Oh God.
My knees wobbled, and that fear trembled free. But it was overshadowed by the want roaring through my veins. Stomach tight. Legs quivering.
“This…this is what you do to me. One fucking look, one touch, and I’m dying for something I know I shouldn’t have. Because you,” he chuckled darkly, “you do things to me you shouldn’t. It’s driving me damned near out of my mind knowing you’re just a few footsteps away, right outside my door, and I can’t have you.”
I fought for my senses, clutched his jacket a little tighter. “We’re a terrible idea.”
Hard, harsh laughter rocked from him, so low that only I could hear. It came at me like a warning. “Make no mistake, Red. I don’t want an us. I’ll be the first to admit it. I’m an asshole. I’m not wired that way. Not anymore.”
Not anymore.
God, I was a fool. Self-preservation floored. Because right then? All I wanted to ask him was what that meant. To dig deep and sink in.
Discover who was hiding underneath.
I knew it. Felt it.
He was just like me.
His voice dropped lower, a wisp at my ear. “But what I want is you. I want to take you back to my place, unwrap you like a gift, and look at you laid out on my bed. I want to touch you and taste you and explore you. Make you lose your mind, kinda the way you’ve been making me lose mine. Tell me what you want, Red.”
Shivers slid down my spine.
He pressed his mouth to the side of my neck and mumbled the words at my skin. “All you have to say is no. Say no and I’m gonna walk and never going to look your way again.”
I got the feeling he was begging me, begging me to say no.
A loud guitar strum reverberated through the speakers. The song played out. Over.
“All right, all right,” the singer shouted, his voice amped up as he spoke into the microphone. “It’s time to get things shaking around here. Everyone on the dance floor.”
It shook us both from the daze and back into this painful reality.
They launched into one of those seventies disco songs that no generation could resist.
I took two fumbled steps back and stared across the short space at the man who was panting. Looking as if he was ready to pounce. To destroy, plunder, and desolate.
“Uncle Wyrik…Uncle Wyrik, dance with me! Dance with me! Imma butterfly!”
Kallie was at his side, jumping up and down with her arms in the air.
Warily, he looked between us, his chest heaving. He lifted her. Her grin grew wide with joy as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He cast me one last pleading glance before he turned away and started dancing with her.
Bouncing her and swinging her and making her howl with laughter.
Tremors rolled and the air turned cold.
Fear gripped me tight.
I can’t feel this.
And like a coward, I turned and ran.
After all, running was what I did best.
I drove directly to my apartment. I cut the engine and sat in the silence for a few moments, trying to reorient myself.
To regain control.
Pushing out a breath, I opened the door and stepped into the night. Gusts of wind stole the peace, cutting through the trees and tumbling along the ground.
Climbing the stairs, I held the railing, slowly pulling my weary body up. My heels dangled from the fingers of my free hand, my head lowered.
Staggering loneliness swamped me.
Rushed over me.
Wave after wave after wave.
I hated how bad it hurt.
I wanted to put up my shields and lift my chin and paint that hard, fierce scowl on my face.
But I was getting weak.
The faintest flash of lightning lit up somewhere in the far distance and my hair whipped around my head.
I mounted the last step onto the stoop and headed toward my door.
A deep, hard rumble echoed through the air. Drawing closer. Coming nearer.
It trembled through me like energy and light and life.
God.
Was he chasing after me?
Why was he doing this?
I knew I should run. Lock myself in my apartment and never come out.
But I was frozen with my hand on the doorknob.
A bright light blinded my eyes as Lyrik eased his bike into his spot. He planted his feet as he came to a stop. The engine grumbled and rolled, the sound beating through my heart and pulsing through my veins.
He killed the engine and the headlight dimmed.
The street lamp filtered in from above in a milky haze. Playing across his face as shadows.
And I wondered if I was wired wrong. If I gravitated toward assholes and manipulators and those who would only bring me pain.
Because my want for him was greater than the fear that clogged my throat. Greater than the knowledge that when he was finished, he was going to leave me behind.
Desolate me.
It was all supposed to be contained.
Concealed and buried and camouflaged.
The perfect masquerade.
All feeling corralled.
Suppressed.
With the man staring up at me and me staring down at him, I dug deep for conviction. For the confidence I’d found. In who I’d become.
I was Tamar King.
And Tamar King was nobody’s slave.