Beauty in the Ashes

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I shook my head, not in the mood to talk to Emery anymore.

  I returned to the front of the store and found Memphis gone.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, but why did I still feel so stressed?

  ⌘⌘⌘

  By the time my shift ended and I started home, daylight was reluctantly beginning to break through the clouds. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was drop my bag by the door, flop face first on my bed, and cuddle Brutus.

  And that was my plan until I opened the door and he didn’t great me.

  “Brutus?” I called. “Come here kitty.”

  No cat emerged from anywhere in the apartment.

  I squatted on the floor, crawling on my hands and knees to peer under the couch and then the bed for the kitten.

  Nope. Not there. Or there.

  “Brutus?” My voice became high with panic.

  I checked to make sure none of the windows were open and that he hadn’t used one of his nine lives by dropping to the street below.

  They were all shut and secured tightly.

  How on Earth does someone lose a cat in an apartment this size? Seriously?

  Despite the early morning hour, I headed down to the Daphne and Frankie’s. I knocked on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

  “What the—?” Frankie muttered, opening the door. He promptly slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.

  “Have you seen Brutus?” I pleaded.

  “Who the hell is Brutus and why the fuck are you asking me about him this early?”

  Before I could respond, someone from inside the apartment said, “Baby?”

  A moment later Jen appeared. When she spotted me, she sent me a look that said she wished me a very painful death.

  Instead of acting like a bitch, which is what I’d normally do, I appealed to her. She was a female, surely she would understand the importance of locating my cat.

  I pushed past Frankie so I could see Jen fully, but didn’t venture into the apartment. I was rude, but not that rude. “Hi Jen,” I waved awkwardly. “I just got home and it seems that my cat is missing. You haven’t by any chance seen him, have you?”

  “Oh,” her face softened, the anger draining away. “What does he look like?”

  “He’s about this big,” I held my hands out. “He’s kinda black with orange and some white.” I clasped my hands together hoping she had seen him. I’d grown fond of the little fur ball.

  “Uh…” Her brows furrowed together. “That sorta sounds like the cat I saw with Gregory earlier.”

  “Gregory—? Oh!” I jumped up in place. “You mean Caelan?” When she nodded, I added, “Thank you so much!”

  The door closed as I raced back down the hall and pounded on his door.

  No one came.

  I smacked the palm of my hands against it harder in a slapping motion. “Open the damn door!”

  Nothing.

  “Fuck,” I kicked the door.

  If he had my cat, so help me God I was going to rip him to sheds. What kind of psycho steals a cat?

  I reached out, my hand wrapping around the knob. I twisted it and relief flooded me when it turned. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

  “Caelan!” I screamed.

  I stormed inside, turning my head left then right, in search of the resident asshole.

  I found him lying in bed, and there was Brutus snuggled up beside him.

  Anger simmered inside me, churning and heating, ready to burst from me like a volcanic explosion.

  I stomped over to where he was spread out across the bed fast asleep. He wasn’t under the covers, and all his shirtless glory would normally have been a feast for my eyes but I was too angry.

  My hand smacked sharply against the bare skin of his chest, the sound echoing through the room. Air gusted out of his lungs as he came awake and sat fully upright.

  “What the fuck?” He looked at me with wide blue eyes. “Did you just hit me?”

  “You stole my cat!” I screamed. “Hitting seemed reasonable. So does murder. You better hope I don’t find a shovel because I’m not against smacking you over the head with it and burying you in the courtyard.”

  “We don’t have a courtyard,” he muttered, rubbing at the red imprint of my hand on his body.

  “Then I’ll toss your body off the roof and make it look like an accident,” I glared.

  Laughter burst forth from his lungs. I didn’t think I had ever heard him laugh before. It was a shock to hear—oddly warm and masculine, I wanted to wrap myself up in it like a warm sweater.

  Wait, I should so not be thinking such pleasant thoughts about the cat kidnapper.

  “You’ve really thought my murder through,” he tilted his head, still massaging the sore area. I was starting to feel bad that I hit him so hard but he had stolen my cat. “I’m glad you’re so thorough. I believe I have some of those nasty smelling medical gloves around here somewhere if you’d like to use them so you don’t leave behind any fingerprints.”

  “I hate you,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I assure you, the feeling is mutual.” He reached for Brutus and shoved the cat into my arms, his claws scratching my skin, clearly not pleased at having his slumber so rudely disturbed. “And just so you know, Sutton,” he said my name slowly and with irritation, “I didn’t steal your cat. When you left, the door didn’t latch, and he got out. I found him outside my door.”

  “And if my door didn’t close, you didn’t think about maybe, I don’t know, putting him back inside and closing the fucking door?!”

  “You’re a very ungrateful person,” he remarked. “It didn’t seem fair to leave him by himself when he so clearly wanted my company.”

  “Do ridiculous things just fall out of your mouth? Or do you think you’re cute?”

  He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Don’t act like you’re not attracted to me.” He slowly raised his head, his eyes connecting with mine. My pulse jumped in my throat. The look he gave me…it was indescribable. I was once again reminded of this insane thing between us. “I’m glad you don’t deny it.”

  He stood from the bed, getting into my personal space once more. Brutus, clutched tightly in my arms, was the only thing keeping our chests from touching.

  My breath quaked and then stopped all together as his thumb brushed against my bottom lip.

  I desperately wanted to close my eyes to avoid his stare, but I couldn’t. I was riveted, wondering what he was going to do next.

  He was so hot and cold that it made him completely unpredictable.

  One minute I could see a glimmer of the guy he’d once been and the next a monster was in his place.

  A smart girl would have turned tail and run far away. A smart girl would never speak to Caelan Gregory. A smart girl wouldn’t keep coming back for…nothing. He offered me nothing. We were nothing.

  But I wasn’t smart.

  I followed my heart.

  And my stupid heart liked this crazy, moody, egotistical artist for some insane reason.

  We were both lost in a sea of self-torment and anger, searching frantically for a buoy to hold ourselves up.

  In that moment, I decided that’s what we were to each other.

  A buoy.

  God, I hoped neither of us let go, because I just might drown.

  “What are you going to do?” I whispered, my breath caressing his lips.

  “I don’t know,” he murmured, his thumb still making lazy strokes against my lips.

  He may not know what he wanted, but I knew what I wanted.

  I dropped Brutus and he went scampering away.

  Before Caelan could react, one of my hands grasped his shirt in a tight fist and the other wrapped around his neck, pulling him close.

  Our lips connected and it was like fireworks went off in my body.

  This kiss was nothing like our first. With that kiss, Caelan had been trying to make a point.

  There was no point to this—nothi
ng but pure unadulterated lust and passion colliding into a fiery explosion.

  My whole being yearned for him in an uncontrollable act of defiance.

  His mouth moved effortlessly against mine as if our lips were only ever supposed to touch each other’s.

  His fingers dug painfully into my waist and I knew his mind was warring with whether or not he should push me away or pull me closer.

  Closer, ultimately, won out.

  He twisted his body so that my legs were against the bed, then he lowered me onto the bed as he hovered above—never, not once, breaking the kiss.

  I clenched the short hairs at the back of his head, my fingers curling around them. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a voice scolded me, telling me that this was wrong and I needed to stop. After all, I was making out with the cat stealer. But I told that voice to shut up. The moment I decided to pick up my life and move here was the moment I decided to throw reason and logic out the window. I wasn’t going to start thinking like a sane person now.

  “You infuriate me,” he breathed, pulling his lips from mine and then raining kisses down my neck.

  My body arched, aching for his touch and the pleasure it could bring. No man had ever made every cell in my body feel so alive.

  His hand ventured lower, lifting the edge of my top. My breath stuttered as the button on my jeans popped and then his hand eased inside.

  His fingers caressed the soft skin there before delving inside.

  My gasp echoed around the apartment and my hands grasped onto anything to hold, settling on the curve of his upper arm.

  His darkened eyes met mine momentarily. Before he looked away I saw confusion, lust, passion, and anger swirling in their depths.

  As his fingers stroked me roughly, his lips sought mine. We were hungry for each other and I knew that every moment we’d shared, no matter how brief, had been leading to this. I wasn’t sure if this would be a one-time thing or what. Right now, as pleasure vibrated through my body and I shook with want, I didn’t care. All I wanted was for him to make me feel good.

  The games we’d been playing for weeks now had been building a frustration inside both of us—a frustration that only we could relieve by giving into the unavoidable.

  My hands slid from his arms to clutch at the bed sheets. My hips grinded against his fingers, aching for more and the release that was so close.

  I tore my mouth away from his and my teeth dug into his shoulder as the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had ripped through my body—and he wasn’t even inside me yet. Oh God. Could it get better?

  Panting, I collapsed beneath him, my limbs lying languid at my sides. He pressed his forehead against the curve where my neck met my shoulders. We both breathed heavily and were unable to move.

  Finally, he lifted his head. I thought for sure he was ready to continue to the grand finale, but that wasn’t the case.

  His face was full of hatred—whether aimed at himself, or me, I wasn’t sure.

  “Get out,” he hissed venomously, pushing himself off the bed and away from me.

  I couldn’t move.

  I was shell-shocked.

  My mouth opened and closed.

  Tears of anger pricked my eyes as I slowly sat up, snapping the button on my jeans back in place. I hated him in that instant, because he’d made me feel such insane pleasure and then yanked it away so quickly. He was impossible. I couldn’t figure him out at all. What kept holding him back? I wasn’t asking for a relationship and flowers and sweet words.

  God, why did I always have to do this? Get involved in broken things that weren’t mine to fix?

  I was beginning to see that there was no fixing Caelan. He had been far too damaged and his scars ran too deep. Mine did too. Only I didn’t show mine like he did. I didn’t lash out. Or drink. Or do drugs.

  But I hurt too.

  Couldn’t he see that I was as broken as he was and we needed each other? Why was he able to so easily ignore the powerful force twining us together?

  “Get out!” He yelled, his hand whipping into the lamp on his bedside table.

  My eyes closed and I flinched as the plug was wrenched the outlet and the lamp went flying across the room, smashing on the floor with a crash.

  “Get the fuck out, Sutton!”

  My eyes flew open as he grasped my arms, his fingers digging in to the point that I felt bruises forming. He shook me forcefully, so that my teeth clanked together.

  He kept shaking me and I felt like a rag doll clasped between his hands.

  “You’re hurting me!” I screamed. “Let me go!” I wiggled. “Caelan! Stop!”

  As quickly as he had grabbed me, his hands were gone.

  His mouth parted with shock. His fingers thrust through his hair as he stared at me.

  “I-I-” Words failed him.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow as he backed away from me. “No, I couldn’t,” he whispered to himself and I had no clue what he meant. His eyes were haunted and he looked scared. I didn’t understand what he had to be afraid of. Shouldn’t I have been the one running and screaming? He’d assaulted me.

  He kept walking away from me until his feet touched the tiled floor of the bathroom. He slammed the door shut and I heard a crash. I could only assume he’d broken the mirror.

  I stood slowly, gathering my cat, my dignity, and my pride.

  I would not let Caelan Gregory break me down. I was a fighter and I stood strong. Nothing scared me. Not screams. Not pain. And certainly not his temper. I stopped being scared a long time ago.

  CHAPTER 10

  Caelan

  My fist stung where the tiny shards of glass penetrated the skin. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I’d lost complete control of my mind and body. I’d been in plenty of fights, especially over the last five years, but I had never laid a hand on a woman like I did with Sutton. She hadn’t shown it, but I knew I’d hurt her. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  Trickles of blood dripped from my hand, down to the floor.

  I stared at the shiny red rivulets, instantly transported back to that god awful day I couldn’t fucking forget.

  The blood had been everywhere.

  Even now, I felt like I couldn’t scrub it from my skin. It had seeped inside of me, poisoning my very being, and turning me into a monster. I wasn’t sure if the transition had been immediate after their murders or if it had been gradual. I just knew that I wasn’t the same person anymore. I’d been okay with that. But maybe, not anymore. Going after Sutton like that was a wake up call. Losing my shit wasn’t cool. I couldn’t rationalize it to myself. Things had gone too far, but I didn’t see how I could stop.

  I banged both of my fists, one injured and one not, against the porcelain sink. The harder I hit it, the worse the pain was. It filled me up, blocking out all thoughts. As long as the pain remained, I didn’t have to remember what I had done to her.

  Sutton was destroying the very foundation I had built my life upon after the murders. She was an earthquake, shaking down my walls and exposing the Caelan that had long ago been buried. I didn’t want that Caelan to come back. He was better left dead. That Cael felt too deeply. He was weak.

  Anger bubbled inside me, coming to a boil.

  I lost all control.

  I ripped the bathroom door open. It smacked against the wall hard enough to crack the tile.

  Between Kyle and Sutton I was in a constant state of pissed off, it seemed.

  I wanted to tear my apartment apart, rip it to sheds, so that it would resemble the state of my insides—a chaotic, uncontrollable mess.

  I was spiraling out of control. I had been for a while.

  But Sutton was my undoing.

  I had known from the moment I stormed into her apartment, irritated about the noise she was making trying to hang those damn curtains, that there was something different about her.

  I had tried to fight it.

  God, I was still fucking fighting it.

  I had pushed h
er away.

  I had told myself to stay away.

  None of it was doing any good.

  She was a drug to me—one far more powerful than what currently ran through my veins. Those drugs shut me down. Sutton woke me up. The high was that much more intoxicating because of it.

  I stared around me, breathing slowly. I needed to calm the fuck down.

  I headed up to the roof. It was a safe place for me. I hadn’t been up there since the night Sutton appeared and revealed that she knew about my family.

  It was weird having her know.

  Even more odd was the fact that she didn’t look at me or treat me any differently than she had before.

  To her, I wasn’t broken glass that she had to tiptoe around lest she be cut.

  Everyone else avoided me when I let my true nature show, but not her. She was a mysterious creature that I couldn’t begin to fathom. Her reactions to dangerous situations were…non-existent. She didn’t flinch or show any signs of fear.

  Sitting on the edge of the roof, staring up at the night sky so full of beautiful clear stars, I decided that Sutton had been hurt too. There was more to her than I had even begun to know.

  I sat on the ledge for hours.

  For the first time in years, I wasn’t thinking about my next hit or how much I could drink before I passed out. It was a peaceful feeling, but one I knew wouldn’t last. I had to bask in it while I could.

  ⌘⌘⌘

  Sutton

  I should’ve been sleeping.

  I couldn’t.

  That wasn’t anything new, but there was something different about it this time. It wasn’t the typical feelings of insomnia—so tired but unable to fall asleep.

  No, my current lack of restlessness could be described in three words.

  Caelan Fucking Gregory.

  I kept replaying what had transpired between us.

  His hands had felt good on me—too good, actually.

  Our chemistry was explosive and undeniable. A dangerous and toxic combination. His reaction had proven that I needed to stay away.

  I never did what was good for me, though. The things I’d been through in my life had turned me into a masochist and I always came back for more. Hurting, whether the pain was physical or emotional, I thrived on it. I was as sick as Caelan, but in a different way.