soft, one lulling, the other scraping you raw. His lips. Soft and full, hold promises of deadly truths you don’t want to hear, and pleasures you’d beg him for. His midnight black hair always looks like he’s been running his hands through it, shiny and thick, it makes you want to slip your fingers through the strands to feel his only apparent softness. But his body is a testament to what is hidden beneath his stoic veneer. His tall, muscular frame barely contains the controlled power that hints at his underlying danger, warning you he takes no prisoners and has absolutely no mercy. Even after hours of being in the bar, I can smell him. Man and earth, sun and leather, strength and darkness. It makes my body hum as his heat washes over me. I don’t care that he’s standing so close to me, I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

  It’s best to know everything about your enemy.

  I lock my eyes with his. “Why?”

  He closes the distance between us, his body so close now it practically grazes my own. I can’t stop my own bodies reaction to him, to that blatantly sexual predator in the guise of a villain. “What’s going on with you and Castillo?” his voice is low and gravelly.

  Rage explodes inside me as Frank’s words from that night echo inside my head.

  You’re mine. It’s time you learned that lesson.

  “GET OUT!” I yell in his face as I plant my palms on his firm chest and shove him. Instantly, his hands wrap around my wrists and immobilize me, his grip locking down around me.

  “No,” his voice remains calm. His eyes flick back and forth on mine, his gaze intense as he studies me. “He controls you,” he states quietly, his piercing eyes narrowing as if he can read all of my deepest darkest humiliations in the depths of my eyes. I scrunch them shut, locking him out and all of my shame in.

  “Shut up!” I yell in his face as I try to break free.

  “But not all of you,” he continues as if I hadn’t said anything, his hold like a vice.

  “You don’t know anything about me!”

  He doesn’t flinch, I don’t even know if he’s breathing, he’s so immobile and in control, a formidable wall of stone that would crush you if you piss him off.

  “Why do you let him, Jo? What power does he have over you?” his grip tightens as anger flashes in his eyes.

  My heart pounds and my body trembles from all of the pent up emotions I’ve been keeping locked up inside like a keg of TNT getting ready to blow.

  Because my father practically sold me to him when he died with that damn loan! Because he owns this whole town and he can do whatever the fuck he wants! Because no one can help me. I thought you could, but not even you! You’re one of them, you’re one of the enemy.

  I don’t say any of that. Instead I scream at him, “I hate you!” as a tear slips down my cheek. I want to lash at it, I hate that he sees me like this.

  His nostrils flare as he stares into my eyes. Our eyes battle, locked together. His look is so intense; I swear he can see straight inside me, obliterating everything that’s separating us. I’m wishing I could burn his eyes out with my glare. Then those piercing eyes narrow, like he’s having some internal debate, a whole conversation with himself. What is he thinking? What is he going to do, drag me out of here and throw me in Frank’s lap? Then he pulls my arms behind me, locks both my wrists in one big hand, and cups the back of my head with the other. “Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs. His mouth crashes against mine as his hand holds me in place, forcing me to take his kiss. It’s rough and unforgiving, and detonates another explosion inside my body.

  Fear crawls up my spine mixing with the potent lust burning through me, a lethal cocktail I’m swallowing frantically from his kiss.

  I fall against him, my mouth releasing all the fury within me in the kiss, the years of loneliness, the years of isolation, the years of needing and not allowing myself to. I kiss him with every single emotion I have, I give it all to him because he’s demanding everything, taking it all from me, and I can’t stop him. I kiss and lick, suck and bite, and pour all of my rage into him. My body is a mass of confusion; I want to push him away as I press harder into him, I grind myself against him while wanting to lash out at him. I want to feel his
lips all over my skin, but know I should turn away. I want to hit him as his touch sends tremors through my body. A moan slips unchecked from deep within me from the storm churning inside me, I can’t stop it. With his lower lip imprisoned between my teeth, I can taste the metallic flavor of his blood on my tongue. It sparks something feral within me.

  He lets out a long animalistic growl as he shuffles me back and presses me against the metal shelves and slams the length of his body against my front. The primitive sound detonates the animal inside me, hungry for something I hadn’t realized I’ve been yearning for. He’s hard, I can feel his thickness captured between us. I have to stop myself from rubbing against his thickness as desire shoots through me with a chaser of fuck-me-now. He is war, and he’s unleashing his fury all over me. Releasing my wrists, I take the momentary opportunity to slap him.

  He doesn’t move, as if he hadn’t felt the impact at all. I know I hit him hard, my palm is stinging, the sensation melding with every other thing he’s making me feel.

  “I hate you,” I hiss again.

  His face is so close, I can feel his warm breath against my lips, only intensifying the after effects of his kiss.

  “You should.” I think he finds some sick amusement in that.

  “You’re one of them,” I seethe.

  That wins me a reaction. The corner of his sinfully delicious mouth, that mouth I want all over my body, slowly lifts in a smirk. “That’s where you’re wrong, Jo. I’m nothing like them.” His eyes search mine, deep and intense, a tumultuous fire of lust and danger. “I’m worse.”

  I swear to God, I’m sure he felt my heart slam against my chest. My eyes race back and forth on his, searching for something, anything to tell me exactly how bad he is. I know I should fight him off, he’s just warned me how bad he is. He’s the enemy. My mind’s telling me to run.

  My body is demanding more.

  Slowly, he places a hand firmly at my throat and holds my chin so my eyes are fixed on his. “What are you doing in here?”

  I’m riveted by his stare, imprisoned by his eyes, demanding I tell him only the truth.

  “Hiding,” I whisper.

  He makes this noise deep down in his throat, a rumble, and his chest vibrates against mine, causing a chain reaction within me. My core trembles with his erection still pressed against me, pulling a line that tightens everything inside me, shooting straight to my breasts and making them throb. All I can do is drag my lower lip between my teeth and clench my jaw tightly, captured by him.

  His gaze drops to my mouth. I can feel it like it’s gliding against my lips as if it were his tongue.

  “From who?” his voice is lethal, like Tennessee Whiskey, and it burns just as badly as it seeps through me in all the right ways. I want to get so drunk on him, it will hurt me tomorrow.

  You! I need to hide from you. I don’t say that; I don’t say anything.

  The truth is I don’t want to hide from him.

  Instead I answer, “Everyone.”

  His gaze is fixed intently on my mouth, like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. With his palm at my throat, and his fingers clenched on my jaw, I can’t breathe. Not because of his hand, but because of the blood rushing to my groin and the flash of heat from his touch. His touch burns me in the most exquisite way, and strips me without moving at all. I’ve never felt as exposed as I do right now.

  “You need to.” The rough words drag across my skin like his tongue.

  “I know,” it’s barely a whisper.

  His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare as his thumb strokes my jaw. “The things I want to do to you.” His voice is as dark as his promise, licking my insides with fire and infecting me with his venom. He’s barely touching me, but he seeped through me, claiming my breath and every part of my body. I swallow beneath his palm. I know he felt it because his gaze dropped to my lips. I want him to do all those things his words were supposed to threaten.

  His eyes glide back up to mine. We stare at each other as he lowers his mouth to mine, our eyes locked together as our lips touch and his tongue sweeps slowly along the seam of my lips. Watching, staring, studying, tasting, teasing.

  “You’re watching me,” my lips move softly against his.

  He gives me a halfcocked grin. It’s not kind, it warns me he’s going to eat me alive. Do it. “I watch everyone.” Then he pulls my lower lip between his teeth and captures it between them. My body cries out begging to feel the sweet sting of his teeth all over.

  He’s sucking me into him completely, I can’t hold myself back from pressing into him, wanting to feel him everywhere, and needing to push him away.

  “You should hide, Jo.” It’s a warning, but I’m not sure if it’s from him, or from Castillo.

  He glides his hand to the back of my head and fists a handful of my hair, his lips still on mine. My mouth falls open as he tilts my head back with the hold he has on my hair. What are you doing to me? I have to stifle a moan of pleasure. My eyelids dip as the sweet sting shoots through me. “You’re worse, Hawk.”

  “Much,” his mouth is at my throat. He takes the tendon that runs down the side of my neck between his teeth and presses down lightly, then licks over the bite. My palms land on his chest and fists the fabric of his shirt. His mouth leaves a trail of soft bites and licks down the column. I want to offer myself to him as a sacrifice, anything he wants just so he won’t stop. The hand in my hair turns my head where he wants me, controlling every move I make, putting me exactly where he needs me. Then his hand is gone. I almost whimper from the loss. His big palms land on me, his heat branding me with his touch. They travel over me and leave a fiery trail wherever he touches me. He feels so good, his hands, his body, his mouth, all of him is a drug that’s waking me up from my five-year long coma. My head is swimming, but my body has never been so alive.

  “Leave,” my mouth rasps the intelligent command. It could quite possibly be the last coherent thought I have.

  “No,” he mumbles as his teeth graze along the flesh.

  I can’t fight this, I can’t fight him, I’m a turbulent war of emotions, wanting him to take me as fiercely as he’s kissing me, and wanting to run as fast as I can. I drag my nails down his front, hard and deep enough to leave a trail on his flesh, trying to push him away and pull him closer.

  “We can’t,” I breathe out heavily as I fist his shirt and bite a line over his jaw.

  “I know,” he grits out as his hand slides down and covers my mound with a possessive grip.

  My hips thrash into his touch with a primitive need. My entire body pulsates from his touch sending me to a point of no return.

  “He’ll hurt you,” I pant, because Frank will, and he’ll hurt me too.

  I know my words and my actions are complete contradictions. I only hope he listens to the right one.

  “He can try,” Hawk smirks. It sends a thrill through me, igniting the tremor of trepidation I’d had when I first laid eyes on him. I like it, and that scares me.

  But that. That right there rips away the last thread of my resolve. Because he’s not afraid of Frank, which means he doesn’t control him.

  I work his pants, frantically fumbling with the button and zipper. No one has touched me since the night Frank Castillo almost broke me. No one has tried, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t let anyone close. I withdrew inside myself, hiding inside the shell of my body where it was safe. I must have been waiting. Waiting for someone to show me that maybe I wasn’t alone.

  Hawk’s got my shirt and bra shoved up over my breasts, the heavy aching globes begging for his mouth, his tongue, his attention. It’s been so long. “Please,” I hear my plea not realizing I’ve said it. I get his jeans open and grip him. My God, he’s so thick and long and hot and hard. When his shaft twitches in my grip, I know he’s affected just as much as I am.

  He cups both my breasts in his big hands and brings them together. He’s rough and uncouth, the kind of man who would rip his enemies apart with his bare
hands. God help me, I want those hands all over me. “Fuck, Jo,” he grits out as he buries his face in my breasts, his mouth ravenous as he sucks, tongues, and nibbles on me.

  Yes! My head falls back against a cardboard box.

  For a moment, I worry that he’s going to see the traces of scars on my body, the hair-thin lines that travel across my front. They’re barely visible, but I know each and every one of them. They have been the only intimate companions I’ve had these past five years.

  They’re not enough to make me stop.

  He’s got my jeans open and peeling them down my legs. I hesitate, my eyes locked with his, this big powerful man in front of me. From the minute I saw him, I knew he was either salvation or complete destruction. I don’t care. I want to give into him, give into this storm that has raged between us since the minute he walked into my bar. The thing about storms is there is always a calm before the wreckage.

  Right now, more than anything else, I want him to destroy me.

  “Why are you here, Hawk?” I whisper, afraid of what his answer might be, but I have to know.

  He doesn’t break the stare. His gaze bores into mine as long drawn out seconds pass with each pounding beat of my heart, I couldn’t break it if I wanted to. The heat of his touch where his hands lay on my body penetrate me to the marrow of my bones, imprinting him into my flesh. Finally, I watch his mouth, that mouth that’s driving me to the point of no return, as he answers. “I don’t know.” His voice is rough and tight.

  Our eyes search each other, looking for something. I can’t read him, and I don’t know why, but I believe him. His lips crash down on mine again with an urgency neither one of us can control. It’s wild and animalistic and ready to burst out of control.