by Coralee June
My damn best friend and his bossy compassionate ways were going to make me do something stupid—like cry. Again. And I was really done with crying. I was done with feeling sorry for myself and for my family.
“Would you like a bubble bath or shower?” he asked while grabbing my hand to lead me to the bathroom. Once down the hall and at the door, we went inside, and I started disrobing. Nix bent over to pick up my clothes, holding the sweaty fabric a safe distance from his nose before tossing them in a laundry basket.
“Bubbles. Always bubbles,” I replied in a high pitched, dignified accent. Nix turned on the water in Gavriel’s clawfoot tub, dropping lavender oil and soap in the steamy water. We’d done this many times before back in our old apartment. He’d run me a bath and wash my hair, scrubbing and massaging my scalp until the bubbles were long gone.
“You think Gav will be home tonight?” I asked while settling into the hot bath. My skin burned with just enough discomfort to make it pleasant.
“I’m not sure. I saw him put some brass knuckles in his pocket before leaving. If I had to guess, I’d say that he won't be back until morning.”
I started shaving my legs as Phoenix pumped shampoo in his hands, lathering it up in his palm before scrubbing my hair. Two days after my mom died, Gavriel sent Blaise on a bounty hunt, and he’d just finally came back. They were both currently interrogating a man I wasn’t allowed to know the name of. “Your boyfriend is scary...in a tragically hot kind of way,” Nix said while continuing to massage my scalp. I closed my eyes and leaned back, moaning a bit as his nails slid along my skin. “If he weren’t so goddamn annoying, I’d have a crush on the bastard too.”
A laugh escaped my lips, and it was the first true smile I’d worn in days. It felt like an invisible burden was lifted from my shoulders.
“I don’t know, Nix. I think maybe you like being bossed around. Are you worried you’ve lost your touch?” I asked with a hint of playfulness that felt freeing.
Phoenix pulled my hair back, forcing me to look up into his beautiful eyes. “You think I’ve lost my touch, Sweets?” he growled. “I can assure you, I’ve still got it.”
Nix started tickling me mercilessly. I squirmed in the tub, laughing as I slipped along the porcelain and soap. “Oh God, please stop,” I choked out with sputters of laughter as splashes of water spilled over the edges. Happy tears trailed down my face, and I squirmed to get away, not really having anywhere to go. In a last ditch effort, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him into the tub with me with a resounding splash. We both laughed as he slipped around, trying to get up. Each time he fell, I laughed more, until genuine tears of amusement were streaming down my face.
Giving up, Nix settled, fully clothed, on the other side of the tub. “You’re a hot mess,” he said, as I settled deeper beneath the water, placing my feet on each side of him.
“So are you.” A lingering giggle escaped my lips.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while before Nix spoke again. “You’re gonna be okay, Summer. I promise it. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t take care of you.”
I knew he would. They all would. We just had to go through hell and back first.
Ryker was going to kill me.
Each time he wrapped his toned arms around my body and flung me onto the foam mat, I wanted to drag my nails along his muscular back and sink my teeth into his bottom lip.
Gavriel came home at five that morning, insisting that I start self-defence lessons with Ryker. He’d looked dark and tortured when he walked through the door. Three hours later, he had a gym rented out near his penthouse in the Upper East Side so Ryker and I could practice alone.
Ryker had a fight tonight at an underground club somewhere in the city. He’d followed us to New York while we figured things out, but he still needed to maintain his reputation in the scene. It was supposedly a small fight with an eager opponent from the Bronx, looking to prove himself. Gavriel forbid me from attending, mumbling something about my “sensitive state” before ordering me not to bring it up again.
Regardless of his extensive fight day ritual, Ryker was determined to start my training. Since the night I revealed why I ran, he had been itching for a way to feel useful and work out some of his rage. While we practiced, my bodyguard, Joe, sat outside and smoked a cigarette. I guess he was tired of watching Ryker kick my ass, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Are you even trying to get away?” Ryker asked with a frown. I was hoping that today would be playful, or at the very least enjoyable. But instead, it became just another avenue for Ryker to lash out his guilt at me. It was like a whip, striking any chance he got.
“Nope. I like having you toss me around, Ry Baby.” I had started calling him that once I learned it drove him crazy. He liked to be known as the fierce yet wise silent one, but I knew better. He wanted to shout out all his declarations of love and pain at me, he just didn’t know it yet.
“Stop calling me that,” he pleaded before advancing towards me once more. I turned around as his tall frame collided with mine, pressing the curve of my ass into him. He wrapped his arms around me, criss-crossing his forearms between my breasts. God, he felt so good. I took advantage of our position and began grinding my ass against his erection. He was just as turned on as I was.
“Is that what you’re gonna do when someone attacks you?” he asked, his voice smoky and warm. “Are you gonna dry hump your opponent?”
“If they look like you, then yes,” I replied without shame. If he wasn’t holding me down, I would have shrugged. I was tired of his moody behavior. Since the revealing of my secret and then my mother’s death, the Bullets had become one giant clusterfuck of guilt, fear, and anger.
“Not funny.”
Ryker let go of me, and I spun around to greet his green-eyed stare. I knew that it wasn’t fair of me to expect them to swallow the truth of my disappearance overnight. I had five years to cope—or run—from my shitty past. I’d been surviving since Summer Bright died. But I had hoped that they would handle the news better. Couldn’t we go back to normal? Or at least back to the frantic fucking-to-feel-something from when I’d first returned?
Last night with Nix ignited a fire within me. I couldn’t keep clinging to my depression. It wasn’t doing me any favors. I had to fight. Wrapping my hands around Ryker’s back, I leaped up, circling my thighs around his waist. “Is this right, Ry Baby?” I asked in a sultry tone. My breathing was shallow as I grinded against his tented athletic shorts, whimpering when heat shot through me like tendrils of passion.
Ryker dropped to his knees and pinned me beneath him, keeping my legs wrapped firmly around his waist. He held my hands over my head as I bucked on the foam mat. I half-heartedly twisted my body to get free, but he didn’t budge. “To win a fight, you have to know your opponent’s weaknesses,” he urged, gasping for air as he kept me pinned. Instead of struggling to free myself, I leaned up to kiss his salty lips, moaning when he immediately responded to my taste. Our kiss was like a fight, and I’d happily let him win. He released my hands to slip beneath my tight sports bra, pushing the tight fabric up to roll my nipple between his thumb and finger. I dropped my legs from around his waist. When I finally broke the merciless kiss with a satisfied smirk, he paused to ask, “What was that?”
“I’m your weakness, Ry Baby.”
He sat up on his knees, dumbfounded by my words, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that he even had a weakness. I took advantage of his confusion, and Ryker watched me as I scrambled to the other side of the foam mat and crouched down in the ready position Joe taught me earlier. Knees bent, arms raised to block a punch. I didn't adjust my bra though. Letting my heavy globes fall, I wanted his hungry eyes on me. “Yeah,” he began, matching my stance and lifting his fists to block his face. “You are.”
Ryker was all or nothing. He plunged headfirst into the depth of his feelings, owning each of them. Once he decided you were worth his time, there was no going back. I just wished
he’d love himself.
With a considerable amount of effort, and looking far less sexy than I would have liked, I stripped out of my tight sports bra and circled Ryker once more, enjoying the way his hooded eyes took in my pebbled, pink nipples. It was a risk. We only had the gym for another fifteen minutes. Pretty soon the owners would walk in. Just the idea that we could be caught had me feeling giddy.
The air was thick with lust and the smell of his sweat. A fluorescent light above us flickered, giving the room a dark mood. Despite it all, Ryker still made me feel desired, and that fact alone had me tingling all over with an anticipation so heavy that even my pulse felt labored. Ryker gave me a knowing smirk. What was it about him that made me want to risk being seen?
“You know what you’re doing,” he growled before advancing on me once more. I side-stepped him, but he was too quick. Using his left leg, he wrapped it around my hips, locking me between his thighs before bringing me back down to the mat with a thud. My head bounced against the ground with a small slap. I moaned, half from lust, half from pain. God, I wanted him to fuck me right here, right now.
But Ryker was stubborn. He was punishing himself for what he didn’t know, holding back from what he wanted because he thought he didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t just Ryker fighting his instinct to fuck me senseless. The rest of the guys didn’t know how to proceed either. My hair was fanned out around me, my cheek against the mat. “Are you going to do something about that erection digging into my side, or are you going to continue feeling sorry for yourself?” I asked.
When we first reunited, there was so much pain, anger, and need to feel close that our bodies practically collided on instinct. I knew the guys were punishing themselves, and I was sick of it. “You’re pushing me, Sunshine,” he moaned into my sweaty neck, trailing his tongue up and down my skin.
“Good,” I whimpered back. I twisted until we were facing one another, and I stole another kiss. Ryker let out a groan of frustration as he rocked back and forth, pressing his cock into that sweet spot of oblivion just outside my thin yoga pants, when I lifted a leg up and rested it on his hip. I was giving Ryker access to that delicious friction I craved, and he was taking full advantage of it.
“Stop acting like you don’t deserve this,” I said between kisses. “Stop punishing yourself. Don’t let him take that from us too.”
At the mention of him, Ryker went icy, his heart suddenly so cold that despite the heat from our workout, I had to shiver from the chill of his mood switch. All hot and heavy playfulness was completely gone. After a moment, Ryker pulled away and tossed me my sports bra. “Get dressed, our reserved time is almost up, and I need to get ready for tonight.”
I pouted. “You’re so wrapped up in the fact that you hurt me, that you’re hurting me again,” I choked out before threading my legs through the ropes boxing us in.
“Sunshine,” Ryker called after me. But I didn’t stop. I put on my bra as quickly as I could then met Joe on the busy street outside.
“Take me home, Joe,” I pleaded with tears making a slow processional down my face as the door to the gym shut behind me. I knew that Ryker wouldn’t follow after me. He didn’t think he had a right to. In typical Joe fashion, the sight of my emotional face made him cringe. I wondered if he was debating on running away from me. The man was practically repelled by feelings.
“For fuck’s sake, wipe the stress from your eyes, kid. People are going to think I hurt you or something,” he said while looking around.
Men in suits walked by, and I slipped Blaise’s hoodie over me, pausing to inhale and smile at the comforting scent of cinnamon. “Calm down,” I joked with a sniffle. “I swear tears aren’t contagious. Want me to buy you an ice cream? Are you feeling a bit hangry?”
I’ll admit, Joe had become an unlikely pseudo-uncle figure in my life. He hated me, but I knew that beneath his permanent scowl was a man that just was repressed by his need to be macho. When he thought I wasn’t looking, he’d call his wife to keep her updated on his whereabouts, giggling into the phone like a schoolgirl with a crush. He wouldn’t tell me her name or any information about their relationship, but I knew the man was absolutely pussy whipped.
“Haven’t you ever seen your wife cry?” I asked. “Women do it sometimes. It’s normal.”
He grunted in response and threw me a murderous glare, as if just the thought of his wife being unhappy had sent him spiraling. I held up my hands in surrender with a grin, “Okay, okay, I won’t bring her up again. I know you go all macho protective where she’s involved.”
I was determined to meet Mrs. Joe. When I was feeling particularly pathetic, I liked to pretend that Mr. and Mrs. Joe would adopt me. I imagined a future where we ate authentic Italian spaghetti in their apartment on Sunday nights. I just wanted to belong to a family, was that so bad?
We made our way to Gavriel’s apartment, and my new phone pinged in the pocket of my hoodie. It was from Ryker.
“I’m sorry.”
Simple, to the point. Typical Ry Baby. I wanted to respond but knew that he wasn’t much of a texter or even a talker. Ryker bottled up his feelings and fucked or fought them out. He had a fight tonight, so I’d just let him take out his anger on whatever poor motherfucker was up against him.
When the Bullets barged back into my life, it was too much all at once. It was like someone ripped the bandaid off an unhealed wound. I was bleeding. I was vulnerable. But now that all my secrets were out in the open, I felt like I could finally go back to using the carefully constructed coping mechanism I’d mastered these last five years:
On tough days, I’d deflect with humor.
On harder days, I’d keep so busy that my body physically couldn’t process the trauma.
And on those days where I could barely get out of bed, I’d sleep. I’d take that tiny pill of oblivion and pass out until my dreams bled into reality and I forgot everything.
Was it healthy? Maybe not. But it worked for five years. Exhausting twelve-hour shifts at shitty jobs, sarcasm, and pills were what helped me survive. I didn’t need the men I loved ripping apart every piece of my brokenness just to examine the pain. Sometimes, when shit hits the fan, you have to fake it until you make it. I just wished they would go back to pretending they hated me. I’d rather focus on that than the demons I was running from.
I stared up at Gavriel’s building. It was huge. Towering. Intimidating. I sighed. I wasn’t ready to go back to my pretty prison. My leaving allowances had been few and far between, and I wasn’t sure if it was because they were scared Santobello would find me or that I’d run away again.
“Do we have to go back?” I asked. I knew Joe was feeling just as stir crazy as I was. With any luck, he’d let me walk the block a couple more times before we went upstairs.
“We do have fifteen more minutes…” he said with a huff.
“Perfect. Just enough time to walk the block another time. And if we’re late, I’ll just take my top off and Gavriel will forget he’s pissed at me.”
Joe made choking noises like he was going to throw up, and I laughed at the bright blush on his puffy cheeks. I shot a quick text to Nix, letting him know my plan, and he immediately responded.
“Come back late. I love to see your man all worked up.”
Pocketing the phone with a smile, Joe and I then walked. We didn't talk; we didn’t really have to. It was nice to just see New York outside of Gavriel’s tower. From down here, I could see the energy of the city. People were happy. Angry. Full of life.
We stopped at a coffee shop, and I ordered my usual: black coffee with a splash of hazelnut syrup and two sugars.
“We should probably head back,” Joe said while glancing at his watch. He shifted back and forth on his feet, looking around uncomfortably while a slight blush covered his cheeks. “You think, uh, your distraction tactic will work?” he asked, refusing to make eye contact.
I burst out in a fit of sarcastic laughter. “Yeah, Joe. I think it will.”
Chapter Two
Gavriel's penthouse in New York was everything I'd expected it to be. Lavish and exclusive. The bellman looked like a tattooed, retired pro fighter. The decor was modern with a memorable view. It was gritty and extravagant—like Gav. I expected nothing less from my excessive Bullet leader but also didn't like staying here. His home was cold and lacked personality. And with security teams constantly coming and going, I felt like there was no privacy. Two weeks here, and I'd had enough.
"I'm dying for some pizza," I groaned to myself. Joe was standing nearby, close enough to hear me but far enough to ensure I didn't get any funny ideas about a friendship. Luckily, I kept the freezer fully stocked with vanilla ice cream. He may hate me, but he loved his sweets. I wasn't above bribery.
Telling the guys about my father lifted a heavy burden off my shoulders. It was like I'd finally taken a breath, my lungs could reach their full capacity, and my senses weren't on high alert. But telling them had its consequences too. Gavriel took his controlling protectiveness to an entirely different level. Not only did I have a Joe-sized shadow, he'd nearly tripled security.
I could handle the protectiveness. In fact, I enjoyed it. I was the only one responsible for my survival for so long that it was nice trusting him to make sure I stayed safe. Some might feel suffocated by that sort of attentiveness, but I found it freeing. I didn't have to look over my shoulder as often.
But with that, Gavriel started treating me like a fragile doll. His kisses were tentative and soft. I felt like a piece of cracked glass he was trying not to shatter further. I wasn't sure if he felt guilty for causing my last panic attack, or if he didn't believe that I was strong enough to handle his brand of passion. Either way, the tender approach was driving me mad.
"Which one of them are you thinking about now?" Nix asked while settling beside me on the couch. It faced the south window, giving me a perfect view of the city skyline. Lights twinkled in the distance as I shifted beneath a chunky, woven blanket. "Gavriel," I answered honestly.