Page 29 of Crown of Smoke

The blood. The roar of the crowd demanding more violence. It made my head spin and my stomach sour. I had to get out of there before I passed out. I made a beeline to the bathroom. The last thing I expected was for the bathroom door to crash open and Flynn to appear.

I can’t deny there’s a part of me that likes his protectiveness. What woman doesn’t like a man to look at her like she’s the center of his world? But I know it’s not something I should encourage or get used to. There’s too much I don’t know about Flynn, and I suspect what I don’t know would be a deal breaker for me. Plus, I’m an independent woman. I don’t need a man in my life, especially one whose protectiveness borders on possessiveness.

I lean against the wall near the exit, my legs still trembling from both the bathroom encounter and the violence I witnessed earlier. The crowd's roar from the boxing ring echoes all around, but I focus on the people around me, not on the violence in the ring.

A fighter stumbles past, blood dripping from his nose. I press myself closer to the wall, averting my eyes. The metallic scent makes my head spin again. I focus on breathing through my mouth.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to sort through the chaos in my head.

"First time at the fights?" A middle-aged man in an expensive suit sidles up beside me, cologne heavy enough to mask the smell of blood and sweat permeating the hall.

"That obvious?" I force a laugh, wanting to appear friendly. Perhaps I’ll learn something about the Keans.

"Tom Mellon." He extends his hand, holding mine a beat too long. "I’d be happy to explain things to you." His eyes rake down my body. "Give you a… private tour of operations."

Funny how when Flynn looks at me like that, my insides light up like a Christmas tree, but this guy makes me feel creeped out. “That’s very nice of you, but?—”

He steps closer, backing me against the wall. My skin crawls as his hand settles on my hip. "Maybe start with dinner?" His thumb strokes my side. "Unless you'd rather skip straight to dessert?"

"I should really get back?—"

"Come on, don't be shy." His other hand braces against the wall beside my head, caging me in. For a moment, I’m back in the alley with four men threatening to violate and then kill me.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be here alone, anyway. Let me take care of you." The stench of his cologne suffocates me as he leans closer. “I can make you feel?—"

A blur of movement. Tom's weight vanishes as Flynn rips him away from me.

"Touch her again and I'll break more than your shoulder." Flynn’s voice is deadly calm, belying the savage fury in his eyes. He twists Tommy's arm at an unnatural angle. A sickening pop. Tom's scream pierces the air as his shoulder dislocates.

Flynn pushes him against the wall, looming over him, muscles coiled tight. "She's off limits." Each word drips with menace. "Spread the word. Anyone who comes near her answers to me. Understood?"

Tom nods frantically, scrambling away. “Fucking lunatic.”

Flynn’s hand settles possessively on the small of my back as he guides me away. His touch is gentle, so different from the brutality I just witnessed. But I can feel the tension thrumming through him, like a predator ready to strike again at the slightest provocation.

When we’re outside, he stops me. "You okay?" His fingers brush my cheek, tilting my face up to his.

I nod, still processing the whirlwind of violence. The way he went from playful lover to deadly fighter in an instant makes my head spin. The casual violence of Flynn’s response should terrify me. But beneath the confusion, an undeniable thrill races through me at his fierce protectiveness.

"You sure?"

I nod again, even though I’m not sure. This is madness. In the span of a few hours I’ve witnessed this man beat up a man for sport, let him take me against a bathroom stall wall, and then watched him dislocate a man’s shoulder like it was a toothpick. He touches me with such tenderness, yet he can snap into savage violence in an instant.

“Let’s get out of here.” His arm slides around my waist again, pulling me against his side. The heat of his skin seeps through my clothes, and despite everything I've just witnessed, my body responds to his proximity. What does it say about me that his dangerous edge doesn’t repel me? I should be running in the opposite direction. Instead, I lean into his touch, craving more of this electric connection between us.

Something about the way Flynn makes me feel—protected, desired, alive—drowns out my usual cautious nature. Even knowing he's capable of such violence, I've never felt safer than in his arms.

I need to guard against this. I don’t belong to Flynn. I can’t come to rely on him whenever I get into scrapes. Moreover, he can’t beat up every person who hits on or leers at me. Somehow, I need to set boundaries. The hard part will be enforcing them.

12

FLINT

Iguide Lucy out of the venue, my hand firm against her lower back. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to the rage still burning through my veins. The image of that bastard's hands on her keeps replaying in my mind.

"You can't just go around hurting people like that," Lucy says, stepping away from my touch. "And what was that possessive display about? I'm not yours."

My jaw clenches. "The hell you're not. You were mine the moment I saved you in that alley."

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