Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals)

by Heather Long

“Fowl and funny?” The tart response cracked me up. A real laugh escaped me, and her eyes brightened. Whatever darkness I’d tempted out of hiding retreated.

  “Fine, I’ll leave the poetry to the experts.”

  I leaned away, but she swatted me lightly. “Don’t do that. I thought it was lovely, but you said flower and you don’t call me something floral like tulip or pansy or marigold.”

  “Because to me you are a swan. Elegant. Exceptional.”

  Another smile graced her lips. “I think you’re pretty cool too.”

  I snorted.

  “You know,” she continued. “Despite your temper and anger issues, you take care of everyone. Even me. Even if I didn’t see it until you built that studio for me. You’re an amazing guy, Jasper. That’s the guy I want to get to know.”

  I didn’t really have a response to that. My anger had helped me survive for far too long. The rage…we needed it to keep us all going. But she didn’t want my rage. I wasn’t sure what I was without it.

  At my silence, she sighed and then she leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to my cheek. Like the caress of her hand earlier, it burned through me, branding me.

  “Thank you for trying,” she murmured. “I think I’m going up now.”

  Two steps.

  She made it two steps before my baser instincts overrode the brain stutter locking me up. I was on my feet and after her. When I touched her arm, I barely closed my fingers around it, and then she was tumbling into me. Capturing her face in my hands, I locked gazes with her before I sealed my mouth to hers. One brush of my tongue, and she opened to me, the sweetness of her a tease on my lips as I breathed her in.

  Maybe I didn’t have the poetry to communicate what I felt, but I could damn well show her.

  First Blood

  Jasper

  The walk from the fence to the warehouse Freddie had shown me took us almost ten minutes, even when we quickened the pace. Urgency thrummed in the air and beat against my skin in a staccato rhythm like razor bladed raindrops. Milo said nothing as he kept up with me while I weaved through the closed and derelict warehouses. Once upon a time, all of these warehouses had been used to keep cargo, sort it, and move it—some inland, some back out to sea, and still more into the city.

  Now?

  It was a lot like the rest of Braxton Harbor—crumbling and forgotten. Shoving the litany of thoughts cascading through me, I focused on where we were. The deeper we ventured, the eerier the warehouses looked. Some even took on an air of menace, doors open like gaping holes into a broken past.

  Even for an abandoned area, the quiet was too much. I forced myself to blow out a breath before taking another.

  “There,” I said in a much softer voice than I’d intended. Then again, this whole place pressed in on us. There were other warehouses deeper into the city yet still along its perimeter. Places where the foundation had surrendered completely. “That’s the one.”

  But here? Here, the battle had long since been lost. I didn’t want to think why a place like this called to a kid like Freddie. Milo caught my arm before I could walk right through the door of the building, cracked open like someone had tried to close it and the latch simply hadn’t caught.

  I looked at Milo, and he nodded silently toward some debris on the ground. Abandoned tools. Crowbar. Metal rods.

  Got it.

  After tossing my cigarette into a puddle, I scooped up the crow bar. It was heavy as fuck. I flexed my grip as I rebalanced it, so I could swing it. Milo tested a couple of metal rods before he picked up one that was about the same length as the crowbar and had a huge screw bolted to the end.

  One could never be too careful. We’d learned that lesson the hard way. Without a word, I cut through the small space ahead of Milo. His glare burned against my back. We always jockeyed for who took point. I wanted him to hang back because if there was trouble, let me get into it. He wanted me to shut up because I was too hotheaded—his words, not mine—and let him take the first crack.

  On this, I doubted we’d ever agree.

  I’d just have to keep being faster. The interior of the warehouse was dark. Oppressive. Almost hateful and haunted. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. The air was rank, populated by mold and mildew.

  One hand on my shoulder, Milo stood like a silent sentinel as our eyes adjusted to the dark. Bit by bit, shapes began to distinguish themselves. Shipping containers. My brain supplied the source of that funky smell as metal rust.

  I started forward, but Milo tightened his grip and I stopped as he tugged me back. He tapped my ear, and I cut a look to him. In the shadows, I could barely make him out, but he had a finger to his lips, then he moved the same finger to his ear.

  Listen.

  I was trying too hard to see, so I closed my eyes and focused on what I could hear.

  Scuffling and scratching. Rats probably.

  Slow drip. The distance between the plops was probably a roof leak, because it had rained overnight.

  Creaking of boards. The wind hitting the building?

  Crying. Almost inaudible.

  Freddie.

  Now that I’d heard it, the sound scraped against my senses. It was coming from the right. Eyes open again, I found the dark less ominous and just harder to see in, but I could make out enough to navigate.

  This time when I moved, Milo tapped my shoulder and stuck with me. I didn’t worry about what was behind us because he’d warn me while I made sure we got where we were going. Back-to-back, we weaved a haphazard path through the dilapidated building and its abandoned shipping containers.

  The jagged sound of crying grew louder. The hammer of my heart thrumming in my ears threatened to drown out the sound, but we needed to find the person sobbing so brokenly.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the sobbing was right next to us. We moved along the side of the shipping container when the first end we’d reached was closed and smooth, no doors. On the opposite end, we found it was cracked open like the door had been.

  More, there was some kind of light in there. It burned my eyes so adjusted to the dark. Behind me, Milo had begun typing something on his phone. I dug my hand into the pocket and looked for the button on the side to turn it off. I didn’t want mine to ding.

  Done, Milo shoved his away, and when I glanced back at him, he nodded. The crying shredded me. It was too close to how my mother would sob after one of Dad’s beatings. How she would try to stifle the sound, smothering it, even if I was right there trying to hug it better.

  My stomach rolled, and the sound of my father’s fists raining down blows as she tried to cover her face with her hands and arms flooded through me. Not worried about the quiet anymore, I raced forward.

  We had to get in there and save…

  The metal of the door screamed as I yanked it open. The light inside came from a couple of portable lanterns. Their dim light was still too bright against my dilated eyes, and tears gathered as I squinted to find Freddie curled in the corner with some filthy bedding.

  He was naked, and he had his arms around his knees, rocking himself. The sobs grew louder and his whole body flinched as I rushed toward him. I skidded to a halt and stared around the empty space.

  Only it wasn’t empty.

  Freddie wasn’t alone.

  A man lounged, half dressed on another pile of blankets.

  Hate swelled within me as the man opened his eyes. “Shut your fucking crying,” he muttered. “You know you wanted it, and I told you I’d bring you back home.”

  Then it registered I was standing there as the guy’s unfocused eyes locked on me.

  Freddie let out another sob that he choked off. The man growled and lunged toward me, and I swung the crow bar. It connected with a meaty thunk, and a spray of warm blood hit my face. The man howled, more in pain than fury, and I rammed into him and swung the crow bar again. Bone crunched and more blood sprayed.

  I wasn’t alone. Milo was there, cutting off the guy’s escape, and he crashed his pipe
to the guy’s kneecap. The sound was vicious, visceral, and so fucking satisfying.

  He needed to hurt. Like he’d hurt her. Hurt Freddie. My father’s eyes blazed fury up at me as the guy roared, and he took a swipe at Milo with a fist. The blow missed when Milo danced back out of reach, and I swung the crow bar again. This time, I got his wrist and shoulder.

  The man went down. My next blow missed because he managed to drive his shoulder into my chest. I couldn’t breathe as all the air whooshed out of me. The move slammed me into the side of the shipping container. Something cut through the shirt and bit into my skin.

  One minute, he had me against the wall, and the next, he was howling on the ground. Vaughn let out a damn near preternatural growl of sound that made my skin shiver. He’d broken the guy’s arm, and it was twisted at an unnatural angle.

  I felt my brothers more than saw them.

  Liam. Rome. Kellan. Vaughn. Milo. We were all here, and the predator had become the prey.

  No one said a word as Kellan slammed his foot into the guy’s face. Liam went next, driving his foot into the guy’s groin. Rome landed on him like a savage, kicking his back and shoulders repeatedly.

  Milo and I went next. We skipped the weapons. Fists and feet took longer to inflict the damage we wanted.

  I didn’t know who he was or why he’d done it, but he’d hurt one of us.

  We’d extract that cost in blood. Freddie’s sobs quieted as the man’s sounds died away. Soon, the only thing left were our blows, and even those stopped.

  Bathed in blood, we’d extracted vengeance without remorse.

  Chapter 23

  Emersyn

  I literally couldn’t get enough of the way his mouth felt against mine. Jasper didn’t just kiss, he breathed me in as his lips took control. Anticipation gave way to curiosity, and that still left me wanting. I thrust my fingers into his hair as his arms banded around me. I’d left the floor, but I let him have my weight.

  The slam of my heart against my ribs was almost painful in its intensity. The tickle of his beard on my face as he pushed past my tongue with his own, only to suck my tongue back into his mouth, made for competing sensations.

  More.

  I needed more.

  “You can have it, Swan,” he promised in between drugging presses of his lips. I could barely open my eyes as I swayed, then he dragged my head to the side as he nipped my lips, then my jaw. “You can have everything.”

  A door opened and then we were in the dark, but he hit a switch on the wall, and suddenly, stars seemed to illuminate everywhere. It was enough to chase through the haze of passion as he sucked and bit a path along my throat. I tilted my head back to stare up at the lights.

  Faerie lights.

  They were all over the walls in crisscrossing patterns, like a network of stars surrounding us, and I gasped as he pulled at the collar of my shirt and laved his tongue over my collarbone.

  “You taste so good, Swan,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. With calloused fingers, he traced my jaw and then pressed his thumb to my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked it against my tongue. His head snapped up to lock onto me. The slate gray of his eyes was lost to the dance of low light over his face, but their intensity burned into my soul and I swore my pussy clenched.

  When he sat down abruptly, I folded my knees to straddle his lap and then, with a hand in my hair, he pulled my face to his. It forced me to release his thumb, but the taste of him lingered.

  Long, soul searing kisses alternated with biting sucks and hungry swipes of tongue. “I want you,” he whispered in between the kisses, and I rolled my hips against him, grinding against the feel of his erection. Reality tried to tiptoe back in, but his hands were under my shirt and cupping my breasts through the bra. The rough thumbs teased the hard points of my nipples.

  We were rapidly tumbling out of control. My heart thundered in my ears, and my breath came in panting gasps. An ache unfolded within me that I didn’t have words for. Vaughn had awakened it, and Jasper seemed to do the same. That need was like a black hole inside of me, devouring every touch, kiss, and soft word.

  “Be mine,” Jasper demanded in a harsh voice as he shoved my shirt upward. Momentarily blinded, my arms trapped as he jerked the shirt back, it forced my chest forward and blind panic erupted, even as he sucked one desperate nipple against his teeth. Even through the bra, the heat of his mouth seared me. A rush of warmth soaked my panties, and I clamped my knees tighter to him as he bent me half backwards.

  A scream clawed its way up my throat, and I bucked under his touch, wanting him desperately and needing to be free in the same breath. Shudders rolled through me as he bit down on the nipple, just a hint of teeth, and pleasure blacked my vision.

  My shirt was gone and I was cuddled against his chest, sobbing for air, as Jasper rubbed my back. “Hey,” he said as I pulled back and looked at him. “You back with me?”

  The worry and fear in his expression sobered me. Concern rolled off him in waves, the energy snapping at the air. I swore he was furious. Yet none of that fury was present as he kept rubbing my bare back. My pulse still raced, and I blinked at the wetness in my eyes. I wiped the dampness away with trembling fingers.

  “What happened?”

  “You freaked out a little,” he offered with the barest hint of a smile. “I know it’s been a while for me, Swan, but it felt like you were enjoying it.” The sheepish note covered for something much deeper. The words crackled with everything he wasn’t saying, and while I might not have a Jasper decoder, it wasn’t hard to decipher.

  “The shirt,” I said after a moment, piecing it together. The hot and cold flush racing through me prickled my skin. “You were trying to kiss my breasts and you trapped my arms and I couldn’t see…” Dark memories I refused to examine surfaced to bite at me like swarm of angry mosquitos, each one sucking just a little more of the blood out of me.

  “Won’t happen again, Swan,” he swore. “I just got eager to play with these beautiful tits of yours.”

  A laugh slipped out of me as I wiped at the tears on my cheeks. I still couldn’t quite catch my breath.

  “Who scared you?” The hairs on my arms stood at the very real menace in his tone. “That fucker Eric?”

  “He’s gone,” I reminded him and pressed a hand to his chest. The wall of muscle beneath his shirt tensed at the contact.

  “Was it him or someone else?” Undeterred by my answer, he tilted his head to study me. “Just give me a name, sweet girl.”

  Uneven laughter escaped me at his attempted coax that came out as a growl. He curved his hand against my ribs, leaving tingles to ripple over my flesh, creating goosebumps in their wake, even as my nipples tightened again. When I shuddered this time, it had nothing to do with fear or the past. I was very much present.

  Despite my reaction and the way he stroked his fingers against my ribs, almost lazily petting me, he said nothing. The contact both soothed and stimulated in equal measure. I studied his lips, the firm shape of them, how they were compressed as if he held back the words by sheer force of will.

  We were still in the darkened room, surrounded by the faerie lights. The taste of his lips was still on my tongue as I put myself back together. We’d been on a promising path…

  “When are you going to trust me?” The question raked through me, slicing through the warmth ribboning around me and leaving us in the shredded remains. Though I sat on his lap and his erection was very much still in evidence, anger threaded through the sensuality.

  “It’s not about trust,” I said, uncertain of how to even put this in words beyond adding, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He frowned, the lines deepening across his forehead. “Swan, I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t need to be fixed.” Maybe I had learned a long time ago to leave it alone.

  With care, he cupped my face, and the tilt forced me to meet his gaze. I licked my lips and blinked slowly. “Swan,
what am I going to do with you?”

  “Well, I was going for fuck me, but I have a feeling you’re pulling away.” The words didn’t shock him into action. If anything, he just swiped at the tear tracks with his thumbs. Taking a chance, I pushed forward and brushed my lips to his.

  The barest hint of salt flavored the kiss as he opened his mouth, but he wasn’t kissing me back. I went for nibbling bites as he had, then traced the outline of his lips with my tongue. His groan vibrated through me.

  “Do you need to get off, Swan?” The mood burst with the roughness in his voice. “Is that what it will take to get you to trust me?”

  Real hurt echoed in that last question. The sting of it was like alcohol on open scrapes. Suddenly, he dropped his hands to my thighs as he stood and lifted me with him. I landed on the bed abruptly, bouncing as he let out a growl of sound that bounced right to my pussy.

  With deliberate motion, he yanked the shoes off my feet, then peeled down the socks. His temper licked along my skin as he hooked his fingers into my dance pants, snagging the panties at the same time, and then he dragged them off me with such painful slowness, I wanted to scream.

  Until it registered. “Jasper…”

  He stilled.

  “Swan?”

  “What would you do if I said ‘no’ right now?” I had to know.

  Chin down, he let out a long breath, and his fingers twitched against me where he gripped them against my thighs. I’d stopped him halfway. “I’d stop.”

  I closed my eyes. No hesitation. Just control. Even with the quiet fury punctuating the words. That anger wasn’t at me. It might be there, filling the room with us, lashing out like static tendrils shocking when contact was made, but he wasn’t angry with me.

  “Do you need me to stop?”

  For so long, I’d had no choices. Only the illusions of them. For so long. “Please don’t.”

  “Thank fuck.” He breathed the words with such vehemence, I laughed, and he tossed my pants behind him as he straightened. The miniature lights in the room blessed him with a corona, and I swore an almost crooked halo resting atop horns formed by his hair where I’d been pulling on it. “You’re beautiful.”