“That’s settled then. Three weeks today you will fight. Tonight we talk business. I have matters I’d like to discuss with Mr Bernard,” Grim says, motioning to Zayn who’s still sitting at the table watching everything unfold. He hasn’t lost his cool at the turn of events, but Jeb is practically salivating. I can see a slow smile spread beneath his mask as his calculating mind whirs with possibilities. Doing business with Grim must be something he’s wanted for a while and I can’t help but wonder what she has planned.
“I’m all ears,” Zayn says, standing.
He approaches Grim, still playing the part, not even acknowledging me. I shouldn’t be affected by his dismissiveness, but I am. My fingers curl into my palm as anger bubbles. I’m sure he expected Grim to chuck us all out, banning us from ever returning, but she hasn’t and now he’s taking the opportunity to do business. Beast looks at Grim, frowning, his confusion evident. Regardless, he makes his feelings known to Dax before losing the opportunity to do so.
“You disrespect Grim and her club rules one more time and I don’t give a fuck how good a fighter you are in the cage or what pretty little girl has your back, you’re dead. Understand?”
“Understood,” Dax bites out, flashing a look at me that has my heart lurching.
Beside him, Xeno is scowling and York is watching me closely, his icy-blue eyes cold and unflinching. I flick my gaze away, not ready, or willing, to try and decipher what’s going through their heads right now. I can’t even begin to navigate through this fucked-up mess of an evening.
“Now that’s settled, let’s get on with business… Mr Bernard,” Grim says tightly, indicating for Zayn to walk with her so they can discuss business elsewhere, away from prying eyes.
“One moment, if I may?” Zayn asks Grim respectfully, flicking his gaze to me.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch Grim watching me, waiting for me to give her a sign to intervene. I don’t.
“Of course.” Grim smiles tightly when I remain determined.
She steps away leaving me to face Zayn. It’s only then, as a look passes between them both, that I realise Grim is fully aware that Zayn is playing Jeb. That she knows there is more to this than meets the eye, but I don’t let myself think about what that means. Instead, I focus all my attention back on Zayn, zeroing in on just him and blocking everyone else out. I jerk my chin and straighten my spine, readying myself for the blow that I know is coming.
Zayn steps closer to me, his lips pressed into a tight line and his ebon eyes swimming with a thousand words left unspoken. I swallow hard, acutely aware that we’re being watched by the rest of the Breakers, by Jeb, by Grim and Beast. I’m certain that most occupants of the warehouse are interested to see how things unfold too and I hate that I’ve lost control of the situation. Regardless, I wait for him to make the first move because right now I’m hanging on by a thread, the sheer force of my will keeping me standing upright and not collapsing into an exhausted heap. I tip my head back to look up at him as he towers over me. Beneath the mask, Zayn tenses, the red light from the skull casting his face in a demonic glow.
I feel small.
When I’d danced I’d felt tall in every sense of the word. I wasn’t meek, I wasn’t intimidated. I was powerful, strong, untouchable. Right now I’m just a girl who has nothing left to fight with. My energy is depleted, my will to fight dwindling. My proverbial bucket is empty.
I’m quivering with everything, because now that I’ve let my emotions out, there’s no shoving them back in. There’s nothing I can do to stop him, to stop this.
“Don’t,” I whisper. I beg, actually. There’s no misinterpreting my plea. I don’t want to be raped. I don’t want him to hurt me that way, and I’m fully aware there’s still a chance that might happen. Maybe not here, not now, but later when Grim can’t step in to stop it, when I’m left alone with the Breakers and Jeb.
“You and I will take this up later.” Zayn guts me with his harsh words and my throat tightens on a sob that I force back down into my curdling stomach.
“Please. No—” I respond in a shaky voice, but he cuts me off, stepping into my space and grasping the back of my head roughly.
“Later!” he growls, then kisses me hard. Hard enough to bruise my lips, hard enough to make me quake with fear. His fingers dig into my scalp, tugging on my hair so tightly my scalp prickles with the sharp pain. I whimper, my hands automatically pushing against his chest, but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping a solid arm around my back. It doesn’t stop him from sliding his whisky-coated tongue into my mouth and it doesn’t stop him from pressing every inch of his body against mine, holding me close. He’s hard, turned on, and I hate him for it. I hate him because a part of me, the part I’ve buried for the past three years, longs for him.
I’ve longed for this kiss.
But not like this.
A sob rises up my throat. Another time I would’ve responded differently, passionately.
But it’s all I can do to stop the tears from falling and my heart from shattering into a million tiny pieces like a jewel bludgeoned with a hammer. The shards rip at my internal organs, cutting me up in a way I never knew was possible. I’m too weak to fight him off. Weak both physically and emotionally. So I let him kiss me. I stand stiff, unresponsive as he kisses me to prove some kind of point. His teeth clack against mine in anger. His tongue delves inside my mouth, stroking, searching, seeking out a response. God, I try so hard not to respond. I cling onto the hate because if I succumb, if I let him in, if I really lean into his touch like I’ve craved for so long, then I’m no better than him or any of these men and women who’ve allowed their weaknesses to take hold tonight.
Right here, right now. I’m making another point.
I don’t want to be that girl who crumbles because of one kiss, no matter how talented the kisser, or how much her heart has longed for this moment.
I don’t want to be that girl who forgives because the man she loves is kissing her with a passion that ignites all the things that are wrong between them, and burns them to the ground.
I never wanted our first kiss after all this time apart to be like this, to happen in a place like this. I’ve imagined every other possible scenario, but not this.
But just like Xeno did on the dancefloor in Rocks, Zayn takes, and I let him.
Just this once, I let him.
Eventually, he pulls back. Emotions rush beneath his gaze, too fast for me to decipher, to unravel in the moment. I’m drawn into his gaze, a dangerous vortex that spins with too much feeling. My breathing hitches, my eyes well with tears that I blink back fiercely because Zayn isn’t looking at me with emptiness, with hate or anger.
He looks at me with longing, with fucking hope.
That look is the final straw, and my knees buckle again. They fucking buckle and internally I’m cursing myself for my physical weakness. Like a newborn foal, my legs wobble with exertion. Zayn hoists me up, steadies me. Worry replaces the hope in his gaze and with infinite care, he brushes his lips against my cheek and rests them against my ear, his body curving over mine as he crowds me. To anyone else watching us, this is the move of a dominant man, someone who’s used to overpowering another. To everyone in this room bar the Breakers, this is one man taking ownership of someone deemed less powerful, weaker than he is. But I know better. The change is subtle, but unmistakable. When his fingers release their death grip on my hair, and he cups my head gently, his thumb rubbing over the spot that tingles still, I know that he’s trying to break down the wall between us even though it’s three years thick. I’m not certain I trust his motives, but I do feel the honesty in his actions and that gives me pause for thought. It gives me a little of my strength back.