Moth (Dragon Triad Duet Book 1), page 17
I glance away. That question sounds so innocent on the surface. “I grew up in a small town,” I finally say. “My parents are fine. No horrific childhood trauma to speak of.”
A lie, of course. All of it, lies. The evidence is all over my skin. My arm is still throbbing, though I avoid looking at the aching flesh. I prefer to eye him instead. Even scarred, he’s still beautiful.
“Typical.” He chuckles. “Let me guess, you had the perfect childhood in some big ass mansion with a servant and shit.”
“Something like that…”
“And Bran?” His inflection shifts, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “When did you meet him?”
“I’ve known him all my life,” I confess, a rare bit of honesty. “He’s always protected me.”
“Oh, really?” He grabs my arm, lifting it. Purple bruises form an unmistakable imprint; that of a grasping, gripping hand staining my flesh like one of his tattoos. “When did he start beating the shit out of you?”
I cringe at the question, clutching the arm to my chest. “It’s nothing.” And it’s true, in a sense. The marks look so much worse than they feel now. A tickle in comparison to my heated lips and relaxed, languid muscles.
Without Branden here, it’s so easy to embrace the selfish impulses I’m used to suppressing. One overriding urge drives me now. I don’t want to lose this moment—this peace.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” He scoffs, but I’m startled by how vicious the sound comes out. He’s angry. Despite my hands pawing at his chest, he sits upright, letting me go. “Yeah. And I wasn’t fucking stabbed. That’s not the first time I’ve seen your arm like that—”
“Don’t do this right now. Please.” My voice breaks. I’m begging. “Please—”
“Stop it. I’m not some fucking teddy bear you can use to make yourself feel better. Is that the plan? He beats the fuck out of you, and you come crawling to me? For what?” He glowers, only to sigh, his frown softening. “Wait… Come here.” I’m in his arms, my face against his chest. He doesn’t let me pull away, tightening his hold until I relent, sinking against him. I don’t even realize that I’m crying at first. Not until I feel his fingers running through my hair, his voice low against my ear. “Go on, bunny. I don’t give a shit if you cry.”
And I do, clinging to him more than I have any right to.
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t think I sleep at all. I just lie here, watching the dawn creep across the sky. His view is better than mine, including a breathtaking snippet of the skyline amid a backdrop of buildings and skyscrapers.
Gradually, he stirs beneath me, flexing the grip he has on my waist. His eyes are closed, his breathing easy. The noise creates a low, muted soundtrack to this moment, and it’s the strangest thing…
It’s like nothing else can intrude on this. Not the reality looming beyond this building. Not Branden. Not anyone.
After years of craving freedom, it almost feels ironic that I would find it on a narrow leather couch in the arms of a man who made his intentions clear from the start. This is all he wants. Moments. Sex, a cuddle, and then a hasty goodbye, and the ability to use this escapade the next time he needs to boast about his prowess to some punk.
I’m frowning as I picture it while my finger traces a featherlight path across his chest. Out loud, I find myself musing, “Is this the part where you kick me out?”
“Yes.” He answers me with his eyes still closed. When he finally opens them, they’re cold and resigned. While I couldn’t sleep, I suspect he did, reaching some internal conclusion during the night.
My finger freezes over his pec, and I slowly withdraw it. “So now we’re done?”
He holds my gaze for so long that I’m dizzy when he finally turns away. “We’re done.” He sits up, shrugging me off him. I gape as he stands and pads down the hall into the infamous bedroom.
“I left my skirt downstairs,” I croak.
He reemerges, dressed in a black shirt and jeans. Without acknowledging me at all, he opens the door and starts down the stairs. I have no choice but to follow him down into that narrow hallway. The larger room must be a storeroom in addition to his drawing space. He tosses me my skirt and shoes, and I find my bag in a corner behind a box of assorted supplies, along with a small, ombre lighter that I take as well.
I’m slipping on my last sandal when I notice a slender object peeking from beneath the table—a book. Recognition sears through me before I even step forward to read the title printed across the cover.
It’s the one he stole from the bookshop—he kept it. I’m dumbstruck by the realization that a man like him has a stashed copy of Emily Dickinson, despite the bloodstains marring the pages.
“You should go before I open,” he grunts from behind me, and I turn in time to catch him round the corner.
“You kept it,” I say, knowing he can still hear me. “The book you took from the bookstore.”
His steps falter until he stops entirely. “Take it.” I’m starting to recognize the way his tone shifts like this, leveled like a dare.
“Have… Have you read it?” My gaze cuts back to the book, and my fingers twitch, aching to grab it—but only to discern as much for myself. Has he read it, something that looks so out of place in his world?
“I can read,” he snaps, taking the question as an insult. “Like you. Though your comprehension must be a million times better given the shit you have to read—” He whirls on his heel, nodding to my bag. “Will you fucking shut that up?”
My cell phone. I fumble through my bag for the device, but rather than withdraw it, I turn it off.
The act doesn’t placate him. If anything, it seems to infuriate him more. With a scoff, he turns his back on me, his shoulders rigid. “Get out, rabbit. Go scamper back to your boyfriend. I’m sure you’re eager to ride his dick after riding mine—”
“You’re being an asshole.”
“I am an asshole.”
“I can see that.” My eyes burn as I push past him to the main storefront. “Have a nice—”
“Fuck!” He grabs my hand, dragging me behind him into the hall. At the same moment, I hear the bell above the door chime.
“Hello?” a woman calls.
I stiffen at the soft, sensual voice. Mara? I crane my neck as far as I dare to peek beyond the doorway. Sure enough, she stands before the counter, a breath of fresh air against the muted backdrop in a baby-pink top and skintight jeans.
“Rafe?” She cranes her neck back to eye the drawings on the wall. “You in here?”
“Fuck.” Hissing under his breath, he pulls away from me and steps from the hallway, blocking me from view. “What’s up, Chan?” His tone straddles an odd note between gruff and polite. “You here for your old man?”
“Hey!” She whirls to face him and smiles. It’s one of her beautiful, breathtaking grins that score her a free bus trip whenever she “forgets” her fare. “No… I just wanted to say thank you for what you did the other night, helping Hannah.” She leans against the counter in a way that makes her curves pop against the thin fabric of her shirt. “Let me buy you dinner later?”
“Um…” Rafe rakes a hand through his hair. Even from here, I can sense where his gaze drifts—where every man in her radius looks. Her hips. Her breasts. Her curves. “I have shit to take care of later. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh…” Mara frowns but recovers with another smile. “Okay. See you around.”
She slinks from the store, drawing glances from a random man walking by. My heart pangs at her posture, though, and how she walks with her head down and shoulders slumping in disappointment.
“She’s gone,” Rafe calls.
I creep from the hall to find him still watching her go. Irritation sears through my chest, startling me. Do I have any reason to even be upset? No.
After all, he set down the rules of the game well before last night.
“You know what the fuck that was about, rabbit?” he demands, his tone suspicious.
I push past him, shoving my way out the front door. “You’re right,” I tell him as I step out into the morning air. “You are an asshole.”
Chapter Fifteen
The shop is still closed, and Mr. Zhang isn’t inside when I enter it. I’m left alone with my thoughts and forced to replay the events of last night over and over again.
Work is my only salvation. I finish documenting and shelving new inventory, letting the tasks consume my focus. After, I file the insurance paperwork to finally work on replacing the window. Then I clean the shop from top to bottom without even taking a lunch break. Once I’m done, I clean it again…
It’s like time is racing up to me, and it’s time to leave before I know it. Too soon. My cell phone is still off in my bag, and whenever I think of going home, my breathing hitches. I can’t. Not yet.
Food seems to be the only thing worth dragging me from the shop in the end. I head toward a familiar restaurant with my head low, jumping at any figure who resembles Branden. My only consolation is that he hates this part of town enough to avoid it, even if searching for me.
Or so I hope.
Still, I nearly run inside the restaurant the second it comes into view. Inside is a pleasant dining room with red walls decorated with elegant accents of gold.
“Hannah?” Mara stands behind the hostess counter, though wearing a far more modest black dress than her outfit from earlier. “Finally come to take me up on that free food?” She winks. “Have a seat, and I’ll join you.”
I take a booth at the back, and minutes later, she saunters over with a plate piled high with assorted veggies and rice.
“It’s on the house,” she declares, sitting across from me. “Where have you been? I tried texting you.”
I pause with a forkful of food near my mouth. “My phone is…dead,” I say. “My charger broke.”
“Oh, that sucks.” She sighs, leaning back against her end of the booth. “I was just looking for reassurance, anyway.”
I choke down a bit of rice. “Reassurance?”
She eyes me warily, biting her lower lip until she can’t contain herself any longer. “Am I fat? Ugly? Anything that might not attract a total douchebag on the first try?”
“What?” I fumble with my fork, dropping it. Diving under the table for it gives me the chance to hide my expression. I struggle to regain control of my lips, forming a neutral line. When I do, I haul myself upright, but Mara isn’t even looking at me.
“I am, aren’t I?” she declares with utter horror. “I’m a total cow.”
“Of course, you’re not! What are you even talking about?”
“Rafe!” She slumps forward, pouting. “I went to his shop in my fuck-me jeans. Don’t judge me,” she adds, shooting me a plaintive glance. “But he didn’t even bite. No ass grab or nothing!”
“Maybe he was tired?” I blurt. “I mean, if you went early… Besides, why do you even want a guy like that? You’re too good for him.” My voice breaks. What does that say about me?
“Yeah, I know.” She sits up, beaming, but her eyebrow arches as she eyes my chest. “What on earth are you wearing?”
I glance down and feel the color drain from my face. What am I wearing? An oversized man’s dark T-shirt with an obscure rock band logo printed on it. “I…um, it’s thrifted. I had a bleach escapade when I did laundry. Most of my stuff is wrecked.”
“That sucks!” She shrugs in sympathy. “Well, I have some stuff for you to have if you want. You can definitely have my fuck-me jeans, for starters. They have failed me for the last time.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.”
While I clear my plate, she dashes off, presumably to the Chan apartment that I assume is above the restaurant. After a few minutes, she returns with a pink duffel that she offers to me with a reverent bow.
“My much-loved but woefully out of season babies,” she says. “May you treat them well.”
She walks me to the doorway. “I plan on aiming for Rafe again tomorrow,” she declares with a wink. “Charge your phone by then. I’ll text you and let you know how it goes.”
“Why do you want to be with him anyway? You said he goes through skanks. He doesn’t seem like the boyfriend type.”
“Duh!” Her eyes widen as she follows me down the block, ensuring we’re out of earshot of her parents. “Bad boy sex is the best kind of sex. No emotions. No strings. And then I get to brood about it for many a novel when I’m a future bestseller. It’s a win, win, baby! Besides, my dad would kill me if I actually dated him.”
“Why?”
She cocks an eyebrow. “He runs in the triad, for one,” she says matter-of-factly. “Well, this city’s version of it, anyway. Not to mention, well… My dad isn’t racist or anything, I swear, but he just has this fantasy of me marrying some rich Chinese businessman due to a promise he made to his mother on her deathbed about never forgetting his roots or something. He’s dramatic.” She rolls her eyes.
“Rafe isn’t Chinese?” I ask, unsure of how else to phrase it.
“Rumor is his dad was, but his mother wasn’t,” she explains. “His dad was pretty infamous around here, from what I’ve heard. He ran things before his brother took over. But he went to prison, though I’m not sure why. Murder, I think.”
“That’s awful.”
“For Rafe, yeah,” she admits, frowning. “Could be why he’s such an ass. Angry, damaged, and sexy as hell. A perfect candidate for bad boy sex.”
“I guess so…”
“Night,” Mara chirps, waving me off. “Hopefully tomorrow will be a very good night for me.”
I leave, still mulling over that unique perspective. In reality, I don’t think I match her enthusiasm. My bout with “bad boy sex” has just left me…
Cold. Tired. Alone.
I can’t tell if I were ever heading to my apartment at all by the time my feet bring me to a different destination—The Paper Crane. I let myself in and head for the storeroom. Mara’s duffel makes a decent pillow, and I curl up behind a box of damaged inventory.
Chapter Sixteen
I wake up feeling more exhausted than if I’d never slept at all. I change into a pink sundress Mara gave me that I can get away with wearing without underwear. Then I run to a nearby corner store and buy deodorant and toothpaste, and then return to the shop to wash up as best as I can in the staff bathroom.
I’ll go home later, when I have the energy to deal with the potential fallout. Later…
Apart from that looming deadline, it might as well be a normal day. I start on the tasks that still need to be done, and Mr. Zhang pops in to tell me that the final arrangements have been made to fix the window by the end of the week. He merrily heads off to the insurance office for the paperwork, and I do what I can to clear the space around the window.
It’s a little after noon when I happen to glance up and spy a woman peering in through the front door. She doesn’t seem to notice the sign still affixed to the front of it. Or she doesn’t care.
Sighing, I step from around the counter and open it. “We’re closed—”
“Hello, Hannah.” She’s tall with short light-brown hair cut bluntly at her chin. A heavy coat sets her apart from the locals dressed in light clothing, as if she’s woefully out of her element in this climate. But her face… I recognize it instantly. Though I’m drawing primarily off someone with similar, younger-looking features. Those bright blue eyes. Golden brown hair.
“Please,” the woman pleads as I lurch for the door handle. “I just want to talk.”
“I’m busy.” I try to close the door, but she blocks it with her hand.
“Please.”
“How did you even know I work here?”
She cuts her gaze away, biting her lip. “After the article on you… I thought I’d put it all behind me. But seeing your name again, I couldn’t.” She sighs and runs a trembling hand through her hair. “So I hired a private detective to help me find you. I just want to ask you one thing, and I need you to look me in the eye when I do.”
I should slam the door in her face. Run. I don’t know why I don’t.
Guilt? Deep down, a part of me knows the truth I don’t want to face. She doesn’t deserve any of this.
“Do you know what happened to her?” she demands. “Do you know what happened to my daughter?” She holds my gaze with an intensity that makes me look down at the pavement.
“No.” I try to close the door again. “Please, go—”
“Wait! When Lexi… She had a bracelet, but they never found it. She wore it everywhere. But seeing as how you were so close with her. Do you know what happened to it?”
“No. I’m sorry, but I don’t.” I step inside the shop and close the door before she can stop me.
“Hannah!” She knocks. “Hannah, please!”
The sound becomes insistent. I slam my hands over my ears, but I still hear her.
“I’ll leave my card. If you remember anything, please. Just call me.”
I don’t move. Just when I think she’s finally gone, the door shudders again.
“Leave me alone!”
“Hannah?” The voice isn’t a woman’s this time.
I whirl around to find Liam on the other end, his expression puzzled.
My hands shake as I wrench the door open and force a grin. “Hey…”
“Hey.” He eyes me warily, his hands in the pockets of a navy jacket. I notice that he’s not wearing his uniform today, swapping it out for a shirt and a pair of jeans. “Your brother seems to be worried about you,” he says. “He wanted me to keep an eye out. Everything okay between you two?”
In some ways, it’s alarming that Branden isn’t here himself and sent a proxy instead. I may avoid him, but he knows I don’t have it in me to shun everyone.
“We’re fine,” I croak.
