Authors: Sibylla Matilde
Because of Kian
© 2014, Sibylla Matilde
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the Sibylla Matilde.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. With the exception of the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
For Mike who never gave up on me,
even when you maybe should have.
I love you.
For
my Pimp Shell, who believes
in me, crazy kiwi.
And for my amazing stepmom, Mary Ellen, who
likes this dirty shit as much as I do.
Other novels by Sibylla Matilde
Chapter 13 ~ Too Good to be True
Chapter 14 ~ Alternative Therapy
- Escape ~ Thirty Seconds to Mars
- Savior ~ Thirty Seconds to Mars
Brynn
Waking up soaked with your own blood can really fuck a person up.
Not that I hadn’t woken up bloody before, because I had.
And not that I wasn’t already a little fucked up, because I was. But something about coming to and realizing that a life had seeped out of you. A life that frightened you, but that you mourned all the same. Because it made you hope you could be normal.
I remember
lying on the floor. The sticky, half-dried blood. The sharp, cramping pain. The soulless, bitter failure. The tormented, crushing guilt. It was my fault that things had gotten this bad. It wouldn’t be long if I stayed.
Oddly,
that danger kept me still for a long while. Part of me wanted to stay, for this hell to finally end. Eventually, he’d finish it – finish me – because I had a deviant, masochistic side that brought out the monster in men. Very few people would really even care if I disappeared. I wasn’t much of a social butterfly at that point in my life. I barely spoke to my coworkers and had all but alienated my friends.
But, in the end, I knew it would crush my parents
.
You see,
I wasn’t always a fucked up mess. Or maybe I was and just never realized it. But my mom and dad didn’t have a clue about this shit with Evan. When things started to get bad, I pulled away, drawn by the darkness. Ashamed of my perversion. My unnatural desire was hard to face considering the normality of my youth. A doted on only child with warm and caring parents. No great traumatic events. No warping circumstances to make me this way.
So it
was because of them that I found the strength to get up, pack my car, and leave. I knew if I died at Evan’s hand my mother would never recover. Her child beaten to death by an abusive boyfriend. She’d wonder what she did wrong, how she could have helped me. My father would have been destroyed, knowing he hadn’t protected his little girl. Their relationship with each other would suffer and deteriorate. I’d only end up wrecking them, too.
Unfortunately,
just getting up and out of a shitstorm doesn’t make everything go back to normal. I’m still rather wacked from the whole experience. It’s truly amazing how physical and emotional abuse can skew your perceptions of the entire world.
About yourself.
I was irrationally afraid of everyone around me. I hid it as well as I could and put on a brave face, but inside I trembled with every beat of my heart. To cope with the constant, eerie cloud of dread, I gravitated towards real danger. Genuine threats to my mortality that would kick my fight or flight instinct into high gear.
And there was a
suspicion deep inside me that Evan was dead-on every time he blamed me for his rages. Every time he told me I was fucked in the head and would only contaminate those around me. That I’d turn everything to shit.
And for a long time, I believed him.
Until Kian…
1 ~ Twisted
- Lonely Stranger ~ Eric Clapton
- Crazy in the Night ~ Kim Carnes
- Crazy ~ Gnarls Barkley
- Monster ~ Eminem (feat. Rihanna)
Brynn
He had never hit me quite like that before.
I'd been slapped, shaken, gripped until you could see each finger in the bruises. I’d been kicked in the
ribs and had joints dislocated. But this was the first time he'd truly used his fist like that. This was the first time he'd punched me, really truly punched me, in the face.
I began to fall with the force. It all seemed like slow motion as
my consciousness began to fade.
Something new for therapy
, my brain sickly whispered.
How did he find me? How did he know I was in Bitterroot?
As I crumpled to the ground, I heard another voice.
"What the fuck?!" the new man growled.
"This is none of your business," Evan muttered. "Get the hell out of here."
"Fuck that, asshole."
The voice drew closer and I heard a bit of a scuffle. I tried to open my eyes, to see what was happening. My mind was screaming.
Help me!
But I couldn't get the words out.
"Listen here, little fuck
er," the growling voice said. "You don't hit a woman like that. EVER."
"You don't understand," Evan began to stammer. "This is... She... This isn't any of your business." His
forced bravado showed signs of failure, betrayed by the disquiet in his voice. If I hadn't been in my haze of pain, if that heavy cloud hadn't enveloped me, sealing me away, I almost would have smiled.
How many times had he brought the fear out in my voice?
Another shuffle, a grunt from Evan, and the gravelly voice spoke again.
"You get that urge, you want to hit a woman? Fuckin' hit me."
"I don't wanna fight with you, man
," Evan forced out.
"
Oh, that’s right. You wanna hit a woman, don’t you? Okay, you little son of a bitch. How about this? Pretend I'm a woman and fuckin' hit me!"
And then, the black abyss that I’d always yearned for, the
numbing emptiness, took hold of me and everything else faded away.
Brynn
I felt a large heavy hand close over my upper arm, pulling me up from the cold ground below. Panic struck. I totally freaked out, striking and slapping in an attempt to escape. But a soft, deep voice soothed my fear and brought me back to awareness.
"It's okay
." He pressed my head against his chest as his calm intonation rumbled against my ear. He held me firmly, but not harshly, like Evan tended to do. My consciousness slowly began to return. I felt protected and sheltered, my fragility wrapped in warm, strong arms. I pressed my face against the soft flannel shirt he wore as his large hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face up to the dim light filtering from the distant streetlamps.
The low light of the alley behind the club made it
hard to see him, but there was an odd familiarity as he held me in the shadows. His fingertips cradled my head as his thumb brushed against the rapid swelling of my cheek. A shot of pain from the touch caused me to flinch slightly, and concern fiercely lit his features.
“
We need to get you to a doctor,” he said softly, yet firmly.
“No,” I shook my head, and then winced with the sharp pain. “No doctor. I’ll be okay.”
“Baby, you had one hell of a knock to the head when you hit the ground. You were out cold for a minute there.” Those large, warm hands continued to cup my jaw so he could study me closely. “You need to get that checked out.”
“No…
I’m still on my parents’ insurance until I turn twenty-six. I don’t want them to know about this.”
“You could have a concussion,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes. “You could just drop dead from a bleed to the brain.”
I choked out a dry laugh. “I think it would be worse if my dad found out. He’d go ballistic.” Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my hands. “I just need to go home. That’s all…”
“I’ll pay,” he said.
Shocked, I looked up at him. “What?”
“I’ll pay your bill. I can’t just let you go like this.”
What the hell
? This guy was taking the Good Samaritan act a little too seriously.
“No, that’s really sweet of you to offer, but I can’t,” I protested.
“
Listen—” he started, but I cut him off.
“What if they bill it wrong
?” The panic crept up into my throat, strangling me as he kept insisting. Between this and Evan finding me, I was really starting to lose my cool. I couldn’t let him take me to a doctor. “Hospitals do that all the time. They’d have my social security number, punch it into some computer, and then my dad gets a bill that says I was assaulted. I can’t…” I jumped when he put his hand gently on my shoulder.
“Calm down, baby,” he said
soothingly. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”
“I’m just gonna head home. I’ll be fine.”
“Is there someone there who can watch out for you? You probably shouldn’t sleep too heavily. Maybe I could call someone.”
“I live alone
,” I said, lifting my gaze back up to his. “But seriously, I’ll be okay.”
For a moment, I thought he
might let me go. He didn’t look happy about it, however I honestly thought he was going to cede to my wishes. He looked around and scanned the parking lot for a moment, then straightened and held out his hand to me, enveloping my own in his strong grasp to help me up. Once I was standing, I realized how tall he was. He had to be close to a foot taller than me. I was just below average in height, but felt completely dwarfed by him.
“Well, thanks for—”
“Baby, you’re not out of the woods yet. You need to stay awake, need some ice for your head.”
“Listen,” I started, “I don’t need—”
“Come on. Let’s go get a cup of coffee,” he interrupted as he placed an arm around my back, resting his hand at my hip and guiding me towards a really awesome-looking bike parked somewhat near my car. I knew very little about motorcycles, but my dad loved them. And this one was rather stunning. Older with an emblem that said Victory, lots of chrome.
“It’s the middle of the night,” I snorted, “and I don’t even know your name.”
“Hmm, my bike may not be wise. I don’t want you falling off the back,” he murmured as he frowned down at me for a long moment, then changed direction towards my car. “We should take your car.”
Wait a minute. How did he know that was my car
?
In my confusion,
I mindlessly allowed him to navigate me as he cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Name’s Kian, by the way.”
“Key-what?”
I asked dumbly.
“Kian
Tierney. K-I-A-N. It’s my name.”
“What the fuck kind of name is Kian?”
He laughed, and his perfectly straight, white teeth glinted in the faint light. “Named after my Irish grampa.”
“Um,
okay. Nice to meet you, Kian,” I murmured. This felt oddly surreal. The touch of his hand on my body practically burned through my jeans. My face throbbed from Evan’s punch. And here I was going through the motions of a polite introduction.
How weird
. “My name’s Brynn Ashton.”
“I know. I’ve seen you around.”
Ohhh…
Part of me thought that was
kinda stalkerish. He knew who I was. He knew my
name
. And here I actually sort of tried to fly under the radar in an effort to avoid Evan. The good little girl in me wondered if I should be concerned, but the twisted part of me thought it was pretty fucking hot.
Kian held out
one hand as he placed the other at my hip to nudge me towards my car. “Give me your keys,” he commanded, and I almost responded without a second thought.
But, wait
a minute. This was
my
car. I scowled up at him. “What? Why?” I balked. “This is
my
car. How about I just meet you there?”
“
Um, no. I’m not going to let you drive just yet. You just cracked your head. You could pass out and wreck. It would be better to put you on the back of my bike.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’m fine to drive. I’m not going to pass out. I don’t even have a headache.”
“Yet,” Kian slanted a gaze down at me.
“I’m not giving you my keys,” I grumbled obstinately.
Kian turned back towards his motorcycle with a perplexed expression on his face. “Fine,” he sighed, “we’ll take my bike, but you better hold on tight. If I feel you loosening your grip, I’m gonna stop. I don’t want you falling.”
“I’m not going to—” I started again.
“I mean it,” he said, clearly ending this disagreement. “I want your arms around me…
tight
.”
A faint chill ran through me as he let go of my waist to climb on the bike.
Watching him swing his leg over the back and settle on the seat had all kinds of naughty thoughts floating through my brain. “Hop on,” he gestured to the back.
“You know,” I said hesitantly, “
my parents always told me not to talk to strangers.”
Ugh, what a little kid thing to say.
Kian’s responding chuckle was warm and rich.
“If I was going to do something to you, I’ve had plenty of chances before now,” he laughed, appearing genuinely amused. “You were out cold on the ground about ten minutes ago.” He nodded his head to the back of the bike again. “Really, come on. We’ll go down the street to the Early Bird. It’s open twenty-four hours. You’ll be in full public view and completely safe.”
There was really no arguing with this man.
So, in spite of my reservations, I climbed onto the back of his bike and placed my hands at his sides to hold steady as he revved up the engine and pulled out of the lot.
Actually
maybe it was because of my reservations. Because, little did he know, feeling safe wasn’t usually what I tended to go for.
“That guy,” Kian said after taking a long drink of coffee, “the guy outside the bar. Who was he?”
“Evan…” I said softly, holding a towel with some ice to my cheek. Oddly, the waitress hadn’t even blinked an eye when Kian asked her for it. I suppose the midnight shift near the bars tended to get customers who were a little worse for the wear. And I was pretty sure I looked a bit rough.
Kian, though… Kian was
stunning
.
In the dark of the alley behind the club, I’d only seen a silhouette of his strong jaw. I’d only gotten a hint of the
just barely shoulder-length hair pulled back to the base of his neck. He’d towered over me when we stood, and, even through the thick leather of his jacket, I could feel his solid strength as I rode on the back of his bike, which, in its own right, was quite an experience… and then some.
If I loosened my grip in the slightest, he would lay off the throttle, reaching a hand down to grip my arm firmly. To ensure him I wasn’t losing consciousness, I pressed against him and tightened my hold,
practically hyperventilating when he sped up again. The sensation of running my hands over his defined abs still had my fingertips tingling.