Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)

by A. L. Jackson

  That was the problem. It was getting too hard and I was getting too deep. But I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to start all over again. I couldn’t imagine welcoming a loneliness greater than the void I already drifted in.

  Why, after all this time, had I given in?

  Above all, why had I given in to him?

  Turmoil raged through me like a sizzling firestorm. My insides were aflame with the aftermath of Lyrik’s touch. With the way he’d made me feel. That chaos was only fed by my pathetic reaction last night. I’d never anticipated that. But I’d let myself go. Let myself get lost in feeling and touch and hungry words.

  Lost in everything I’d wanted and refused myself for the last four years.

  I’d gotten lost in Lyrik before I’d gotten lost in the recesses of my mind. Lost in the dark corners I wanted to pretend didn’t exist.

  I focused on pushing the air in and out of my lungs as I filled the mugs with draft beer.

  Lights strobed from the stage. The rest of the bar was dimmed and dark, the energy alive. Normally, this was exactly the type of vibe I thrived on.

  Not tonight.

  The band playing on stage was loud and gritty. Every word the singer sang grated on my ears. Every chord of the guitar felt like the screech of nails dragging down my spine.

  My entire being was twitchy and antsy and out of sorts. My concentration shot.

  Foam spilled over the sides of the mugs. “Shit,” I hissed and set the beers aside, frustration bleeding through when I grabbed for a rag and aggressively wiped up my mess.

  “You think I could get that beer over here, or are you not even capable of that one little task?” The snub hit me from the side.

  I had no capacity for bullshit tonight.

  Narrowing my eyes, I grabbed the beers and turned my attention to the jerk sitting at the far side of the bar. A guy who was probably in his early thirties. Attractive. Clearly, that was the only thing he had going for him.

  He shot me a sweet, mocking smile. “Is it really that hard? If you need help, all you need to do is ask. I’m really good with my hands.”

  Insult me and try to pick me up all in the same breath. What a prick.

  My top lip curled. “I think I’m plenty capable, thank you very much,” I tossed back with all the restraint I could muster, doing my best to keep it in check when all I wanted was to unleash the hostility roiling inside me on this asshole. With a sneer, I slid the beers to him and his friend and cocked my head. “Satisfied?”

  His brow lifted, his voice smooth. “Not even close. Why don’t we find a dark corner and you can make it up to me.”

  Like he’d struck me, I paled and took a trembling step back.

  “Oh come on…look at you…don’t play coy. You know what you’re good for. You need me to pay?” His eyes gleamed with lust, as if I was there for nothing more than his entertainment. “I’m good either way.”

  Those flames roared, that storm spinning and spinning and spinning. Or maybe it was the room.

  I was shaking, searching for the breath I had lost. My chest grew too full and blackness threatened at my eyes. I felt stuck somewhere between that vulnerable, stupid girl who I never again wanted to be, and the bitch who wanted to lash out at the world. To jump across the top of the bar and rip out this guy’s throat. To make him pay.

  Like instinct, my hand wrapped around the neck of a big bottle of Jack.

  I felt a solid arm around my waist, pulling me back, a placating voice at my ear. “Whoa there, sugar.”

  Charlie.

  I slumped with my back against his chest, catching the breath I was searching for in a wheeze.

  “There now, there now,” he murmured as he hauled me away. He dipped us under the end of the bar and led me through the swinging door to the kitchen. Off to the left was an old grungy office, a single dim lamp burning from the desk that sat in the middle. He snapped the door shut behind us when he had me within the quiet.

  He turned me around with his hands on the outside of my upper arms. I cringed when I saw his expression. His mouth was slack, those kind brown eyes filled with concern and completely lacking their near-constant ease.

  His brows knit tight. “Hey there,” he soothed. “You in there, sugar? What’s going on with you tonight? You damned near clawed that guy’s eyes out.”

  I huffed, though it was shaky. “He would have deserved it.”

  “Have no doubt about that. Already have Nathan on it. He’s out. Don’t need scum like that mucking up my bar.”

  He squeezed my upper arms in his hands. “But you and I both know well enough you deal with trash like that on a nightly basis. Normally you handle it without even a ruffle of your pretty little feathers, and tonight you’re about as agitated as my momma’s old washer.”

  I ran an unsteady hand through my hair and glanced at the floor as I blew a puff of air between pursed lips. Reluctantly, I looked back at him. “Sorry, Charlie. I’m not exactly at the top of my game tonight.”

  A tender smile appeared, and his voice dropped in sincerity. “Don’t expect you to always be on, darlin’. We all have a bad day every now and again.”

  Creases dented his forehead. “But I don’t think I’ve seen you lookin’ so lost since the day you first came stumbling through Charlie’s doors. And you damned near broke my heart that day. Tell me what’s put that haunted look back on your sweet face.”

  Sweet?

  Is that what he saw when he looked at me?

  Slowly, I shook my head, swallowed over the lump lodged at the base of my throat. I was searching for that smirk I loved to wear, but it just wouldn’t come. Instead, my bottom lip quivered. “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t go lyin’ to me now. I know you better than that.” His eyes narrowed. “This have something to do with Shea and Sebastian’s wedding last night? Knew it was gonna be hard on you.”

  Knew?

  How?

  Did this man see right through me?

  A frustrated sound jetted from between my lips, and I roughed a hand through my hair. “No, it wasn’t that.”

  It was everything surrounding it. The stepping out. The putting myself on the line. The dangerous boy who’d seemed to haul in the monstrous load of my baggage with him.

  “You looked beautiful, sugar,” he attempted. “Real beautiful.”

  His head drifted just to the side. “Hope one day you’ll be lettin’ me walk you down the aisle, just like my Shea Bear gave me the honor of doing yesterday.”

  And I knew he was digging, trying to get to the heart of me. Just the way he’d always done. I struggled to find the mask just as an excruciating pain clamped down on my chest.

  Everything in Charlie’s tone was fatherly. Caring. Hopeful for my future.

  Daddy.

  Memories barreled through me. I was too weak and raw to stop them.

  Charlie didn’t even know my father existed. He thought my parents were gone. Dead. That I was alone. I’d lied to this selfless, generous man who’d only ever cared for me, thinking it was the only way to protect myself.

  And I kept doing it because I didn’t know any other way.

  That hollow loneliness radiating from within was worse than I had felt in four years. Maybe in all of it combined. As if it was creeping in like a lost ghost, looking for a home, settling heavy within my soul.

  Because I felt this life of pretense coming to an end.

  I pasted on a teasing smile. The edges were a wobbly mess, clearly just as fraudulent as the flimsy, impetuous words. “Don’t hold your breath, old man. You and I both know that isn’t about to happen. This girl flies solo.”

  He lifted my chin. The tweak of his lips was genuine and knowing. “Just who do you think you’re foolin’, sugar, because it sure ain’t me.”

  “Charlie—”

  “Don’t think for a second I don’t see you, Tamar King. That I don’t recognize loneliness when I see it. I’ve been livin’ in it for too long myself.”

 
God.

  “Lonely recognizes lonely, don’t you see?”

  I tried to speak around the lump clogging my throat. Diverting and obstructing and pretending as if what he said didn’t hit me like a landslide.

  “I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen women flocking here just to see the likes of you, Charlie. Pretty ones, too,” I tried, going for casual and knowing I failed miserably.

  He smiled a somber smile. “But none of them will ever be my Sadie.”

  His words clawed at my chest.

  “Don’t break my heart, old man.” It came out on a breathy, teasing plea.

  His brown eyes softened. “Looks to me like it’s already broken.”

  I recoiled.

  “Don’t you dare,” he warned with a big palm cupping my face.

  “What?”

  “Run. Don’t keep running from whatever you’ve been running from.”

  Quickly, I shook my head. “I’m not sure I know how to stay.”

  Softly, he eased in and kissed my temple, before he turned and walked to the door. With it open, he paused and looked back at me over his shoulder. “You keep running and whatever you’re running from is just going to keep running right after you. Only way to stop it is to turn around and cut it off head on.”

  Fear flashed through me. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. And after last night, I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be.

  I blinked as images flashed.

  Lyrik kissing my thigh.

  Too close.

  Too much.

  Shaking.

  Terrified.

  Engulfing darkness.

  I gulped around the remnants of fear.

  Would it always be that way?

  Charlie clicked the door shut behind him. A hard breath pushed free, and I turned away as I slumped forward with my arms wrapped around my waist.

  As if I could shield myself from the turmoil.

  But I was coming to realize the shields did nothing to protect me. They gave me nothing more than a counterfeit sense of security. And I was breaking down beneath them.

  The door swung open again.

  “Charlie,” I whispered, still facing away. “I can’t—”

  Shivers pricked across my skin just as awareness pressed in.

  On a gasp, I flipped around. My mouth dropped open wide and I fumbled back.

  Lyrik stood in the doorway with his hand on the knob. Shock waves pulsed, and his intense, severe energy surged. Slamming and striking and stealing my breath. Those licking flames he’d left behind blazed to life, singeing me in regret, fear, and a rush of unwelcome relief.

  No.

  That dark, menacing boy stood like a shadow beneath the hazy light, his face all harsh lines and blunt curves. Even from across the space, obsidian eyes flared. In them, I felt the resistance, like maybe he was fighting the same battle as I and neither of us knew which side we were supposed to be fighting for.

  I wanted to scream at him to go and beg him to stay.

  Humiliation shivered through me. God, I couldn’t stomach the memories of the way I’d clung to him. Begging him to make it okay like a weak little girl.

  I’d ruined everything.

  I stepped back, my voice quiet but hard. “Please, just go.”

  Panic spread when of course he didn’t listen. Instead, he edged the rest of the way into the office and shut the door behind him. He seemed to ride in on a whirlwind of anger, his jaw clenched, muscles strained and tight. The click of the lock snapping into place resonated in the tense air.

  “You know that’s not going to happen. Not now. Not after last night.”

  My feet fumbled a step back when he began to advance.

  He’d left me sometime in the night. I’d thought maybe he’d had enough. That he’d let me be. And Lyrik West leaving me be was the only thing I needed and the last thing I wanted.

  I pressed my hands flat against the wall behind me that prevented my escape. Tremors rocked beneath my feet with every step of his approach. A halo of darkness surrounded him, his potency trembling in the air.

  The buzz before the strike.

  That feeling just increased as he came nearer and nearer, until he once again had me backed into a corner. Caged. Breathing his breaths and feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

  I tried to keep my attention downcast. To hide some more when he’d already witnessed every single thing I hadn’t wanted him to see. But I couldn’t resist when he just hovered over me, not saying a word. As if he were prying whatever answer he sought from my silence.

  When I couldn’t take it any longer, I looked up. My gaze tangled with his. Hatred. In his dark, expressive eyes, I could see unfathomable hatred.

  But it wasn’t directed at me.

  Because they were protective, too.

  Somehow he managed to delete another inch between us. Completely closing me in. His voice was rough when he spoke. “Someone hurt you?”

  My entire body winced, and I jerked my head away. His hand found my chin, his touch gentle while everything else surrounding him was harsh.

  “Please.” I squeezed my eyes closed when he forced my chin up.

  “Red.” The way he said it twisted through me like a hot knife. The pain forcing my surrender.

  “Don’t shut me out,” he murmured, and his thumb traced along my trembling bottom lip. “You think you can pretend last night didn’t happen? Even if you can, I can’t.”

  Hard laughter rocked from me and my eyes flew open as I released the bitterness from my tongue. “I’ve been pretending for years.”

  “How many?” he whispered with that same voice that haunted me night after night. “How many years you been pretending? How many years has it been since you let a man touch you?”

  I whimpered.

  “How many?” he demanded.

  “Four.”

  I couldn’t keep the word in. It was as if he pulled it from me.

  I watched the thick roll of his throat as he swallowed hard, and his attention shot off to the side as if he needed to gather himself, before he looked back. Something desperate coated his severe words. “Did you want it? To be with me?”

  The answer was a tight rasp when I finally forced it from between my lips. “Yes.”

  The scary thing was how much I’d wanted it.

  “Do you still want it?”

  Maybe he saw the answer in my eyes, in the way my lips parted and a needy breath left me. Because in a flash, his mouth came down on mine, and his big hands wrapped around both sides of my neck, his fingers extending all the way around to the back.

  Possessive.

  The shock died on my tongue when he licked at it in a dominating dance. Energy stirred, that thrill I’d lived for speeding free and fast, igniting every nerve ending and skating across my skin.

  I moaned, fingers tugging at his hair. “Lyrik.”

  “Tell me,” he mumbled against my lips, “tell me you still want it.”

  “Yes.”

  It was all the response he needed.

  He kissed me like I wasn’t the fragile, broken girl who’d crumbled in his arms last night.

  A small piece of me fell for him. Right then. Right there.

  He spoke between his kisses, his voice raw. “I’m here for the next two months. Let me spend it erasing every memory of that bastard from every inch of you. Until he no longer exists and I’m the only thing you know.”

  A breath escaped me, and my heart beat so hard I could hear it pounding in my ears, this constant boom, boom, boom that raced to keep up with my speeding thoughts.

  Because there were some wounds that went too deep they could never be erased. But God, I wanted him to try. To erase some of this acute loneliness. To sate some of this inescapable attraction.

  All I wanted was to feel and to touch and to be touched. To love and to be loved.

  But I was no fool. Lyrik wasn’t going to love me. Not like I needed to be.

  Pulling back an inch, he cupped both sides
of my jaw. His eyes searched my face. “Yeah? We take it as slow or as fast as you want.” He squeezed. “All you’ve have to say is no.”

  My tongue darted out to wet my dry lips, and the raspy, imploring words tumbled out before I could stop them. “What if it hurts…when you leave?”

  God. He must think I was pathetic.

  Darkness flashed, those eyes setting like the sun, and one side of that delicious mouth tweaked with a half smirk that tore at my insides. Because it was every kind of sad.

  “Baby, I promise you, I’m not worth the pain.”

  “We’re a terrible idea,” I murmured in some kind of last-ditch effort for him to come to the senses that neither of us seemed to be able to find, wishing I could push him away when I just kept getting closer.

  Sinking deeper.

  Our voices quieted with each word we spoke, the tension increasing. Thickening the air. Our breaths strained and our bodies stretched tight.

  “Yeah. A terrible, terrible idea,” he said. “All these months you pushed me away? You were right…everything you said. I’m rotten to the core. And fuck…know I should stay away…tried to all fucking day. Told myself again and again to leave you alone. To let you be. And here I am. I told you last night…I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe you might need me just as bad as I need you.”

  He reached out and ran his knuckle down the side of my cheek, turning it to lift my chin toward him. I didn’t flinch, just blinked up at this beautiful, dark, menacing boy who didn’t seem so menacing after all.

  We seemed to be set to pause. Hung up on which direction to go. Whether to push rewind or flash-forward or delete.

  “I don’t believe you,” I finally whispered, so soft it was barely heard. I reached up to clutch the neck of his T-shirt, exposing more of the ink littering his body across his strong chest and climbing up his neck.

  I trembled, wanting to touch and taste and explore. For a few moments, to feel like the old me. That was the problem with Lyrik West. He zapped that brave girl back to life. But I wasn’t sure who she was anymore. “I think you might be a little perfect underneath it all.”

  I could almost feel his heart rate increase. “Believe me, it just gets uglier the deeper you get.”