Destroyed(14)

I felt as if I’d lived my life in a haze. Trudging through day to day, always putting other’s needs before my own. For the first time, my own needs made a very strong appearance, and I embraced the awareness, the connection, the simple infatuation by a total stranger.

But then responsibilities bulldozed the fleeting attraction away.

Clara.

Destitution.

Ruin.

How could you let yourself be consumed by him when you shouldn’t even be here?

I no longer hated him. I hated myself for being so weak—he’d made me forget for the briefest of time.

Freezing, I looked directly into his eyes, ignoring the snarl in my stomach. “You’re mistaken. You’re not drawn to me. You’ve never seen me, and I’m leaving so you’ll never have to see me again. Let go of me.”

His eyes rested on my lips; his face hardened, blocking off the interest I’d seen before. “I’m never mistaken.” He unclenched his hand. Pins and needles rushed to the spot where he’d gripped me. “And I never settle until I figure out what I don’t understand.”

My heart lurched. He’s the same. He had the same need to understand. To figure out the unknown before the unknown could hurt him.

“Go away before I regret letting you leave,” he muttered. With fists clenched by his sides, he looked over my shoulder as if searching for a way to run. Gone was his dominating air, replaced with heavy acceptance. Without his potent gaze on me, I scrutinised him.

I didn’t like what I saw. Something heavy lived inside—something squeezed until he trembled with more than just anger. He used the scar as a deterrent, but behind all that lived something else. Something darker, something…sad.

My heart thudded, sending a flood of compassion into my veins.

Oh, no you don’t.

Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and forced all interest and empathy to die a quick death. I couldn’t afford to suffer such idiocy. I was searching for reasons behind his surly attitude, seeing a heavy penance in his scar. You can’t get swept up in the need to help, protect, and listen.

Dragging hands through his longish hair, Fox glared. “I let you go. Why haven’t you left yet?” The faint foreign accent lurked behind a cultured Australian voice. He may have studied hard to sound like a local, but he couldn’t hide his roots completely. Just like he couldn’t tame the wildness in him—the savageness beneath the cool fa?ade.

He didn’t belong here. He belonged in the wilderness, hunting in the dawn, just like his namesake, the fox.

It was my turn to suffer unavoidable curiosity. “Who are you?” I tried to relax, reminding myself he couldn’t harm me, not with so many witnesses. “You trap me and demand answers to your questions, but it works both ways. You want to know something about me?” Twisting to point behind me, I said, “I’m here with a friend. We were invited by Corkscrew and he’s an expert Muay Thai fighter. I didn’t want to come here. I hate what I’m wearing, and you drive me crazy because I can’t read you. You’re dangerous, and I think you have some serious issues.”

Fox pierced me with white-grey eyes. “You’re right to think I’m dangerous.” Ignoring my other comments, he muttered, “Finally, I have a reason to get him in the ring. He can’t flaunt the rules and invite whoever he damn well pleases.” A hard smile stretched his lips.

My skin prickled at the thought of Fox fighting Corkscrew. I liked Ben. He was kind and looked at Clue as if she were a precious gem. There was no way I wanted this lunatic hurting him.

“Stay away from—”

“Everything okay here?” I jumped as a man solidified beside me, appearing from the thinning crowd. He flicked me a curious glance before looking at Fox. “What did I overhear? An excuse to get who in the ring?”

Fox stopped smiling. “Corkscrew invited people without paying for their admittance. I have my reason.” He cracked his knuckles, looking determined and not a little scary.

The blond haired man shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. One fight is enough. Bugger off. Let me run the floor for the rest of the night.”

The air crackled as Fox pierced the new man with a look. In one second Fox asserted authority and in another dismissed it. “Fine. Take over. I’m done being around people for the evening.” His grey eyes landed on mine, letting me know he truly meant me.

“Good choice.” The newcomer frowned, pushing long blond hair from his eyes. He looked as if he should be in an ocean with a surfboard and not an illegal club. “Who are you?” He assessed me, pursing his lips. “I thought all girls had to wear a uniform, so their services weren’t confused?”

Girls? Shit, is that what the waitresses were? Prostitutes?

My hackles rose. My frayed nerves reached snapping point, and I lost all decorum. “Stop asking who the hell I am. I’m done being manhandled, cursed at, and being mistaken for a whore. I’ve had enough.” I pushed past the blond guy only for him to lasso a hand around my upper arm.

Eyeing my breasts, he added, “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a whore maybe you shouldn’t wear such a slutty dress.” He dropped his head, breathing me in. “I can particularly see your nipples, and I know you’re hot for my boss. You can’t hide the flush, princess. You’re wasting your f*cking time. He’s onto women like you.”