by K. M. Raya
I burst through the door and the man doesn't even flinch. He just raises his head—watery green eyes meeting mine in annoyance as I stalk my way through the room. “Get the fuck off her,” I snap. “Now!”
“Holden?” Angel says, wiggling her way out from beneath the giant. Reluctantly, the man moves, standing to his feet, but not before crossing his arms over his expansive chest and glaring at me like he could burn me to a pile of ash.
“You can leave,” I tell him, but he makes no move to comply. He may be larger than me, but I’m not afraid of him in the slightest. He’s just a goon—expendable and unimportant. “I said fuck off.” I flick my head in the direction of the door, but the goon just settles in by adjusting his stance a little wider.
“You can go, Nic. I’m fine on my own,” Angel tells him and his irritated eyes flicker to her in annoyance.
“I’m supposed to be training you for the next hour, now isn’t the time to sneak off with your boyfriend,” he grumbles.
“I’m not her boyfriend, meathead, but she I have some things to discuss that don’t involve henchmen.” His eyes narrow and I can tell already that he wants to hit me. My lips pull up into a small smirk. He has no power here and he knows it.
“Just go,” Angel repeats, pushing on his back lightly. He doesn't move an inch right away, but I feel my lip pull up in a snarl. I don’t like her touching him at all. She may not be mine, but she’ll never be his either.
He stalks from the room in a huff, and I can’t suppress the bitter smile that stretches my lips in satisfaction at seeing the douche with his tail between his legs. I’m watching him closely enough that I don’t realize I’m down until I’m seeing stars. The next thing I know, I’m staring up at the white ceiling with blood dripping from my nose. Reaching up, I swipe my hands across it and look at my palm, marveling at the dark crimson streaks.
“You have two seconds to walk out that door, Holden. I have nothing to say to you.” Angel’s voice is hard and unfamiliar. She sounds colder than I’ve ever heard her.
Gathering what little bit of dignity I still have inside of me, I bring myself to standing, until I tower over the little blue pixie girl once more. I can still feel my nose bleeding, but I’ve had much, much worse. In fact, I’m actually sort of impressed. I hadn’t even seen it coming. She’s getting better, now that she’s back in her element again. I guess it was all just a game to her—pretending like she needed us to save her ass when it was her playing us like puppets all along. How long had she been hiding a different side of her?
“What, are you fucking him now too?” I sneer, but the fire in her eyes only burns brighter. Her pretty face twists up in disgust. I hate to admit it, but a tight ball of tension leaves my chest at the look of utter repulsion on her face at the suggestion that she might be fucking that henchman.
“I’m not fucking anyone, and you know it. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t come here on my own, Holden.”
“I’m not here to talk about your lies, little bird.” I wipe some more blood off on the bottom hem of my shirt. I watch in fascination as her chocolate eyes briefly dip down—scanning my exposed abdomen. She bites the inside of her cheek.
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
Frowning, I step in closer, noting the fact that she makes no move to retreat. “What’s your father's game? Is his offer real, or is this a setup?” I don’t really know why I’m even asking her—as if she’d even tell me the truth.
“How the fuck should I know?” she asks, crossing her arms over her still heaving chest. My eyes latch onto the knuckles of her right hand—seeing the scabbing cuts slashing over that pearly smooth skin.
“What happened?” I nod my head, eyes never leaving her knuckles. Her whole body stiffens.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. “Angel turns away from me, sauntering over towards the drinking fountain in the far corner. She’s avoiding my questions, and rightfully so, but I want to know what caused those cuts. I want to know if that fucking goon’s been doing more than training her. From what she’s told us, she doesn’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to mafia men.
I don’t let her get very far before I run up on her, swiping my foot out, causing her to hit the ground hard. I don’t feel bad as I hear the air whoosh out of her because the ground is padded. She curses and rolls to the side. Glaring up at me, she rolls up onto her elbows.
“Are we five years old? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
My smile is mean. “You like fighting so much, why don’t you fight me?” I crack my knuckles. I’m already dressed in my workout gear. I didn’t plan on sparring, but what the hell, if she’s game, then so am I.
She laughs. “You want to spar? You never spar with me…” her frown is contemplative. She’s right though.
Even after we both started working at the gym as physical trainers, we never sparred with each other. For some reason I never let myself physically harm her, even if it was just pretend. Every time she tried to coax me into it, my mind and my body would rebel and lock up. Flashes of her dangling from that rope with blood pouring from the cuts in her skin swarm my mind and they’re enough to make bile rise up in my throat.
Angel’s the toughest chick I’ve ever met, but I’ve never wanted to be the cause of any more of her pain… but things have changed. She changed me. The moment it was revealed that she betrayed us all, she’d sealed her own fate. It’s no longer my job to protect her. If she wants to get physical, then this is the only way it’s gonna happen.
Angel
I’ve never seen this particular look on Holden's face before. I’m not quite sure how to feel about it either. He still watches me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm, but there’s something hiding in his eyes that scares me a little.
Out of all my guys, Holden Kingsley has remained mostly a mystery. He doesn't talk about himself every much—preferring to live in the now, rather than rehash the past. I know his life hasn’t been easy, and that his parents abandoned him a long time ago, but I could never really coax the full story out of him. Since that first day out by the beach when I mentioned them, he showed me how little it takes to make him clam up and close himself off. Since then, I never really bring up his past. I’ve steadily respected the fact that some things are better left un talked about. He’s never really offered me that same privacy though. As closed off as he is about his own past, he never really gave up on trying to coax mine out of me.
Holden watches me with dark, calculating eyes as I begin to circle him. My movements are almost done without conscious thought. My body is sizing him up like prey, regardless of the fact that I’m pretty sure he can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. It’s not that I’m weak—I’m definitely not that, but Holden is just… massive. I shiver. He towers over me with those bulging arms of his and those glorious hands that used to do amazing things to my body once upon a time. He’s powerfully built, and I know firsthand what those muscles were made to do. A tremble snakes over my skin as phantom memories flood my mind. My body craves his touch—those calloused fingertips and the way they felt as they pressed on my clit…
When his back hits the mat hard, he surprises me by smiling wide. Stretched out over his torso, I try to keep him pinned, but a part of me largely believes he's just letting this happen. He’s honestly not even trying. "You're enjoying this," I snarl, to which his smile only widens. His eyes flicker to my lips briefly, and my heart rate kicks up a notch. It only makes me angrier because he's not really here for this. I'm not naïve enough to think he's suddenly had a change of heart.
"I've always wondered what it’d be like to spar with you." He cocks his head. "Never thought this would be so satisfying. " He rolls his hips, causing my whole body to rise and fall. My stomach does a traitorous little flip.
Latching a hand to the back of his head, I yank him back by the hair until he curses. His body goes limp. But at least he stops thrusting. "You think this is a fucking game, Kingsley?"
I ask through gritted teeth. Rolling off him, I don't even bother to stand. I just sit there staring at his prone form with my arms hanging over my knees. "This is funny to you?"
I'm out of breath, but Holden still seems perfectly fine, regardless of the fact that I just slammed his head into the mat and grinded on his dick a little—even by accident. He does, however, reach him behind him as he sits up. Rubbing his hair with a small wince. "There's nothing funny about it, Angel. I just find you amusing sometimes."
His words make my chest tighten. "Isn't there somewhere you're supposed to be right now?” It’s not that I want him to leave necessarily, but if he’s just going to be an ass then I have better things to do with my time.
Lies. All lies.
"I don't have a schedule, if that's what you're asking. But I guess you have your own schedule now, right? You just picking up where you left off?"
I frown, looking away while I fiddle with my fingers. "He makes me do this shit."
He thinks on that for a second. "Has he always been this... intense?" Holden asks curiously. His tone isn’t even accusing or snappy. It's just curious.
"Who, Papa?" I ask dubiously. "What do you think?"
Holden rolls his dark eyes. "I don't know what to think anymore. It’s not like we ever sat down and talked about him. All those times I tried to get you to open up about your past, you just shut me down. I guess now I know why..." he grumbles.
"I never wanted to talk about it because I thought it was behind us, Holden. I never thought I'd have to open that particular vault of memories again. But trust me, if I could have avoided it any longer, I would have."
He scoffs. "Do you even hear yourself?" His voice is mocking. "You seem to be under the impression that you're the only one around here with a messy past. Is that what you seriously think? That you're the only one with daddy issues?" He laughs bitterly. "We all have trauma, little bird. You aren’t as special as you think you are.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.
Holden levels me with serious, flashing eyes. "I'm just realizing a lot of things. From the moment we met, you've been a mystery—a fucking riddle. Unraveling your past has become somewhat of an obsession of mine... but now I’m wondering if we've all just been wasting our fucking time." He shakes his head dejectedly.
He’s right. In so many stupid ways I know he’s right. What reason do they have to believe a word I say when I've closed off myself for so long? And I did lie to them. Maybe not about what they think I lied to them about... but I did keep that secret phone... I did lie to them about keeping contact with Mama, and ultimately that contact ended up being my downfall. We were found because of my recklessness, but any excuse I could give him would fall on deaf ears. He doesn't want to hear it.
Fiddling with my fingers, I take in a deep breath and flick my eyes up to meet his again. “I’m sorry about everything…” His mouth flattens into a thin line. “I know you don’t believe me, and I know you don’t particularly care… but the reason I never opened up about my past was because I wasn’t ready yet. I thought we had forever ahead of us.” His eyes flash with agony for a split second before he shutters it. “I thought we had time to work through everything. Talking about the past meant talking about the things we did to each other. It meant owning up to all the blood on our hands.” I rake my hands through my sweaty hair, pulling it from my ponytail and securing it once more. “I never pushed you either, I hope you realize that. I respected your right to keep some things private, and I thought you would give me the same respect back. It wasn’t about hiding anything, or any of that double agent bullshit you guys are trying to force yourselves to believe.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I just shake my head sadly. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Holden.” I meet his eyes with tears brimming in mine. “I’ll love you until Papa takes my life someday—” he sucks in a sharp breath, brows furrowed into a deep frown. “But if you ever once had any faith in me at all—in us, then you won't take things at face value. There are things about my screwed up life that I can’t even begin to explain to you. There is a reason for everything I do and every decision that makes no sense on the outside. But if there’s one thing I want you to know with absolute certainty, it’s that nothing about our last year together was a lie...”
✽✽✽
Jolting awake, my scream is stifled by a large hand over my mouth. My knee comes up to knock them off of me, but the weight of their body holds me to the mattress. Snaking my hand up and beneath the pillow behind my head, I grip my familiar handgun, swiping it free and leveling it at the side of the person’s head. My heart is thumping wildly and memories of that night so long ago assault me. Panic swells in my chest.
“Shhh, stop—” a familiar voice whispers in the darkness. I stop moving. “It’s me, little bird.” I go still, a long breath leaving my body in a wave of relief. I’d know his voice anywhere. He must realize that I won’t make a sound, because after a few moments he relaxes too. I release my hold on my firearm and lower it to the table at the side of my bed. Holden removes his palm from my mouth. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see his handsome face illuminated by the shafts of moonlight making their way through my curtain.
“What are fuck you doing? I could have killed you!” I whisper-yell breathlessly, eyes flickering over his face like I’m starving for even a glimpse of him. His hair is loose tonight, and he’s wearing a ripped sleeve black tank top along with a pair of black joggers. Seeing him like this floods me with memories so strong that my body physically throbs.
Licking his lips, Holden sits up a little, his warmth leaving me cold and aching for him to come back. I clamp my mouth shut though, not wanting to sound like I’m desperate or anything... because I’m totally not.
“Why are you here?” I ask again.
He smirks. "Is that a serious question?" His hand roams my thigh.
Rolling my eyes, I just sigh in frustration. “I don’t mean here in my bedroom, you horny shit. “He smiles widely, and it takes serious effort not to giggle. “I mean why the fuck did you come here?” I sober.
“In what world do you actually believe I wouldn’t come after you?” His tone is so matter of fact that it makes my chest ache.
"It was reckless."
He nods curtly. "You’re right, it was reckless. But so was believing what I saw on that fake ass cell phone."
Sucking in a breath, I force myself not to hope too much. "So you believe me."
“I believe you,” he whispers.
“Why?”
“Because I know you, little bird.” He taps my forehead with the tip of his finger, reminding me of our last day by the water before my world went up in smoke. “I know you backwards and forwards… inside and out.” He shakes his head, black strands of hair shaking around him. “I was a fucking idiot for not realizing something was wrong about this whole situation.”
Soft lips capture mine. The kiss is no more than a whisper, but I can feel his arms shaking on either side of my head. He's holding himself back. I kiss him back. All these weeks alone in this bed have starved me of touch... starved me of affection. Holden moans into my mouth as I press closer, licking him, biting him and drinking him in because I'll never get enough. He leans onto one elbow to hold himself up while his other hand sinks into my hair, latching on tight enough to make me grunt.
"I need to be inside of you..." he whispers against my lips. My hips come up off the mattress, seeking him out, but we're still separated by my thick blanket.
"I missed you so mu—" he cuts me off with his lips again. We kiss in a frenzy, both desperate to get closer. My mind is clouded by his scent, the feel of his hot skin against me and the sting of his fingers pulling on my hair. I can't think. I can barely breathe. But something in the back of my mind is screaming at me to slow down. I don't want to obey that voice. What I want is to let this man consume me whole.
Holden scoots off and rips the blanket from my ba
re legs and tosses it onto the floor before climbing back over me. I've slid up the bed, but he smirks and grabs ahold of my ankles, dragging me back towards him. I land in his lap as he kneels on my mattress. I can feel his cock through his pants easily given the fact that the only thing I'm wearing is an oversized t-shirt. It takes more effort than I care to admit to rip my lips from his and turn my face to the side. His lips meet my cheek before he pulls back, sighing before he lays his forehead on my shoulder.
“Why do you suddenly believe me, what changed?" I ask him, not even sure if I want an answer. I remember the hate in his eyes then first time I saw him at Papa’s table. Not a shred of the Holden that I knew was there in that stare. But as his dark eyes raise to mine, and that soft, cocky smile stretches his lips, I have no doubt in my mind that something's changed.
"Do you remember that last week in Seaside... " he starts.
My whole body tenses. "You act like it wasn’t just six months ago, of course I fucking remember," I snap.
Holden grips me tighter, running a hand through my hair, instantly calming me. "I just know you don't like talking about that night... but hear me out okay?" He waits. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I just nod reluctantly. He's right. I do hate talking about that night—that whole week actually. I hate reliving that nightmare.
"Do you remember the way you felt when that blindfold was ripped from your eyes?" he asks and I nod again, remembering it with perfect clarity. The blindfold was made of silk, and the dirt between my bare toes felt icy and rough. I remember the haze of moonlight, blinding me through the fabric right before they ripped it off my face and shattered my heart to pieces.