do, I feel even more tired than before. My body sags into the chair. Micki tosses the soaked paper towels into the trash and then moves towards what I can only assume is a laundry room with the bloody washcloths in her hand.
“I'm never going to end up like her,” I hear myself say aloud. If I fall down that rabbit hole, there will be no coming back.
“Want me to teach you how to avoid it?” Micki offers.
Startled, I lift my gaze to meet hers as she steps back into the room. “You?” I ask doubtfully.
She smirks and then reaches down, her fingers curling under the hem of her tank top and lifts. Bruises of every shade and every level of healing mark her skin. Along her ribs and down to her abdomen and it’s then that I realize they’re everywhere else too. I hadn’t even noticed, but there are some lighter ones on her legs and arms.
“Yes,” she says. “I can show you how to fight back if you want.”
I gape at her. Why? I think. Why the fuck would she offer to help a stranger like me? It isn’t until she barks out a sharp laugh that I realize I said that out loud.
“Because,” she answers, “I believe in karma.”
“Karma?”
“Yes.” She nods. “A while back someone helped me out. If they hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here. And I think it’s my turn to help you.”
This girl is absolutely crazy. Certifiable. But as I sit there in her strange, empty kitchen with the leaky faucet and the blue countertops and white tiled floors, I can’t help but think that maybe she’s right.
For someone like Patricia, karma will likely be a bigger bitch than I’ll ever need to be. But until the lazy cunt gets off her ass, what’s the harm in taking matters into my own hands?
“Are you in?” Micki asks, holding out her hand.
I look up at her and though my muscles are sore and tired, I lift my arm towards hers. “I’m in,” I say.
In the present, my eyes open as I hear that old voice. I miss it. Micki had been a fucking light in my life, a true friend if ever there was one. She’d taken me to fight rings and taught me how to predict the movements of others. She’d even participated in some of my more insane adrenaline stunts. She’d recognized that I needed it, and she’d even accepted that as long as I remained in control of the danger, everything was fine. Thinking about her reminds me though … that she isn’t around anymore. She’d been three years older after all and when high school was over for her, she’d moved on.
My throat clenches, and I realize that I've been in the water for too long, I can feel the ache of coldness in my bones. It's fucking freezing. Putting one arm in front of the other, I swim to the closest shore and climb out. Black and green gunk sticks to my skin, and as I climb back up the side of the cliff in my underwear, I know I'll need a bath when I get back to the dorm.
Regardless, it was worth it. Because as I climb, all I can hear in my head is blissful silence.
24
Dean
There is a twisted part of me that likes pain. I like the fight. The feeling of blood on my skin and broken bones under my grip. That was why—when I had Avalon pinned in the back of Brax’s SUV—I’d gotten hard. It had nothing to do with the feel of her soft figure beneath my harder one. Nothing at all to do with the way her tits had strained against her top as she’d fought against me. I close my eyes and hiss out a breath as the memory threatens to do exactly what it had the first time.
The lure of battle was it. That was why. It’s the blood and not the girl—I repeat this in my mind until it becomes a mantra.
The desire to fight and feed the demon inside is part of me that I've always had to beat back into submission, only to let it out in brief spurts. Few people know what I'm truly capable of, two of which are watching me right now as I circle my opponent.
Troy Rodriguez has been mine and my brothers' trainer for years. Ex-military grunt turned bodyguard and personal trainer, he knows everything there is to know about self defense and