Charlie’s buzzed around me. Lights were cast low and the music turned high. Bodies pressed up to the smooth, antique bar, vying to get my attention as I scrambled behind it, filling pitchers full of microbrews while simultaneously shaking up a couple Purple Lamborghinis.

I slid the two martinis to the blondes commiserating their love-life woes over drinks at the end of the bar.

“Here we go. Two Purple Lamborghinis. Watch yourselves. Those go down fast and ride you hard.”

The woman on the right smiled wide. “Mmm…after the day I’ve had, fast and furious is exactly what I need. Keep them coming.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

“Hey, princess, how about another round of beers down here?” The same asshole who’d been eyeing me up and down all night shot me a smarmy smile. No doubt, it was supposed to melt my panties.

Gross.

My brow arched all on its own, tone going coy. I was getting good at this game. “Now…now… Do I look like a princess to you?”

“Nah, baby cakes, you look like a wet dream.”

Let me reiterate.

Gross.

So gross.

And seriously, baby cakes?

What a douchebag.

You’d think after everything, I’d have picked a different work atmosphere. Away from men and sex and innuendo.

Or maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.

Maybe I’d ended up here because it drew them into the light, the blatant advances and trashy pick-up lines dealt every night. I was always prepared. Never caught unaware.

“I’ll show you a wet dream. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be pissing in your sleep for the next month.” It was all a grumble under my breath as I filled three mugs for him and his two friends, who were, surprise, surprise, just as douchy as the first.

“Easy now, sweetheart.” Charlie’s soothing voice came at me from behind. “I see someone’s feeling extra feisty tonight. Don’t need you chasing the customers out the door.”

Charlie was the owner of Charlie’s, a bar boasting a prime spot on the river walk here in Savannah. It was super popular, packed night after night, people flocking in to unwind at the end of the day and watch the local bands. I’d been working here for the last four years, first working in the kitchen before I was old enough to be out front.

He was also the owner of the apartment I’d been renting above one of his buildings for the same amount of time. The guy wore a ratty T-shirt and an even rattier gray beard, but not even all that facial hair could conceal the genuine smile peeking out from underneath. The guy was as good as they got.

Charlie was all about the saving. Without a doubt, he’d saved me.

He grinned when I looked back at him. “What has you on edge, sugar?”

I hiked a nonchalant shoulder as I strutted past him toward the value-pack of douches leering at my approach. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was no holding back my sneer when I slid the assholes their beers.

Charlie snickered when I spun around and passed back by. “You sure about that?”

“Don’t go playin’ counselor, old man. I’m just fine.”

One of his teasing chuckles rippled from him, and he shook his index finger at me. “I bet I know what has those knickers in a twist…you were out with Shea Bear this afternoon trying on your bridesmaid’s dress. Bet you can’t stand to put on a frilly dress for a day.”

Shea and Sebastian had shocked us all when they’d gotten married in Las Vegas six months ago. They claimed that wedding was for them. This one? This one was to bring their friends and families together. A celebration of the life they were beginning together.

I was completely honored she had asked me to stand up as one of her bridesmaids. Escaping to this town, I’d never expected to find friends. To find kind, selfless people whose friendships would grow to the point where I’d consider them family.

So maybe Charlie was just glancing at the root of the problem. I actually didn’t mind the dress. In fact, I kind of loved it. Shea was having a country chic wedding, everything casual and flowy and pretty, just like her personality, and our rustic dresses were no exception.

My problem was the asshole they’d paired me with. The guy I’d be walking the aisle with. The one I’d have to do that dreaded dance with.

He was the one who had my panties in a twist—tangled and tied and snarled, among other things that had me wanting to scream in frustration.

The one who evoked feelings I refused to feel. Things that made that brittle, fractured spot hidden away somewhere in my chest want to crack.

And…shit.

He was walking through the door.

An electric current charged through the air, blistering as it traveled my skin. Tingles lifted in stark awareness and the breath punched from my lungs.

Want.

Need.

Like the boy held the power to expose every weak spot in my armor.

I hated he had this effect.

But my body didn’t seem to take my hatred into consideration when my heart hammered and sped. My stomach knotted in anticipation.

Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I rimmed four shot glasses with salt, poured tequila across them, garnished them with wedges of lime, all the while being painfully distracted by the knowledge he stood in all his rock ‘n’ roll glory thirty feet away.

The guys from Sunder, plus Shea, spilled in behind him.

Charlie bumped his hip into mine. “Look it there, sugar. Shea and the rest of the wedding party just walked in.”

As if I hadn’t noticed.

“Why don’t you call it a night, hang out, blow off some steam? You should be with the rest of them rather than working your fingers to the bone the way you do for me night after night. I can handle the place.”

Always the caretaker.

I fought the grin pulling at one side of my mouth, shook my head as I went to work wiping down the counter that was already gleaming. “Now there you go worrying about me again, old man. I’m just fine behind this bar. Right where I belong.”

Last thing I needed was to get in the mix of Lyrik and the rest of the guys.

“Pssh.” He waved his hands at me, shooing me back. “Go on, girl. As much as you like to pretend you’re happy with being a loner, you’re just as much a part of that group as the rest of ’em. Besides, you know Shea’s gonna come dragging you out anyway, so you might as well give it up now.”

“Tamar.” And there she was, calling my name.

“What’d I tell you?” Charlie said, lips twitching beneath his scraggly beard.

I tossed down the rag. “Fine.” I pointed a warning finger at him as I backed away. “But I’m not calling it a night. One drink, and I’m back to work.”

“Whatever you say, sugar. We all know who’s the boss around here.”

Charlie’s was housed in one of the old cotton warehouses, the rafters in the high ceilings still exposed, the wooden walls aged to a near black from the years of smoke and bodies and a century of hidden mystery.

I strutted to the far end of the bar that took up the middle of the massive room, the ornate, carved mahogany the focus of Charlie’s. My back was to the front door, and I used the time to prepare myself to come face to face with Lyrik West.

I knew it was crazy. Complete inane craziness. How I was terrified to face the man simply for the way he made me feel. For the way he made me want and desire and question all the promises I’d made myself.

Worst was being aware he enjoyed getting to me so much.

I knew it as well as he did.

He was playing me. Winding me up like a toy.

He’d get off on watching me spin, spin, spin, until I teetered and tottered and toppled. Used up and spent.

Cruel.

I was pretty sure that was the definition of Lyrik West.

I ducked under the small opening at the end, passing by the country band setting up on stage, and headed back toward the entrance.

There I was, pacing in the direction of the man my every cell repelled and attracted.

A chill slid through my senses. A premonition. A warning that magnetism was greater than any resistance.

Like an aurora of dancing, captivating lights that turned out to be nothing but a black hole.

Consuming life and light.

Those near-black eyes caught mine, almost stopping me in my tracks as they glimmered with that same dark mischief, as if at any moment he would strike.

Reach out and take me in his grips.

Devour and destroy and desolate.

Refusing to cave, I lifted my chin in challenge. I just prayed he didn’t see the way it trembled.

I somehow managed to tear my gaze from the hook of his and turned it on my friend.

“Shea, I thought you’d given up your days at Charlie’s,” I tossed out like a tease as my lips stretched into a welcoming smile. With Shea, the truth of it was not so feigned.

The smile she returned was pure and relieved, and I knew without a doubt she was wearing it because Sebastian was back in town.

Shea came in for a hug, her baby bump prominent against my stomach.

Yeah. Shea Stone had to be about the cutest pregnant girl you’d ever meet, her six-month belly looking like she’d done nothing other than stuff a basketball under her dress.

No wonder Sebastian couldn’t stay away.

I stepped back, squeezing her hands as I glanced up at her husband who edged in behind her, hands flattening possessively over her bump.

I arched a brow his direction. “Ah…the infamous Sebastian Stone. What are you doing here? I thought Savannah was safe from the likes of you and your boys for at least another week. We should be ringing the town alarm.”

A playful smirk filled up his face. “Like my boys are any more dangerous than you.”

Ha. Not even close.

Apparently appearances were deceiving.

“Besides,” he continued, his voice going a little deeper as he kissed the side of Shea’s head, “couldn’t stay away a second longer.”

Shea’s smile lit up the entire darkened room. “He was waiting at the house when I got back after we did your final dress fitting. You should have seen Kallie’s face when she saw her daddy standing on the porch waiting for us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that little butterfly get out of the car so fast.”

As rough as it’d been for both of them, Shea had returned to Savannah with her daughter two months ago, leaving Sebastian behind while Sunder finished up in the studio recording their latest album.

Sebastian chuckled, nuzzled at her neck. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you get out of the car so fast, either.”

“Can you blame me?” she whispered back.

A fresh wave of awareness rippled out. Targeted. My body marked by crosshairs.

That intensity wrapped and circled and ensnared.

I shuddered out a breath and tried to remain strong. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t resist the power behind the stare I felt searing into my flesh.

That unsteady feeling trembled beneath my feet and hummed in my ears

My eyes flitted his direction.

Powerless.

Lyrik stood there looking at me, tattooed hands stuffed in his pockets. Everything about him was casual and unaffected. Yet striking and bold.

Severe and cruel and altogether aloof.

A damn enigma the very foolish side of me wanted to explore.

Layer by layer.

Touch by touch.

I swallowed around the rock sitting at the base of my throat.

I knew better than acting like a naïve school girl.

He would come like a plunderer, swooping in and tearing everything in his path to shreds, setting the world on fire.

With zero regret.

Zero concern for the mayhem he caused.

Zero remorse for his sins.

He reveled in them.

Like I said.

Cruel.

Ash’s brash voice broke the tension. “Did any of you really think Baz was gonna hang tight in L.A. for two months after Shea and Kallie came back here? Dude was about to lose his shit. Slave driver had our asses in the studio nonstop for the last week to wrap things up so we could get back here sooner.”

He stretched out his tattooed arms. “Of course, since we’re talking about this group of badasses, wrapping up the album sooner was no problem. We make magic, baby.”

Ash Evans had to be one of the cockiest guys I’d ever crossed paths with. Scary thing was, it just made him all the more endearing, added to the charm that oozed from him without a thought, the guy all charisma and dimples and ego for miles.

And he was gorgeous.

Poor girls didn’t stand a chance.

But all that overconfidence? It was so different than Lyrik’s. Where Ash’s was friendly, Lyrik’s felt like a direct threat.

“So I take it you’re all here to celebrate. Let me grab some drinks.” My eyes bounced over each of them, a little quicker over Lyrik.

How obvious.

Just awesome.

“Everyone want their regular?” I asked.

“Sounds good to me, darlin’,” Ash was all too quick to supply. “But considering the magnitude of what we’re celebrating, make them doubles.”

“You do realize you always ask for doubles.”

He laughed. “Then make them triples.”

Good God.

These guys were nothing but a pack of trouble. All except for Zee, who stepped up with an affectionate shake of his head, as if he were apologizing for the company he kept but wouldn’t have it any other way. He gave me a quick hug.

“Nice to see you again, Tamar.”

“Good to see you, too.”

He headed for the secluded booth Sebastian had first claimed then Sunder had made their own.

Shea called, “Thank you,” as Sebastian began pulling her toward the booth. Ash was all too keen to follow.

Lyrik seemed slow to conform as he cast me one more unsettling glance over his shoulder, as if he was making sure to drag my attention with him.

To torture me a little more.

Forcing myself back behind the bar, I filled three rocks glasses half-full with Jager.

The pour of the thick, dark liquid reminded me of the promise in Lyrik’s eyes. A tempting, seductive vow of a night filled with delicious, carnal fun.

But that promise came with the consequence of a nasty hangover in the morning.

I did the same with Sebastian Stone’s ridiculously expensive tequila he liked to drink and grabbed a bottle of water for Shea, then arranged everything on a tray. I wove back through the growing crowd.

Ash grinned up at me as I passed out the shots. “Ah…never thought I’d say it, but it is good to be back in Savannah. Tell me, Tam Tam, have these walls been missing me? How about those ladies? Tell me they’ve been asking for me. You know once I make an appearance, the place isn’t ever gonna be the same.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. Half the female population is scarred from your last appearance.”

“Oh come now. Don’t act like you don’t know my presence just makes everything better.” The dimples in his cheeks deepened. “Kind of like bacon. Put it on a burger. Better. Put it on a salad. Better. Spread Ash around. Better.”

I couldn’t help it. Laughter escaped, all incredulous and full of disbelief, but there, nonetheless.

“See…” he prodded like he’d just proven a new theorem, “better. Admit you missed me.”

“Okay, okay, if it’ll shut you up then I’ll gladly cop to missing you.”

Ash was the first to lift his glass. “To Baz and Beautiful Shea, two people who love each other so much they think they need to get married twice.”

Zee laughed, Lyrik grinned.

“But for real…the two of you?” Ash continued, “You’ve got something good. Don’t ever give it up.”

Don’t ever give it up.

The words rang through my mind, and a flash of sadness threatened to swallow me whole and take me under. I squeezed my eyes closed, lifted my glass, and threw back the shot. A fiery burn rolled hot down my throat, wrapping me like a warm blanket as it settled in my belly.

Soothing the rough edges that kept trying to fray.

I refused to give in to the memories that raved in the depths of my conscious where I’d left them, struggling to find their way out. For four years, I’d done just fine. I’d stepped into the shoes of the girl I wanted to be and shunned it all.

The past was the past. I needed to leave it there.

But all that fear was fighting for a rebound.

I was no fool. I knew why. The proof of it was in the Facebook message I’d received two months ago on my inactive account. It was one I’d seen during a weak moment. Swamped in loneliness and regret, I’d signed on with my IP address turned off.

I’d just needed a glimpse of my family. To be reminded of their faces. To catch a hint of their voices.

To feel as if I were a part of their lives when I’d torn myself from it four years before.

As if those crumbs could ever be enough.

But it was the waiting message that had literally dropped me to my knees.

As much as I kept trying to pretend it didn’t matter, that my getting involved wouldn’t change a thing, those thoughts kept creeping back in.

Prodding.

Goading.

Spurring.

Forcing me to look behind at a past I’d done everything to forget.

Add Lyrik into the mix?

I could feel fissures splintering my walls, that firm foundation crumbling beneath my feet.

Giving them my best smile, I glanced over my shoulder. “Looks like Charlie is getting slammed. Better rescue the old man before things start to get ugly over there. I’ll send one of the servers over to make sure you’re all taken care of.”

“Thanks, Tamar.” Shea looked at me as if she were apologizing I couldn’t stay, when in truth, I couldn’t wait to get away.

I got back to work, letting myself get lost in the vibe, the urgency I fed on as darkness covered the room and the country band played on, quick to sling drinks and even quicker to shoot down advances from overly friendly men.

Maybe it was wrong it made me feel strong. As if for a little while, I was in complete control. Like no one could touch me or pollute me. Even though I knew it was nothing more than an illusion.

“Running low on Goose, Charlie. I’m gonna run back to storage and grab some.”

“Not a problem, sugar. We’re hanging in just fine up here.”

I headed through the kitchen to the back storage room.

With my foot, I pushed the step stool over to the section with the different vodkas stacked on the shelves, and climbed up so I could reach a box of Grey Goose on the top.

Carefully, considering I was going down backward wearing five-inch heels, I maneuvered down, box balanced in one arm while I held on to the metal bar of the shelf with the other.

I turned around.

A yelp flew from me when I found the lone figure leaning up against the shelved wall.

My heart galloped like a sprint of horses, a riot of hooves beating against my chest.

Hands shaking so badly, I barely righted the box before it crashed to the floor.

Why are you doing this to me?

“What do you think you’re doing back here?” I finally managed, the first words just as shaky as my hands, the last filling with indignant anger.

Why?

Lyrik let that lazy smirk take over his too-pretty face. Shadows played across one side, making him appear more dangerous than normal.

“Lookin’ for you.”

I pushed off the intrigue gathering fast, ignored the beat of my heart and the want in my belly as I forced out the words, sharp and severe. “Well, you can stop looking for me, because I don’t want to be found.”

“You sure about that?”

“What is it you think you want from me, Lyrik?”

I’d spent all of last summer dodging his advances, doing my best to repel him with every bitchy rejection I could throw his way. It was time to put an end to this.

My words were hard and harsh, fueled by the desperation buried underneath. I just hoped it wasn’t the most apparent. “Do you want a quick fuck? Do you want me to drop to my knees and suck your dick and send you on your merry way? There are plenty of other girls out there begging for the job. Do me a favor and stop chasing me.”

Riding on the rush of adrenaline, I stalked for the door.

Voice rough, his words hit me from behind, that overwhelming presence just as close. “Like those eyes chase me?”

Chills traveled my spine as the rest of my body froze.

Overtaken by this attraction.

Why did I want him so badly?

But I guess the saying was true. We always want what we shouldn’t have.

Slowly I turned. That strong, beautiful body towered over me. Mine reacted to the nearness.

Heat.

Fire.

Need.

He hooked his finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him through the dusky confines of the enclosed room. “You think I don’t see you, Red. Watching. Wanting. Just because you refuse to let the words fall from your mouth, doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

My teeth ground, every inch of me at war, my hatred of how he made me feel—hatred of that old, naïve weakness—up against the seeds of trust that wanted to make their way out.

It felt like a tornado gaining speed.

Lights flickered behind my eyes and a thrill rushed through my nerves.

No. No. No.

“What would be so bad about spending a night with me?”

And that was just it.

The only thing I’d ever be.

Easy, forgettable sex.

Another in a million faceless women.

A quick fuck that didn’t even last long enough to be considered a fling. Hurt balled behind my ribs. Funny how his proposition felt like a rejection.

“Oh, I could think of plenty of things.” Like my heart and the sanctity of my mind.

I struggled to resurrect the façade. To erect that rigid, impenetrable armor.

I wiggled the fingers of my free hand in front of his face and fired the words like bullets. “Believe me, I’d rather spend the night with these than with you.”

He snatched me by the wrist.

My mouth dropped open in shock. At the heat of his hold. At the weight of his stare.

The man took full advantage of my momentary stupor, those dark eyes gleaming as he slowly sucked my middle two fingers into the fever of his mouth.

A panicked, strangled gasp wheezed from my throat, expanding my too-tight lungs.

Flames ignited, a fire set to my veins, spreading fast and coalescing as a hot melting point right between my thighs.

That smirk was in full force when he let my fingers free with a pop.

Then he went and shocked me again when he pressed my hand to his chest. It felt way too strong, and damn it, his heart had to have been beating just as hard as mine.

Something flashed in those eyes. Something soft. That was all it took, and something soft inside me wanted to give.

To give up and give it all.

Then that wicked mouth ticked up at the side, and he guided my trembling hand down.

Down.

Down.

Down.

While I stood like a sucker allowing it.

He stopped just above the obvious bulge straining from his too tight jeans.

“Oh, I’m sure your hands work wonders, but honestly, I had other things in mind.”

My senses came rushing back.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

That’s what soft got me.

It left me no more than a pawn in an elaborate game.

I jerked myself free, begging my feet to cooperate as I scrambled for the door with all the confidence I had left, digging deep for the strength that was dwindling fast.

By the time I got to the door, my chin was lifted high.

Because I remembered.

Remembered who I’d fought so hard to become.

At the door I stopped and glared at him from over my shoulder. “Not on your life.”

He just smiled that smug, cocky smile, as if he could see right through me. “All you have to say is no, Red.”

I raised a middle finger.

Take that as my no, asshole.

“You can go fuck yourself.”

He laughed and those black eyes shimmered. “Nah, baby. Unlike you, I’m not so keen to go at it alone.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you, Red, are an uptight bitch.”

He wasn’t the first guy to call me a bitch.

Usually, it didn’t bother me.

Hell, most of the time I took it as a compliment. An affirmation that no one would dare mess with me.

But Lyrik calling me a bitch? It was the first time it stitched these thick, suffocating threads of sadness and anger through my heart.

God, he was such an egotistical, shameless bastard.

And I was an idiot for allowing it to hurt.

I should have turned and walked.

Closed my mouth.

But I couldn’t stop it from tumbling free.

“So a girl’s a bitch just because she won’t jump in your bed?” I was sure the shake of my head revealed too much.

Disgust. Disappointment. Defeat.

“You know what, Lyrik? Maybe I want more in my life. And I won’t allow you to reach out and take what I don’t want to give.”

I was pissed.

Shaken.

Determined to put Lyrik back in his place.

They’d ordered another round of drinks.

I was quick to mix them, whipping up something extra special for one Lyrik West. Just because I liked him so much.

An hour had passed since he’d cornered me in the storage room, and just as much time had gone by since he’d returned to the booth, the table now sporting the addition of three girls.

Shea and Sebastian had called upon their good sense and vacated.

Now Zee was sitting there basically alone, playing on his phone while one girl sat sideways across Ash’s lap, arms laced around his neck, garnering all his attention.

It was the two hanging like sparkly ornaments from Lyrik’s sides that had me on the rampage.

His arms were draped around their shoulders as he sat kicked back in the seat.

Not a care in the world.

A low growl gathered at the base of my throat.

Didn’t take him long.

What a pig.

And why the hell did it piss me off so bad?

But it did.

Truth was, I was irate. Something about it left me feeling used and dirty and disposable.

Glasses clanked as I threw their drinks on the tray, and even though I wasn’t a server, I was damned well going to deliver them myself.

I slithered across the floor, winding through the high-top tables, making sure my hips and ass were doing the talking as I stalked toward the booth. The most saccharine of smiles twisted my face as I slid the cosmos to the girls who were only out for a little fun, but somehow had managed to stumble into my path of fury.

They didn’t even seem to notice the force in which I slammed them down.

Oh, but Lyrik did, eyes taking in his special drink. The bright red liquid sloshed over the rim and ran onto the table when I set it in front of him.

With that cocky smirk, he glanced up at me. “What’s this?”

I pressed my palms flat on the table, leaning in close to his face, voice as bitter as I felt. “It’s a red-headed slut. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

This time the girls took note, glaring at me as if I was suddenly a competitor, my flaming red hair making it all too clear I was referring to myself. One had the decency to look offended when Lyrik shot me a wry smile and opened that offensive mouth. “Actually, I was thinking I wanted a taste of a blue-eyed angel, but I’ll take you however I can get you.”

My blue eyes narrowed as I struggled to contain the hurt and rage and all these convoluted emotions I didn’t want to feel, while his smile widened in satisfaction.

He lifted the glass toward me then threw back his shot.

Just as fast, he spit it out. Red liquid spewed across the table and dribbled down his perfect chin. Furious, he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the fuck was that?”

“That was a warning not to touch me again.”

So maybe my secret red-headed slut recipe included a little cayenne and Tabasco. Nothing a real man couldn’t handle.

In disbelief, he shook his head. “You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” He pushed the girls off him, squeezed out to stand, gestured for them to follow. “Come on, we’re out of here.”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out two hundreds and flung them out in front of him, the bills fluttering down to land on the table. “Thanks for the drink,” he seethed.

He stalked away like a howling, blackened storm, the two little bitches stumbling on their heels as they clamored after him.

Thickness crawled up my throat, supplied by the regret pressing hard against my chest.

You really are a bitch.

Why did I care? This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To chase him away. To throw out daggers and toss up shields, where I could seclude and conceal and isolate myself behind this barricade.

Where it was safe.

Ash shot me a knowing grin. “Oh, Tam Tam, remind me not to fuck with you, darlin’. Because you scare the shit outta me.”

I swallowed hard.

Yeah. Sometimes I scared myself, too.

* * *

At 3:40 a.m., I pulled into my parking spot at the back of the building Charlie owned.

On a sigh, I cut the engine and stepped from my car.

My attention barely drifted over the bike parked in the spot reserved for Apartment Two, and I hardly registered the car parked awkwardly behind it.

The mental exhaustion clinging to my bones didn’t allow me much thought other than the need to strip myself of these clothes and this mask of makeup so I could climb into the refuge of my bed.

I suppressed a groan when I heard the music pumping from Apartment Two as I drew closer, the lift of giggles and annoying female voices.

Awesome.

I had new obnoxious neighbors. Tonight just got better and better.

At least they never stayed since that apartment was used for short-term, weekly rentals.

No doubt, Charlie made a small fortune on those rentals, but he refused to rent my place out the same way. The day I’d come crawling into his bar desperate for a job without an address to put on my application, he’d sat me down and asked me the last time I’d eaten. When I couldn’t answer, he’d fed me then put me in his truck and brought me here.

This stranger had set me up and given me a home.

It was the day the man had rescued a small piece of my shattered heart. Restored a little bit of my faith in humanity.

I climbed the stairs, pulling at the railing to aid my ascent, my feet sore and my body weary.

I was letting all this shit get to me, and I couldn’t afford it.

I let myself into my dark apartment, kicked off my shoes at the door, and went directly to the bathroom to wash my face, then proceeded into my cozy room where I changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a tee before I flopped onto my plush, queen-sized bed with the pretty ornate metal headboard.

It was intended to exude comfort.

Instead I felt lost.

Hollow.

Alone.

With a glance to my earbuds on my nightstand, I hesitated. Why in the world after the night I’d had would I even consider torturing myself this way?

Apparently I was a masochist.

Sitting up against my headboard, I grabbed them, plugged them into my phone, and flipped into my music player. I went directly to my favorite Sunder album, the one that had the song I couldn’t help but listen to again and again. Typically, Lyrik was the one in the background, there only to accompany Sebastian.

But no.

This song was all Lyrik.

His voice was so different than the screaming, growling lyrics Sebastian was known for. Lyrik’s voice was deep and gravelly.

Yet somehow smooth.

Haunting and hypnotic.

It always made me feel as if I was being sucked into the song, mellower than their standard thrashing style, like a dark lullaby rocking me to sleep night after night.

I pressed the buds into my ears and let that voice wash over me, let it seep beneath my skin until it seemed as if the chords were played from somewhere within.

The first time I’d heard this song two years ago? I’d wondered what the man behind it was really like. If he actually was in the kind of pain the song bled. If the sorrow behind his voice was real. I wondered if he might feel the same way I did inside.

So full of regrets you didn’t know who you were anymore.

Somehow, I’d felt as if I knew that man. Intimately. Wholly. A bond shared between complete strangers.

That had been nothing more than a wicked dream.

Because Lyrik wasn’t anything like I’d imagined him to be.

Of course, at that time, I never believed we’d actually come face to face. Never thought he’d look at me and see something he wanted. Never thought he’d spark those old naïve fantasies.

Tempt me and tease me and trip me.

I bet he’d laugh when he watched me fall.

Cruel.

Breathing in, I closed my eyes, praying for the exhaustion to drag me into sleep. But instead I found myself feeling antsy. More uncomfortable in my skin than I’d felt in a long, long time.

When I couldn’t force myself to sit still any longer, I slipped from beneath the covers and dropped to my knees in front of the chest at the base of my bed. Almost reluctantly, I lifted the lid, cautious of what waited inside.

I pulled out the black, leather-bound case. It felt heavy in my hands as I carried it to my bed and laid it on my crisscrossed legs.

It seemed like an hour passed while I just stared at it.

Finally, I conjured up enough courage to unzip the case and pull out the photos inside.

They were nothing controversial. Nothing obscene or secretive.

Just bright bursts of lightning slicing across each sheet.

There were hundreds of the black and white photos. Many had been photo-shopped with the splashes of colors I’d liked to add to them, changing the white strikes to purple and teal and any other color I could imagine, like colorful darts streaking through the sky and striking down against the parched ground.

These images? They represented me.

Before.

When I was so eager to look upon beauty. To chase it. To seek the thrill of being in danger. Putting myself in harm’s way to capture these absolutely awe-inspiring images.

That was when I believed the world was out there just waiting for me to capture everything it had to offer.

I’d taken my first picture of lightning when I was five years old. I’d stood at my grandpa’s side on our back porch while he pointed to the storm building over the mountains behind our house, explaining the stunning phenomenon.

That first crude image snapped with a cheap old camera soon developed into my passion. A representation of who I wanted to be.

Creative and bold. Positive and accepting. Sincere and honest and brave. Without skepticism or the deep-rooted chip now firmly embedded in my shoulder.

I’d captured my last at age twenty.

I’d thought they’d been an expression of what I found burning from within.

They were nothing but a lie.

After I’d come here? I’d convinced myself I wasn’t the crying type. Tears were evidence of weakness. So I’d dried them and put on this bravado I found wasn’t entirely false, tapped into this part of myself that I’d never known was there.

It was hard and brash and impenetrable.

Unbreakable.

Not like the unassuming girl who’d snapped these pictures.

Those tears I’d long denied pricked at my eyes, and a lump grew in my throat. It was a welling of emotion that my first response was to swallow down. But just for tonight, after the commotion of rioting emotions that had been stirred in me, I needed to set them free.

Just for a little while, I let myself remember who I once wanted to be.

* * *

I awoke resolved.

Last night had been a steppingstone instead of a stumbling block. A reminder I had to be careful or everything I’d worked so hard for would all have been in vain.

It was bad enough they’d tracked me down, asking questions about Cameron. Threatening the asylum I’d found in my new home. I refused to allow them to rip me from it.

I brushed my teeth and changed into my running clothes.

I picked the loudest, angriest playlist I could find and began to shimmy the same headphones that had transported me to the dark haven of his voice into my ears as I swung open my front door.

And I almost fell flat on my face.

It might have been better if I had. Maybe then it would have concealed the horrified expression that took me over in the two heart-wrenching seconds it took before the shock wore off.

I composed myself and plastered the sneer I’d mastered back onto my mouth.

Stumbling out the other apartment door were the two girls who’d been hanging all over Lyrik last night. Clothes wrinkled. Makeup smeared. Hair sexed up as they embarked on a walk of shame they obviously felt nothing of.

They actually looked rather proud.

And satisfied.

Jealousy flared.

That was the part I didn’t want him to catch as his gaze ensnared mine.

But it was there, as obvious as the pang I felt in my chest as he stretched his arms above his head and held on to the top of the doorframe, all of his attention suddenly locked on me.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

It chanted like a plea as my eyes did exactly what I didn’t want them to do. They swept down his bare chest. Like they were drawn and starving and without an ounce of the willpower I’d bolstered myself with just before I’d stepped out the door.

For a fleeting second, I gave in. Surrendered. Allowed myself the bittersweet treat of ogling the flesh covered in ink, the designs so intricate and intertwined I couldn’t tell where one image ended and another began, although the really foolish part of me was dying to take the time to decipher them.

The jeans he wore hung so low I was certain there was no chance he had anything on underneath.

But it was more. More than that beautiful body. More than that face. It was as if he compelled me to look closer. Deeper. My self-preservation warned I wasn’t going to like what I would see.

I ended my stare with a disoriented jerk of my eyes. Of course they had zero control and jumped right back to his too-perfect face, this guy so unbearably gorgeous I felt the magnitude of it shake me like an earthquake.

But this time there was none of that mischief glinting in his eyes.

They swam with pure, oppressive heat, a danger and lust that came with an undercurrent of desperation.

My skin prickled, and I shifted on my bright pink Nike’s. I felt naked. Exposed. It didn’t help I was standing there in nothing but a sports bra, my breasts squeezed and amplified where they swelled over the top, my belly bare and shorts short.

But it was my face that brought on the wave of insecurity. I didn’t have on a lick of the makeup I usually wore and my red hair was wound in a haphazard pile on the top of my head.

Slowly, the smirk reemerged on his mouth, but where it normally bordered on aloof, this morning it trembled with an edge of hostility never before present. “Well, look it there, if it isn’t my favorite bartender. Aren’t you a clever, clever girl?”

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Dark eyes narrowed. “I could ask the same question.”

“I live here.”

“So do I,” he shot back.

“God, are you kidding me?” Shaking my head, I rubbed my temples between my thumb and middle finger as I took a single step out onto the landing.

A dry chuckle rolled from him. “It seems we run in the same circles. Charlie owns this building, remember? Considering my best friend and his niece went and got hitched, that practically makes us family.”

I wanted to fume. Charlie was my family.

“And you just had to pick this apartment?” I accused.

Shrugging, he leaned against the doorframe, for the briefest flash of a second distracting me from my anger when he crossed those strong arms over that strong chest.

Damn him.

“I wasn’t about to intrude on Anthony’s place considering his wife and kids are coming out to stay for a week or so during the wedding. I’m going to be here for a couple of months and I needed a place to crash. Charlie had a place he needed rented. It was a win-win.”

Not for me, it wasn’t.

“Besides,” he continued, “I figured I was due some privacy. It feels like I’ve been living with the guys for half my life. Figured I’d come here and lay low.”

Lay low?

I scoffed, my chin indignant as I jutted it toward the sound of the car engine just starting up from the parking lot below. “Looks like you’re lying low to me.”

An incredulous smile ticked at the corner of his mouth, and he cocked his head.

“What, are you jealous, Red? If I recall, I made it pretty clear I wouldn’t mind it being you slipping out my door this morning. You were the one who said I had millions of girls just begging for the position, aren’t you?” he demanded, rubbing it in like the arrogant bastard he was. “I was only acting on your advice. Two for the price of nothing. Just the way I like it. But I was willing to make the exception and make it a single rather than a double if it meant I got to play with you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“At least I don’t prance around pretending like I’m not dirty.”

He might as well have slapped me across the face. My entire being recoiled and a sharp gasp rushed from my lungs as the voice I’d give anything to forget whispered viciously in my ear.

Dirty.

The memory hit me in an audible wheeze of shock and humiliation and hatred.

“Fuck you,” I whispered. The disabling pain stabbing through my body sucked all the animosity from the delivery. I was sure I sounded like a sniveling baby.

I slammed my door shut behind me and tore my gaze from his, thanking God I was in running gear and this was exactly what I was supposed do.

Run.

Because even if I’d been wearing heels, I was pretty sure I would do the same, and I couldn’t bear to make the vulnerability oozing from me even more glaring. I bounded down the steps, my hand gliding swiftly down the railing as I made my escape.

Run.

“Goddamn it!” The roar hit me from behind in the same second I heard the crushing blow, his reaction sending a tremor through me even though I refused to look back. I knew without a doubt it was his fist landing a punch against his door. Wood clattered as the door crashed into the inside wall before he roared again and kicked it shut.

The air trembled and shook.

I could feel it. The ripples of danger. The threat enclosing in from above.

Run.

A storm was coming.

Frantic, I pushed the buds into my ears and hit the sidewalk, seeking refuge in the steady thud of my feet.