by W. Winters
“No thank you,” I tell him, “I was just heading inside.”
“No you weren’t,” he says as he lights the cigarette, the tiny flame illuminating his face. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb as he says, “You just came out here.”
“I made a mistake.” I’m quick to answer and it only makes him smile.
“Yeah you did,” he says and the smile morphs from cocky to something else. Something sinister.
“I have to go,” I say and turn my back to him, heading for the door. But I only take a single step before his hand is wrapped around my hip, pulling me backward and into his hard chest.
“Get off me!” I yell out and drop my clutch as I try to pry his fingers away from me. He’s holding me with a bruising force, the tips of his fingers digging into the flesh at my hips.
“Hey now,” Liam says, nearly laughing the words as he spits out the cigarette and covers my mouth with his other hand. “Hush, hush, it’s okay,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. The cocktail of smoke and lingering alcohol mixes and fills my lungs as I heave in a breath. This is not happening.
I yank my elbow back with everything I have and shove it into Liam’s gut. He releases me and I don’t waste a second, I run for the door straight in front of me. My shrug falls off and I’ve already lost my clutch, but as far as I’m concerned, it can stay wherever it is forever.
My palms slap against the glass door, forcing my body to come to a halt and the doorman looks at me with complete surprise as I stand there doubled over and desperate for air.
I’m shaking and completely wrecked. I’ve dealt with drunken men and roaming hands before. But never from a man angry with my supposed fiancé. I can barely wrap my head around what happened. He grabbed me. He held his hand over my mouth.
The door opens and even though I feel like I’m going to be sick, I walk in, trying to hide what’s happened, but completely unable to compose myself. My legs are shaky and I still struggle to come to terms with being grabbed like that. I don’t know what to do. I grip onto the man’s arm and try to clear my head from the fog of shock, but I’m not given long before a strong grip pulls me away from him.
I yell out in surprise and fear until I realize it’s Mason. He holds my forearms and forces me to look at him, and I lose it.
“Jules?” He says my name, compassion and worry evident. I shake my head, and say the only thing I can think of. “Liam—” I say but then my voice croaks, unable to get out the rest of the words. Unable to express what just happened moments ago.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and his concern turns to anger. I can’t say for certain what he was going to do, but there’s not a chance he didn’t know I was scared. He knew he crossed a boundary. “He… he—”
Mason releases me quickly, slamming his arm into the door and forcing it to fly open as I nearly fall to the gleaming marble floor.
“Jules!” I hear Kat call my name from behind me. I hear the commotion around us. I can see from the reflection in the glass a crowd’s come to watch.
I can’t respond, I can’t even turn to her or form a single thought concerning all of them.
Even as she pulls me to stand straighter and puts her face close to mine, grabbing onto me and trying to get my attention, I can’t give it to her. All I can do is watch Mason disappear and wish he’d just come back. I need him.
Kat grips my face with both her hands and forces me to look at her. I stare into her worried eyes and confess in a ragged breath, “I’m not okay.”
Mason
Anger cannot be denied,
It cannot be contained.
Carnal sins and violent ways,
Its brutality cannot be chained.
It’s passion that drives the fist,
It’s fear that leaves the cage.
Every movement desperate,
Pain seeping through the rage.
Every hot breath turns to white fog in front of my face, and it pisses me off. It obstructs my view of the bastard standing right in front of me. His back is to me as he taps a carton of cigarettes against his palm.
He should have run while he had the chance.
“Liam,” I call out, my chest rising and falling, my lungs filling with ice-cold air.
Knowing him, he’d fucking love for me to make a scene. I’m sure I’m playing right into his hand, and I don’t give a damn.
He’s drunk and looks high. His suit’s disheveled as he turns to me with a half-cocked smile on his lips.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her!” I say as I walk forward and get closer to him. I have no intention of talking. I don’t need to find out what happened or why. All I know is that she was terrified. And the only thing she could say was his name.
He’s a dead man.
“How do you know what she came out here for?” he asks with a smirk, and I swing my fist as hard as I can into his pretty-boy smile.
I grab his collar, using it to hold him still as I hammer my fist into his face over and over again.
I smash my knuckles against his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth, the skin splitting open on contact. At first he shoved against me, a pathetic attempt to push me away. He doesn’t stand a chance.
I can feel her slipping away, and I’m so fucking desperate to hold on to her. I clutch his throat, forcing him still.
My teeth grit against one another as adrenaline pumps in my blood. Crack! His nose breaks as my knuckles collide with his face and I lose my hold on him. The back of his head slams into the ground. I don’t stop, I can’t. All I can see is red. I lower myself to the ground but he gets in a punch, surprising me. His fist crashes against my cheek and whips my head to the side.
I barely feel it. The taste of metallic hot blood fills my mouth, but that doesn’t stop me either. All it does is fuel me.
“She’s mine!” I scream out and Liam’s eyes widen with fear. I must sound crazy. Even to my own ears, the words I yell out are those of a madman. The worst part, the most sickening, is that I don’t care. Maybe I have lost it. Maybe I am crazy when it comes to Jules. I’m perfectly fucking fine with that.
I yank him up by the collar, my knees sinking into the freezing snow and the thick silk fabric of my suit pants slowly absorbing the melting snow. He slams another fist into my face, so low on my chin he nearly catches my throat, and I return the blow by headbutting his nose.
He screams out in pain and I drop him to the ground.
My breathing is erratic, my vision blurred. I know I’ve won, but I can’t stop because never in my life has it been more apparent than seeing Jules quaking with fear that I’m losing. I’m losing it all.
I pull back to smash my fist against his jaw again. To hear the satisfying crack, but two arms wrap around my chest and pull my back into a hard wall of muscle.
“It’s just me. Just calm down,” someone says from behind me. An angry growl rumbles through my chest as I throw my head back to smash the fucker’s nose in. He leans away and I buck him off of me, ready to beat the piss out of him too.
Until I see who it is. It’s Evan, and I can hear Kat screaming at him to break us up. They need to stay out of it.
“He tried to hurt her! He put his fucking hands on her!” All the boiling rage rises to the surface and I take it out on Evan. Everyone needs to stay the fuck away.
Liam deserves everything that’s coming to him.
I get one more punch in when Liam lurches for me, and his head snaps back from the blow. It lands square on his chin, and my knuckles scream from the sharp impact against his jaw. His lip splits, but it throws him off. As I lunge forward, Evan’s hand grabs my fist and he twists his body to the side, making me fall forward. He pins my arm behind my back and again grabs me, my back to his chest.
My breath comes in heavy pants and I struggle harder when I hear Jules cry out. I can’t see her, and I can’t see Liam. I shove backward, but Evan’s a strong bastard.
“Knock it of
f,” I hear him grit through his teeth as the sound of a car pulling up catches my attention. I lift my eyes and see the headlights, but no one gets out. No sirens. It’s not the cops… yet.
“Think about Jules,” he tells me, his breath close to the back of my neck as I push back against his grip. “It’s only about Jules, all right?” he says as I stop struggling.
I stare down at the ground, at Liam laying in the snow that’s speckled with red. He’s propped up on an elbow and on his side. In the bright streaks of light from the limo headlights, the blood shines a bright red against the pure white snow.
Liam spits, and another splash of red paints the ground.
“Mason,” Jules calls out as she runs over to me, and the second my attention goes to her, Evan releases me.
My muscles are still wound tight and ready to go off. My fists still clenched even as she runs into my chest. I kiss her hair as I hear the limo door open and far too many people—too many witnesses—gather around.
“Leave,” Evan tells me in a low voice. “It’s mine, I’ll take yours.” He nods behind me and I glance at the white stretch limo before nodding my head. The rough stubble on my chin brushes against Jules’s hair. I meet his crystal blue eyes as he says through clenched teeth, “Go! Just get the fuck out of here.”
Jules
Intentions—cruel, helpless, hopeful,
They come in different shades.
They leave the nights with bright light,
And sharpen the dullest blades.
They bend your will and change your plans,
And make you do bad things.
They don’t change the outcome,
Nor stop what justice brings.
My thumbnail nervously scrapes against my fingernails one at a time. I don’t have polish on, although I wish I did so I could pick it off. I’ve always done this. A nervous habit, I suppose.
My eyes drift back to Mason. His head is back against the headrest and it jostles as the limo drives over a speed bump. His hands are clasped in his lap, the knuckles torn and bloodied and his eyes are focused on the roof of the cabin.
His cheek is already bruised. There’s a split on the left side of his lips. My fingers itch to touch it. To comfort him.
He hasn’t said a word. Silence is the only thing that accompanies us.
I swallow thickly as his head turns to the side and he stares at me. A burning sensation prickles over my skin and begs me to look away, but I can’t. It’s hopeless.
He licks his lower lip, the tip of his tongue sliding down the cut as he sets his hand on my thigh. I watch as he swallows and then breathes in heavily, all the while holding my gaze. Even blind eyes could see he is a damaged man.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, deep and heavy and riddled with pain.
“Are you?” I question back with just as much sincerity, but Mason presses on.
“I mean after Liam grabbed you?”
The lump in my throat expands as the memory comes flooding back.
I shake my head immediately, closing my eyes only to recall the unhinged look in Liam’s eyes. I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. Mason immediately pulls me into him, holding me. He never fails to comfort me. I breathe easier enveloped in his warmth and resting my head on his chest. I love that he comforts me but just this once, I want to be the one comforting him.
He rocks me softly back and forth for a moment. As I calm down, the guilt weighs heavily on me. Both times now that I’ve tried to leave Mason, I’ve come to face regret and remorse for my actions.
“I shouldn’t have gone outside,” I say, letting the confession drift between us.
“Why were you out there?” Mason asks me, and it only solidifies the offense. I don’t answer. Instead I look away, my cheek still resting on his shoulder and his arms still around me.
I hear him swallow and let out a strangled breath before rocking me again ever so slightly. He doesn’t let go of me though, and he doesn’t question me again. I’m grateful for both.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I watch the lights of the city slip past us in a blur on our way back to his home.
His deep voice rumbles, “Are you?” There’s no animosity there, no curiosity either. Simply a flat question devoid of all the emotion he just gave me a moment ago.
“I am.”
A moment passes in silence and the limo rocks us as it passes over another speed bump before Mason kisses my hair and moves me to settle in his lap.
“It’s okay,” Mason says, running his hand down my hair to my back as he consoles me. He plants a soft kiss on my shoulder and my neck, and then a sweet kiss on my lips before looking me in the eyes. He gives me a sad smile and then kisses me once more before saying, “It’s okay, I understand.”
His forgiveness is what shatters me. His love and devotion to my happiness are what will ruin me entirely.
“Are you okay?” I ask him genuinely once again, desperate to put the attention and comfort on him. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he left me. The primal man he became. The way he fought Liam… because of me. My voice catches in my throat as I finally lean toward him and let the tips of my fingers trail over the faint bruise. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He turns his head, capturing my fingers with his hand and kissing their tips before looking at me. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jules.” His eyes brim with sincerity. “You never did,” he says.
Tears prick my eyes, and I don’t know which cause is in the forefront. The fear of what happened tonight? The desire to run away from what my life has become?
Or the love I feel for this man.
Maybe it’s something instinctual for a woman to want to stay with someone who would fight to protect them. Maybe I feel I owe him for what he’s done. All I know is that I can’t deny what I feel.
His cold gray eyes stare deep into my own as he cups my chin in his hand and his gaze falls to my lips. He says softly, “I need you, Jules. Even if it’s not real…” his voice chokes at the word but he continues with a pained look in his eyes, “Right now, I just need to feel like you love me again.”
His hand slips behind my head, holding me still as his fingers tangle in my locks and his hot lips press against mine. I mold my lips to his and part them when he traces the seam with his tongue. My body obeys his and he takes full advantage, pushing against me until my back hits the seat and he settles his hips between my legs. He pins my hips down as he rocks against me, all the while stealing kisses and deepening the intensity. I break away to breathe.
My chest rises as he nibbles along my neck, desire shooting through me and making my nipples pebble.
“I love you, Jules,” he whispers into the crook of my neck.
My heart aches. I want to love this man, not because of him, not because of his actions, but because of how I feel about him. A true love-hate relationship. Hot and cold.
I can see myself falling into his arms while simultaneously making plans to sneak out of his bed late at night. I’m ruined beyond repair, and I only blame myself.
Mason
It slips through my fingers,
That which I cannot hold.
I cry for it, would die for it,
This love I can’t control.
The only friend I ever had is dead to me.
The woman I love tried again to leave me, and only came back because she was threatened.
My father may be trying to kill the woman I love. If not him, then someone else.
I’ve run my business into the ground and with my reputation in the shitter, I don’t think I’ll ever come back from it.
Last, a secret is out there that could destroy me, evidence that I murdered a man, and I haven’t a clue who it is that knows or what they have on me. I’m waiting in the dark, and I can feel my sanity slipping away.
I imagine this is what they mean when they say rock bottom. I slip the heavy law textbook back into its place on the bookshelf as I hear my father’s office door
open and then close. I don’t turn around to face him. I don’t have to in order to know it’s him.
My father's voice bellows from behind me. “You need to relax, Mason. That shit you pulled—”
“What does it matter?” I say, cutting him off and turning to face him as his forehead creases with anger.
“You look like you’ve lost it,” he hisses at me, slapping the newspaper in his hand down onto his desk as he takes his seat.
“I have though, haven’t I?” It’s the conclusion I come to, knowing Jules was going to leave me. Again. That’s what did me in this time. I take in a heavy breath.
It’s all the lies too. Keeping track of them has pulled its weight in bringing me down.
I don’t even know what’s the truth anymore or who to trust. I only know that I hate everyone I’m surrounded by except for the one person who’s desperate to leave me.
“I need the truth,” I say, getting straight to the point as I stare my father in the eyes. Although I know it doesn’t matter, I add, “Don’t lie to me.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Ma—” my father starts, intent on saying something else, but I cut him off.
“You lie to everyone; why would I be any different?” I shrug my shoulders and stride closer to his desk, my pace quick and careless.
“What’s on your mind then?” he asks, his eyes narrowed and his frustration barely contained. He must see how on edge I am. I can practically smell the fear coming off of him. The fear of not knowing what I’m going to ask, or maybe of what I’m going to do. “You called this meeting,” he adds as he sits back in his cognac leather chair. He unbuttons his suit jacket and adopts a casual posture.
“Did you kill her?” I ask him in a whisper.
He cocks a brow at me before answering in a deathly low voice, “I’ve never killed anyone.”