Chapter 25 #2
“Male strippers? Steve, I need to can…” She cuts off with a giggle, as Steve wraps his arms around her waist and hoists her into the air.
He rolls his eyes at me over her shoulder before turning her around, lifting and flopping her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
He winks at me and with a final warning to “call if you need anything,” he bodily hauls my friend into the night.
I smile, hearing her giggles and expletives.
I close the door again, lock it and set the alarm.
Tossing my bag, phone and drink on the table, I tuck my keys into my back pocket and make my way to the kitchen.
While I did haul any food waste out earlier in the day, some recycling and paper trash still remain.
I gather up what I can and let myself out the back into the alley.
I toss the bags into the dumpster when I sense movement behind me. I start to turn when a solid body is pressed against my back, pinning me against the cold metal.
I feel a warm breath on my neck as a voice I detest whispers “Hey, baby,” in my ear.
My mind goes completely blank as my body freezes. I feel my heart drop to my feet, then roar back to fill my ears.
Fucking Brett.
He’s got both arms caging me and is pressing my hips against the dumpster hard enough to hurt. The pain brings me back to the present moment.
“Brett, where the hell did you come from?” I try to push his arm out of my way, to get some space, anything, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re fucking squishing me.”
He eases his weight off my back but doesn’t move his arms. I turn around, deciding that facing him is less of a threat than leaving my unguarded back to him. I immediately regret my decision as I’m now stuck staring at his stupid smug face.
“I knew you’d be more receptive without the audience.
And no white knight in sight.” His gaze rakes down my body, making my skin crawl and making me acutely aware that we are, in fact, very alone.
Anne and Steve will be driving, if their reservation is across town.
I put my hands against his chest, trying to push him off of me.
“Looks like you’ve had a change of heart. ” he smirks.
I want to claw his eyes out.
“Excuse me?” I squeak. I push as hard as I can and he barely gives an inch.
Fuck. This isn’t good. Where the fuck is Flint? Why the fuck didn’t I just let them change their fucking reservation?
Because I’m a strong independent woman. Who is probably about to be raped in a fucking alley.
“Oh, com’on, baby. I know you’ve been playing this hard to get game for months and frankly, I’m tired of it. It was cute at first, got me interested, but enough is enough. Using that new stock boy to try to make me jealous? It’s time to pay up.”
“Pay up?” Why do I feel like he’s speaking fucking Greek?
“Pay up? Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t been playing anything, you fucking idiot.
I. Am. Not. Interested. I have tried being polite, I’ve tried being friendly, I’ve even tried being kindly direct.
Fuck, I’ve even been mean. The man I’m with has been mean.
I don’t want you! I don’t want to get to know you better, and I most certainly have no interest in fucking you! I want you to leave. Now!” I yell.
His face is an alarming shade of purple and his eyes have hardened. He moves his hands from the counter and for a split second, I think he’ll just bow out gracefully.
Instead, he grips the tops of my arms hard enough to bruise and slams me back even farther.
“You cock teasing little cunt. I’ll get what’s mine, one way or the other.”
I’m still seeing stars when he slams his mouth onto mine and forces his tongue into my mouth.
He tastes like stale coffee and desperation.
One hand moves to my breast and squeezes, painfully, pulling a whimper from me.
He apparently takes that as encouragement, as he pushes his knee between my legs and I can feel his dick pressing into my leg.
“Calida!” I scream with my mind. “Flint!”
And then I feel like I’m floating a million miles away. As though I’m watching both Brett and myself. I am internally screaming at myself to move, to fight back, to do anything. Instead, I see myself standing there, wide eyed and terrified.
Dimly, I hear the sound of his zipper and feel the cool air on my inner thighs as my skirt is hiked up to my waist.
Suddenly, I’m not there at all. There are clashing swords in the distance and screams of the wounded, the dying.
I feel the rush of anger, bigger than any I’ve ever felt, taking over me and fire flies from my hands towards the approaching enemy.
It’s the anger of those around me, filling me, overflowing me, until it boils over and flies from me in ropes of angry flame, burning the enemy to dust where they stand.
I glance over my shoulder and see Flint, dressed in black metal armor, fighting against three monsters with only a broadsword.
He lifts his blade high, leaving his ribs vulnerable.
I open my mouth to scream, to warn him….
And I hit the ground, completely disoriented.
My head is swimming. I’m nauseated. What the fuck just happened?
Dimly, I hear the sounds of flesh on flesh. I brace my hands on the rocky surface and shove myself into a sitting position, with my back against the cold metal of the dumpster. I look around and realize what I’m hearing.
Brett is being held against the brick wall of the building by one of Flint’s tattooed hands, wrapped around his throat.
Brett already has an impressive bruise forming around one eye, and it looks like his nose is broken, leaking blood in a river down his face.
I’m pretty sure his lip is completely split, given the flow of blood down his face and over Flint’s hand.
Despite struggling to breathe and his face turning an unhealthy color, Brett seems to be trying to talk his way out of this.
“She… fucking… asked… for it,” he wheezes.
“Oh, well now, that was the wrong thing to say. Entirely.” Quick as a snake, Flint reaches between Brett’s thighs, grabs what I assume are his balls, twisting and then squeezing. Brett’s eyes roll back in his head as he makes a sound not unlike a tea kettle come to boil.
“You will stay the fuck away from not only Casie, but this shop. Do you understand me?”
Brett squeaks out something that sounds like “my father” but it’s hard to tell.
“I don’t care who your family is. You will stay away from Casie. If you so much as look at her again, I will fucking end you.” He says the last in a malevolent whisper. He pauses. “Nod if you understand.”
I hope Brett understands because I’m pretty sure he’s reaching the end of his oxygen, and I don’t have enough to bail Flint out of jail for murder.
“Flint.”
“One moment, princess. The men are having a discussion.”
I’m distracted enough by him calling my princess that I’m not even offended by ‘the men’ comment. And I call myself a feminist. Nothing like an attempted rape being interrupted by a hot male currently made entirely of rage for every ounce of feminism to completely leave my body.
Maybe I’m in shock.
Flint leans in close, whispering something that only Brett can hear. Whatever it is, Brett loses all of the color in his face. “This is your final warning.” Flint drops him in a heap. Brett tries to roll over and is able to at last get on his hands and knees.
Planting his boot on Brett’s ass, Flint pushes, causing him to faceplant. I dimly think, I hope he plans on cleaning up the streak of blood Brett’s face just made across the alley because it’ll upset Annemarie and I don’t think I should be responsible for cleaning up blood I didn’t shed.
Yep. Definitely shocky.
“Be happy you’re leaving with only a portion of what you ‘deserve.’ Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
Fear must be one hell of a motivator. His balls have to be screaming, but Brett manages to gain his feet and stumble away.
Flint follows until they’re both out of my sight. Funny — I’m never gonna get tired of how graceful he moves, like some powerful predator, stalking his prey.
My head is starting to swim again and I can feel my adrenaline starting to crash. I’ve never had an adrenaline rush cause hallucinations before. What the hell was that? I shake my head and, when that only causes the swimming feeling to get worse, I give up and rest it on my knees.
Suddenly, Flint is in front of me. He has his hand on my cheek and is drawing my head up to look into my eyes.
Another flash. This time I’m seeing Flint, but he’s staring at me with such wonder and love. He’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had. Like I’m his beginning and his end. I can see his heart shining in his eyes.
We’re standing in a clearing. The air is imbued with the gentle rustle of leaves from the red weeping willows, their branches cascading like a curtain around the secluded haven.
The soft murmur of waterfalls provides a soothing soundtrack, blending harmoniously with the melodic songs of distant birds.
As the sun dips below the horizon, it paints the sky in hues of amber and rose, casting a warm glow over the shimmering surface of the rivers.
He has one hand cupping my cheek and another wrapped around my waist. I realize I’m wearing some sort of leather breeches and a tank top of rough cloth. He leans down, whispering “I love you, Ash,” a moment before his lips touch mine.
“Casie?”
A flash of Flint kneeling before me, cupping my cheek. Then Flint, a bruise forming on his face, a cut across one eyebrow and what looks to be soot? Dirt? Smearing his gorgeous face.
“Casie?”
I come back to myself to find Flint still cradling my cheek, looking at me with concern. Nothing has changed. He is still crouched next to where I’m sitting in a dirty alley.
“Love, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
“I have no idea.”
His concern seems to deepen. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I need a doctor.
” Not yet anyway. I probably need to get back into therapy if I’m going to have hallucinations, but that can probably wait until Monday.
“I really just want to go home. Can you take me home, Flint?” My voice sounds small, even to me.
Not the most convincing version of “I’m fine” I’ve ever performed, but it’s been a day, okay?
I can’t be expected to be at my most vibrant, excellent self constantly. That shit is exhausting.
He studies me for a long minute before his expression softens and he nods. “Of course.”
I stay where I am while he gathers my things. When he returns, I make to stand up, but he swiftly lifts me up and carries me to the sidewalk.
He puts me down to make sure the doors are locked, although he keeps one arm firmly around me. Then he scoops me back up, my bag on his shoulder, and heads down the sidewalk, towards home.
“I’m sure I can walk,” I mutter, even as I am wrapping my arms around his neck and settling my head against his shoulder.
I can feel the hum of his strained chuckle through his chest along with the steady beat of his heart.
“I’m sure you can, but this is much nicer for both of us, isn’t it?”
I can’t argue with that. He’ll probably put me down when his arms get tired, which shouldn’t take long. I keep my head against his chest and allow the steady beat of his heart to sooth and ground me as we head towards home.