Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,76

pain.

For the first time in forever, I’d danced without having to fight through the pain to breathe. Despite weeks of inaction, muscle memory proved to be my greatest asset, and I reached for the peace I’d found in the dance and the silks. It was harder with an audience.

It shouldn’t be.

“Hey pretty girl, you lost?”

“She looks lost.”

The crunch of the rock hitting jarred me as the music faded between songs, and I just stopped moving. Hands on my hips, I dropped my chin and tried to slow my breathing. I didn’t want to think about the boys or the park.

Or the beautiful painting Rome made before there was blood on the cement.

A click had me opening my eyes again. Jasper stood at the CD player, and he’d turned it off. “Talk to me,” he said quietly.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

I laughed, and the sound came out muddied with tears I refused to shed. I’d given up crying a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to start now. “That’s a stupid question, and you’re not a stupid man.”

Surprise flickered across his face.

Moving to walk in a slow circle, I worked on cooling off.

“I want to help you,” he said in a voice so soft, I thought I had to have imagined it, but whenever I faced him, he tracked me with that storm-kissed gaze.

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t do that. Ask me for anything else.”

I laughed again and shook my head. “You built me a dance studio.” That I could appreciate.

“You said you needed it.”

“But if I say I need you to let me go, that’s off the table.”

“It’s safer for you here.”

I spun to face him. “What the hell does that mean?”

He stalked toward me. “That’s a stupid question,” he parroted back at me. “And you’re not a stupid woman.”

Woman.

Not girl.

I didn’t understand why that registered with me. “Why do you want to keep me safe?”

Lifting a single finger, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t touch me until I nodded slowly. With care, he stroked that finger down my cheek. I was sweaty and gross, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “You’re perfect.”

Of all the things he could have said, that never even ventured in the direction of a list I would have made. The breath I’d been trying to regulate backed up into my lungs. He drew a heart against my cheek.

“You’re a work of art in motion,” Jasper continued, and I couldn’t look away from his eyes as he seemed to bore his gaze into mine. “There is nothing I won’t do for you.”

That should scare the shit out of me.

“Eric?”

“Nothing,” he repeated. “He’ll never touch you again. You can forget him.”

Fear shivered through me, and something a lot darker. “Is he still alive?”

He trailed the finger down to my throat, and my heart grew a bit more frantic at the contact. “Do you really care?”

“Maybe,” I said. “He blames me for being here.”

“Fuck him.”

“I’d really rather not,” I retorted, and a smile curved Jasper’s lips. It was the first real grin I thought I’d ever seen from him. It softened his entire expression and transformed it. I clenched as liquid heat pooled between my thighs, and fuck me, wanting any of these guys was the worst idea.

Wrapping his hand around my nape, Jasper stroked his thumb against the base of my skull, and my pulse began to rabbit. “He hurt you.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to answer.

“We know about the bones. The bruises. The violence.”

I still didn’t respond.

“Did he do anything else?”

“Why?” I was so proud of my voice for not coming out tremulous or weak.

“Because every fucking thing he’s ever done to you, I’m going to visit on him three-fold. He’s going to suffer for hurting you.”

Holy.

Shit.

“You’re torturing him?” My nipples tightened, and I swore I had to keep still or I’d have rubbed my thighs together.

Jasper studied me for a long moment, then he gave the barest pressure and I tilted my head back, well aware I was baring my throat. Everything about this was wrong. I should take a step back. Put more distance between us. But I didn’t fucking want to.

“The idea of me torturing him turns you on,” Jasper murmured. “Doesn’t it?”

I licked my dry lips, and his gaze seemed riveted to the action. Fuck it, what could a little truth hurt? “I hate him.”

“What did he do to you, baby?” The soft croon of his voice seeped in to me