Flawed Heart: House Of Obsidian - Bella Jewel Page 0,12
into my hands and cover it, trying to protect myself. People are shoving around me, knocking my body from side to side as they cheer the fight on. I keep my face down, but I don’t miss the loud, booming, familiar voice that rings out. “The fuck are you bastards doing fighting in my club?”
I don’t look up. I can’t. My entire body is frozen. If I stay like this, maybe he won’t see me.
“He fucked my woman!” one man yells.
“I don’t care if he fucked your dog,” Max bellows. “Take that shit outside, right fucking now.”
There’s more arguing and then comes the words I never, ever wanted to hear. “Hey, you okay down there?”
Oh God.
He’s talking to me.
I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t do anything but tremble. Maybe if I just turn and scurry off, he won’t notice me. Maybe he’ll just think I’m a drunken woman who has no idea what she’s doing.
“Hey, lady, you okay?”
Oh God.
I’m contemplating my move when a hard, firm hand wraps around my arm. It then tugs, and my hands fall from my face. I stare at the floor; I can’t look at him, I can’t . . . I’m not ready. I should have never come here.
“Look at me.”
His voice is thicker, raspier. Does he know?
“Now.”
I don’t. I can’t. It’s too hard.
“Look. At. Me.”
Slowly, I lift my head. The moment I see his face, I gasp. It’s as if someone has slapped me. Pain radiates right to my very core as I take in the face of the man I love so fucking much. I was right; he’s changed. So much I hardly recognize him. His once flawless face is sporting light scars, like I first thought. His nose has been broken, and he’s got a scar in his eyebrow.
Yet, even through all this, he’s so fucking beautiful he takes my breath away.
Once brown eyes seem almost black now, and his hair is shorter than I ever remember. His jaw is more masculine, and he’s got scruff on his chin. Two-day growth. It looks incredible on him. He’s kneeling before me, and up close his body is so huge I know he could crush me with one simple flick of his hand. I’m as small as I always was, and now he seems so massive.
“Ana?” he says, his voice thick.
I can’t do this.
“I c-c-c-can’t,” I cry, scurrying backwards.
He moves quickly, pushing his body forward towards mine, but I keep moving. When he shifts, I see a tattoo beneath his shirt. It’s my name. He never had that before. Something lodges in my throat and tears burn in my eyes. Why would he get a tattoo of my name when he completely destroyed me? Why? I don’t understand. He said he didn’t love me. So why the hell does he have that? Is it some sort of reminder of the mistakes he’s made?
“Ana,” he says again, lashing out, trying to grab me.
“No, no!”
I turn and get on my hands and knees, crawling through the crowd. I’m in a dress and heels, so this isn’t working out so well for me. As soon as I can, I launch to my feet and start running. I shove through the crowd, trying to escape, needing air so desperately I feel my throat closing in.
“Ana!”
No.
No.
No.
“Fucking stop!”
I can’t.
Max, I can’t.
I run as fast as I can, and when I hit the bottom of the stairs, a big hand wraps around my upper arm and spins me. I fly as if I weigh nothing and slam into a hard, massive chest. My face presses against it and I make a strangled, sobbing sound. I raise my hands and start fighting, pushing back, trying desperately to get away.
“Stop fightin’ me. Fuck, just calm down.”
“Let me go, I shouldn’t have come here. Max, please let me go.”
He doesn’t. His big hands stay on my shoulders and he holds me there effortlessly, as if I’m not squirming and trying to free myself. I don’t look up at him—I just stare at his chest, and I keep trying to break free. I can’t meet his beautiful eyes, because that means letting him see this raw, broken pain in my own. I can’t allow that.
“Please,” I cry.
He moves me, not answering, and not giving me the chance to fight further. He leads me up the stairs, his big body behind mine, his hands on my shoulders. I don’t fight, because the closer I can get to the outside, the closer I am to escaping.