Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(26)

It shook us both from the daze and back into this painful reality.

They launched into one of those seventies disco songs that no generation could resist.

I took two fumbled steps back and stared across the short space at the man who was panting. Looking as if he was ready to pounce. To destroy, plunder, and desolate.

“Uncle Wyrik…Uncle Wyrik, dance with me! Dance with me! Imma butterfly!”

Kallie was at his side, jumping up and down with her arms in the air.

Warily, he looked between us, his chest heaving. He lifted her. Her grin grew wide with joy as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He cast me one last pleading glance before he turned away and started dancing with her.

Bouncing her and swinging her and making her howl with laughter.

Tremors rolled and the air turned cold.

Fear gripped me tight.

I can’t feel this.

And like a coward, I turned and ran.

After all, running was what I did best.

I drove directly to my apartment. I cut the engine and sat in the silence for a few moments, trying to reorient myself.

To regain control.

Pushing out a breath, I opened the door and stepped into the night. Gusts of wind stole the peace, cutting through the trees and tumbling along the ground.

Climbing the stairs, I held the railing, slowly pulling my weary body up. My heels dangled from the fingers of my free hand, my head lowered.

Staggering loneliness swamped me.

Rushed over me.

Wave after wave after wave.

I hated how bad it hurt.

I wanted to put up my shields and lift my chin and paint that hard, fierce scowl on my face.

But I was getting weak.

The faintest flash of lightning lit up somewhere in the far distance and my hair whipped around my head.

I mounted the last step onto the stoop and headed toward my door.

A deep, hard rumble echoed through the air. Drawing closer. Coming nearer.

It trembled through me like energy and light and life.

God.

Was he chasing after me?

Why was he doing this?

I knew I should run. Lock myself in my apartment and never come out.

But I was frozen with my hand on the doorknob.

A bright light blinded my eyes as Lyrik eased his bike into his spot. He planted his feet as he came to a stop. The engine grumbled and rolled, the sound beating through my heart and pulsing through my veins.

He killed the engine and the headlight dimmed.

The street lamp filtered in from above in a milky haze. Playing across his face as shadows.

And I wondered if I was wired wrong. If I gravitated toward *s and manipulators and those who would only bring me pain.

Because my want for him was greater than the fear that clogged my throat. Greater than the knowledge that when he was finished, he was going to leave me behind.

Desolate me.

It was all supposed to be contained.

Concealed and buried and camouflaged.

The perfect masquerade.

All feeling corralled.

Suppressed.

With the man staring up at me and me staring down at him, I dug deep for conviction. For the confidence I’d found. In who I’d become.

I was Tamar King.

And Tamar King was nobody’s slave.

I held complete and utter control.

But Lyrik West single-handedly made me feel as if I was losing that control. I could feel it unraveling. Pieces splintering. Ripping and snapping.

He lifted himself from the bike and straightened to standing.

So tall and menacing and beautiful.

Alarm flashed.

“You left,” he said, voice hard.

“And you followed,” I whispered back.

Every promise I’d ever made myself rolled through me on a vicious cycle. The ones I’d made to myself when I was just a little girl. When I was bold, excited, and brave, and had wanted to experience everything in life at least once.

They clashed with the ones I’d made when I was twenty. When I’d turned my back on the girl of my youth and became this hard girl who needed absolutely nothing in her life but herself.

Lyrik slowly mounted the steps.

Relentless.

He stopped at the top. His dark eyes swallowed me whole.

In the distance, thunder rolled. I looked that direction.

“A storm’s coming,” I murmured quietly. I could feel it, gathering in the air. I kept my attention trained on the furor gaining speed, not sure I could continue looking at Lyrik without completely succumbing.

He said nothing as he came closer.

I finally looked toward him as he moved to back me against the door. His hands went to either side of my head.

And again, this dangerous man caged me in.

And I felt vulnerable and small and brave.

Those little girl promises swirled.

I didn’t want to be scared anymore.

Didn’t want to be alone.

“Give me one night. Show me who you are. Show me that anger. Show me why. Fight it out with me with that hot little body.” His words were harsh and desperate. “Or tell me no, Red, tell me no. Say it, and I’ll walk away.”

Fear blasted across my skin, mixing with the fire Lyrik had set.

Together, the two were combustible.

My breath heaved from my lungs.

“I can’t.”