Page 25 of Hawke

Charlotte was dangerous to me. I had suspected she was a masochist even before she kept trying to seek me out. That first night at The Box, her pain had been palpable, but as her body wept, using its blood like tears, I had heard her pleasure. The anguished cries falling from her lips only caused an intense desire inside me to hurt her some more. I would destroy her… physically… mentally… completely.

“For fuck’s sake, just let it go,” I mumbled.

Odds were good that she’d already left the building, and was busy railing against me as I stood and breathed. At least I fucking hoped she was. It was for her own good that I toss her aside because my heart was as black as my soul, and even she couldn’t revive what had died long ago.

I ventured further into the room and found another corner in which to people watch. I recognized a few of the men such as Ayden Santiago, and even another officer from the night of the break-in. The number of actual friends I had could be counted with my fingers, and I certainly wouldn’t consider any of the law enforcement as one of them. Very few people knew anything about me, and I could honestly say that the only person in Denver that did was Ryder Nelson who I also spotted.

Ryder, like friends Caine and Lucien, all knew where I had come from, even if they had no idea of the extent that upbringing had on me. I knew them all, too. As an introvert and perpetual loner, I often studied others without them even knowing. I also made it a point to get to know those that I trusted. The few men I could honestly call friends had earned every bit of it. We were like brothers.

Charlotte also had someone close to her as well. She mentioned a woman named Emery, and as my eyes scanned the room, I finally located the female who had accompanied Charlotte into Syn earlier this evening. Something akin to disappointment filled me when there was no sight of the blonde, although that wasn’t surprising to me. Charlotte must’ve left, and while it should have made me feel better, it didn’t. But it would. I would make sure of it. Pushing off the wall, I reversed course and headed back to my office, this time thankful that no one was there looking for me.

I locked the door behind me as soon as I entered the room. It didn’t take long to power on my computer, then pull up the security cameras. From my desk, I could see into any room in the club, but I already knew which one I wanted to see first before my fingers even started to move across the keyboard. Focusing in on the room I had just left Charlotte in, I could see it was now empty. She had left, after all.

“Good girl!”

Relief didn’t always evoke the same feelings as happiness, and I closed my eyes. As my mind drifted, I could still see her sprawled across the bed. Charlotte was likely the most gorgeous woman I had ever laid eyes upon, especially in my most recent memory of her.

After I had told her I was leaving, she had just laid there with her dress in disarray as she stared up at me with such a look of bewilderment. Even though she still wore the crimson and ebony mask across her eyes, she was the poster child for transparency. Pain was etched across her features, and though I valiantly tried not to pretend as if they didn’t exist, I saw the tears welling up in her eyes from across the room.

I had once again hurt her which only caused the eventual shame from sex to fill me even quicker. The dark toxin had raced through my bloodstream like a drug, and I ignored her tear-streaked face even though it was likely the only antidote to what ailed me.

I hated myself, but even more, I hated her. I despised the way she had so effortlessly gotten under my skin, and how impossible it was to get her out from beneath it. Normally, it was so easy to walk away after a scene, but that had been the farthest thing from the truth tonight.

For the briefest of moments, I had wanted to abandon everything that I was for another sample of her. I would have covered her body with mine, then tasted each and every tear before I removed every piece of fabric between us. We would be skin to skin as we practically were in Washington, D.C., that one time.

I’d feel her sweat, the trembling of her slight frame as I hiked one of her legs up to her waist. From there, I’d reenter heaven and fuck Charlotte until I had wrung everything from her. In the end, though, nothing would change. The aftermath would be the same. I would be the sadistic bastard I had always been, hurting her with my goodbye as I’d already done twice.

I exited out of that frame, then pulled up the main room where I could see the mood of the partygoers shifting. As I’d expected, many were moving from one type of celebration to another. Clothing was strewn about as new exhibits were being set up. Grabbing a bottle of tequila, I leaned back and did what I used to do at The Box. I watched others live the kind of life that had been ripped from me at twelve years old, and maybe even sooner than that.

18 – CHARLOTTE

Nursing my wounded pride with a pint of Haagen-Dazs, I stabbed the barely eaten block of ice cream with my spoon. I would rather be poking Hawke with something long and metal, but alas, I only had this pint. It had been over two weeks since Valentine’s Day, and I’d yet to hear from him. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he hadn’t called. In his mind, he probably said all he needed to say when he bid me goodbye.

Bid sounded much better than what he’d actually done. He fucked me like a whore, then disposed of me before the post orgasmic haze had even lifted. The humiliation had stayed with me longer than anything else, especially as I imagined how I had to have looked to him. I was trussed up and cuffed to the wall with a pair of panties stuck in my mouth. While those damned romance novels made it sound sexy as hell, it was actually quite mortifying, yet I would do it again, over and over if needed, for another night with my nemesis.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He was so damn infuriating. It’d taken me a while after Washington, D.C., to deal with the aftermath of that night at The Box. Back then, I didn’t have a name, or a face, to curse. There were ideas in my head which were all shot to hell the moment I was finally able to put both to my nightmare.

That night, I had also not opened myself as fully to him. Of course, most of that was because he left before I could. He was always leaving. If it hadn’t been for the physical marks left behind then, and most recently, I might’ve thought my warped mind had conjured him up completely. He had been real, and the days and nights of pain that followed only reconfirmed that. The physical soon left, but the mental scars still remained as fresh and raw as they had that very night.

I finally set the mint chocolate chip aside, then picked up my cell phone. I had been tempted once or twice to call and give Hawke a piece of my mind, but he would likely decline my call altogether. While I doubted he’d give a damn, maybe he’d be at least a little annoyed and pick up the call anyway. Then, the two of us could be miserable together. Misery did love company. That sounded like the best idea yet, but before I could actually go through with it, my cell phone started to ring.

I could tell from the ringtone who it was without even having to glance at the caller ID. Swiping to answer, I sighed. “What’s up, Em?”

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been busy,” I replied, having already rehearsed an answer days ago. The last thing I wanted to do was unleash her ire on Hawke. I had done a good enough job humiliating myself, so I didn’t need her to add to it.

“You’re full of it because I’ve been by Platinum Dreams.” Leave it to Emery to call me out on my bullshit. “What’s wrong with you?”

I sighed. “I just—”

“Forget it. You can tell me when I get there,” Emery replied as she cut me off. “You’re at least ready, right?”

Ready? For what?

I couldn’t recall the two of us having any plans. I knew that because I’d barely spoken to anyone outside of Chase since…

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