Page 37 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

I inhale a deep breath, maintaining my balance in an advanced toe stand—crouched on the ground with my right foot tucked in the crease of my hip—searching for my center, but all I find is London and the hidden treasures of her body. Recalling all the things she allows me to do, and all the heights she allows me to take us to.

I’ve been with countless women. Too many to even put a number on, and I can’t recall one of them possessing the ability to slither into spaces within me the way London does. How far she reaches without even trying. All the things she gives without even realizing it.

She truly is otherworldly. A deity among men. The shrine I secretly worship.

But I can’t breathe a word about how I feel. About how my affection—my obsession—is rapidly growing. It could jeopardize everything. Erode the tangled and intricate world I’ve erected. There’s too much at stake, so I keep her at arm’s length, hoping we can weather the storm. Hoping that when I touch her, when I murmur her name, I subconsciously communicate the depth of my emotions. The irrevocable connection I feel.

My skin prickles from a sudden gust of an insidious energy. All my senses go on alert, but I don’t move a muscle. I just stay crouched and cross-legged, continuing with my meditation.

I lay in wait, and at the precise moment, I stretch out my hand and catch the foot flying toward my face. With an iron grasp, I open my eyes to find my elusive uncle standing over me, one second away from getting taken down. I smile cunningly before I flick my wrist and send him spinning to the floor. He lands with a thud and then laughs.

“How did you know?” he asks with mirth.

“The student has surpassed the teacher,” I declare peacefully in my toe stand. “It’s nice of you to resurface.” I slip out of my position and rise, offering a hand to Alistair.

He smacks it away amicably before bounding onto his feet like a cat. He’s as proficient in martial arts as I am, and the reason I turned to it in the first place. It saved my life and helped mold me into the man I am today. Martial artsandAlistair both did.

Alistair is the only father figure I’ve ever known. He’s only seventeen years my senior, but I’ve looked up to him my entire life. He and my mother fled Ukraine when she found out she was pregnant with me. They didn’t want me to grow up in the same impoverished, exploited environment as they did. My mother was groomed for the sex trade early, and by the time she was fourteen, she found herself pregnant. She doesn’t know who my biological father is, but I’ve always loved the man who raised me. Nothing in my life feels like it’s missing. I’m whole, and I always have been. They made sure of it. I don’t need the genetic makeup of a random man who spent one meaningless night with my mother to help define who I am.

Alistair bows, dressed in black slacks and button-up shirt. Always the epitome of put together. Not exactly sparring attire, but if he wants to fight, we can fight.

I bow in return and then it’s on. With a huge, taunting smile, Alistair begins to circle. I just stand in place, following him with my eyes.

“You going to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Here and there.” He offers no solid response.

“Sounds interesting.” He moves out of my eye line.

“It was,” he confirms, before kicking low at my knee. I deflect the kick and land a blow on his ribcage.

“Easy, old man. You’re not as quick as you used to be.” We’re facing each other, circling around my dojo in an entangled dance.

“You should have more respect for your elders.”

“I only call them like I see them.” He strikes with a lightning fast combination of kicks and punches, landing one on my stomach. I lurch back but regain my footing quickly.

“What were you saying, Jetson?”

“Don’t call me that.” I grit my teeth.

“It’s your name.”

“Not in this house, and you know it.”

“It will be your name whether you are in this house or not.”

I growl, then throw a punch catching Alistair on the chin.

“Little fucker.” He laughs, aggression dancing in his hazel eyes.

“You wanna hit me?” We continue to circle.

“I want to beat the fuck out of you.”

“Let’s see you try.” We attack in a wicked wrangle of hook kicks, knee strikes, and cross jabs. I back handspring out of the crossfire and land on my feet with a haughty smirk.

“Now, you’re just showing off,” he huffs.

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