At My Worst: A dark Twisted Healing

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 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Please Read
Shout out
1. Bianca
2. Alexander
3. Bianca
4. Alexander
5. Bianca
6. Alexander
7. Bianca
8. Alexander
9. Bianca
10. Alexander
11. Bianca
12. Alexander
13. Bianca
14. Alexander
15. Bianca
16. Alexander
17. Bianca
18. Alexander
19. Bianca
20. Alexander
21. Bianca
22. Alexander
23. Bianca
24. Alexander
25. Bianca
26. Alexander
27. Bianca
28. Alexander
29. Alexander
About The Author
Thank You
 At My Worst
Copyright © 2024 by Sasha R.C.
All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, recording, or
otherwise) without written permission from the publisher or author, except for the use of quotations in a review, and as permitted by U.S. Copyright Law.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by
the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights
is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Formatting/Development/Editor: Melony Staab

Author Assistant/Development/Alpha Reader: Kaylea Fink

Editor: Bri Arbelaez

Illustrator: Bretnie Shepherd
Cover by: The Author Buddy
 AUTHOR NOTE

Hello, My Fellow Readers,

This is a Dark Twisted Healing Romance.
This book dives right in from the start. Some things within this book might trigger and be uncomfortable for some readers.
Please remember that this book does not follow the rules. This book is heavy on smut, which happens very early in these
pages.
Please be ADVISED the connection between the characters is PHYSICAL, which means it is BASED on SEX!!!!!!
This book contains some themes and topics that may be hard for some to handle. Please make sure that you read all the
warnings at the beginning of this book—your mental health matters.
 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS

This is a DARK Twisted Healing Romance.

Sexual scenes include: Breathe and Anal Play. Praise Kink. Exhibitionism. Dominant and Submissive Sexual Behavior.

Please do not use this book as a guide for sexual fantasies.

This book has dark elements and themes, including emotional, psychological, and mental abuse flashbacks in the form of
dreams or daydreams. Other dark themes and elements: Alcohol use, foul language, and gaslighting (in flashbacks not by
MMC).

Very obsessive, possessive, and jealous MMC.

Please remember that all sexual behaviors between the main female character (FMC) and the main male character (MMC) are
consensual, even if it does not look that way.

This is an FM(Female, male) type of romance.

This book is fiction. I want to make it clear. I do not condone anything that happens in this book.

Please use caution. You know yourself best.

It is advised that this book is for mature adults over the age of 18.

Lastly, I wanted to mention that my writing style is different. I do not focus on the outside world from the characters. I write
from their POV, and a lot of what happens is from their perspective and written in their internal monologues. Please be aware
that this is on purpose.

Remember that you are reading about a possessive, controlling, and jealous MMC and an MFC who have been through trauma.
Sometimes, their thoughts will be repetitive and may sound crazy or not make sense.

I do not write perfect characters. I write them as I see them in my head, including how they think, behave, and what they say
internally.

These characters’ love is TABOO, which means that it might not make sense to the reader.

Things happen quickly and in a very short amount of time. This book is based on the sexual connection and desire between the
characters and is not focused on the world around them.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

 SPECIAL DEDICATION

Kay-Author Assistant/Development/Alpha Reader: Where to begin. You have been such an amazing, strong foundation for
me. Thank you for being my North Star and walking side by side with me through this crazy madness called life. I appreciate
you for all the hard work you put into being my AA and taking the time to read my books. Thank you so much for all of your
suggestions. I want you to know that you are appreciated. Thank you for being you.

Mel-Formatting/Development/Editor: Thank you so much for everything that you do. Thank you for going through this crazy
process with me. I appreciate you for all the long hours, hard work, and phone calls and for falling in love with my stories as
much as I have.

My ARC/Street Team: You are all so amazing. Thank you for signing up, promoting, reviewing, and always being willing to
read my crazy stories.

To all my readers: Thank you so much for taking a chance and reading my books and diving into my crazy, dark, smutty
romance world. I appreciate all of you and could not have made my dream a reality without you.

Bretnie Shepherd: Thank you for being you, for staying up until 4 a.m. with me on the phone, listening to my craziness, and
helping me come up with more crazy-ass ideas. Thank you for being my illustrator; you are absolutely amazing. I appreciate
you so much.

Karen Prosser: For being my best friend, my soundboard. Thank you for always being willing to listen to all of my new ideas
for my books, giving me new ideas, and helping me with the character names. I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you
for being you.

Sunflower Downer: For always being there for me, making me laugh, and encouraging me to follow my dreams. Thank you for
believing in me and always being there when I need you.

W.S.: You know who you are. Thank you for being one of my biggest fans. For helping me with cover ideas, book title ideas,
character names, and plots and for keeping me on track. Thank you for encouraging me to continue to follow my dreams.

Jamie Williams: You are so amazing. Thank you for all of your support, for being inspirational, and for believing in me. Thank
you for being my friend.

The Author Buddy: Thank you for the 3-D graphics, all of the new covers, and for going on this crazy ride with me.

Bri Arbelaez: Thank you for all you do. There is so much you do in the background. I appreciate you.
 “The Devil is a Gentleman” by Merci Raines
“@ my worst” by blackbear
“Hurts Like Hell” by Tommee Profitt feat. Fleurie
“Kiss Me Again” by HENRY
“I’m Yours” by Isabel LaRosa
“Darkside” by Neoni
“War Is Love” by Bobi Andonov
“One Mississippi” by Zara Larsson
“Too Far Gone” by Hidden Citizens feat. SVRCINA
“Dynasty” by MIIA
“Paint It, Black” by Ciara
“I See Red” by Everyone Loves An Outlaw
“Rescue” by Lauren Daigle
“Parachute” by Kyndal Inskeep & Song House
“Devil Side” by Foxes
“love me” by Ex Habit
“Infinity” by Jaymes Young
“Guilty” by Bobi Andonov
“Here’s My Heart” by SayWeCanFly
“Dangerous Hands” by Austin Giorgio
“FU In My Head” by Cloudy June
“Power” by Isak Danielson
“Love Me Wrong” by Isak Danielson
“Alkaline” by Sleep Token
“Every Breath You Take” by Chase Holfelder
“The Devil Within” by Digital Daggers
“Take It Out On Me” by Bohnes
“Demons” by Jacob Lee
“The Death Of Peace Of Mind” by Bad Omens
“Be My Queen” by Seafret
“Twisted Love” by Aryia
“If I Showed You” by Henry Verus
“Author” by Jacob Lee
“Beautiful Trauma” by P!nk
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2dYkVDGJt8LiUFTuAxmosp?
si=0wm5uiSJQmGG8x2bVxzs5g&pi=u-8H1W1yruSxWz
 PLEASE READ

Hello Dark Romance Lovers,

Inside these pages, I use the words Fuck and Fucking A LOT. They are, in fact, two of my favorite words. I want to inform
you that the words Fuck, Fucking, and any other lovely cuss words I use are not used for dramatic effect. This is the way me
and my characters talk.
This book gives you an insider view of what it is like to be emotionally, psychologically, and mentally abused by someone
who promised they loved her and how the journey of healing can be twisted, overwhelming, and scary.
This book has flashbacks of abusive situations in the form of flashbacks or daydreams (these are small glimpses of certain
situations).
This book will follow the story of a woman who left her abusive husband in the middle of the night and tried to start over
somewhere new.
Please be advised that this book is heavy on trauma, abuse, and healing. Please keep in mind that the FMC’s way of healing
might appear to be taboo, but that is the way she heals.
Domestic violence is a very real and dangerous thing that many people go through.
If you or someone you know is in a situation like this, please know that you are not alone.
The number below is the hotline number and the chat. There is someone there who will listen and help you.
1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
or
Text “Start” to 88788
 This is for all you Good Girls out there who love a fast, fast, fast burn.
To the Good Girls who have ever felt they needed to change for a man or felt like they were being shamed for their sexual
fantasies.
This is for the Good Girls who love a man who would bring all their sexual desires to life without shame.
This book does not follow the rules.
This book brings taboo to a whole new level.
This book crosses the lines and makes no logical sense, but guess what? Love doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else.
Welcome to the world of Alexander Ortiz, the man that fucks without regret.
The sexy, tattooed, possessive, no-boundaries kind of man.
The man who is not afraid to remind you that you can be his Bad Girl and his Good Girl.

Don’t worry boo boo, it is okay, just turn the page,

Alexander is waiting for you.
 1
Bianca
“FU In My Head” by Cloudy June

M ythought
anxiety has been in overdrive all day long. I haven’t been able to stop pacing or crying. This is so much harder than I
it was going to be. It shouldn’t be this hard to walk away, but I can’t do it anymore after ten years of trying,
begging, and pleading to be loved. Talking doesn’t work. Making promises that things will be different doesn’t work.
Nothing seems to work.
If I stay, I will continue to feel alone, unhappy, and not good enough. I don’t want to live my life like this anymore, even
though I love my husband. I don’t think he loves me, not in the way I do him.
I think he is in love with the idea of me, of us, but when it comes down to it, he isn’t happy. He just won’t admit it to himself
or me.
He told me when we got married that it was for life, and that day, I believed we would be together forever. I never thought I
would be the one to leave, but I didn’t have a choice.
I have to be the one to walk away. I have to be the one to do this for myself because if I don’t, I will remain here in this
loveless, roommate marriage, and slowly, it will kill me.
I take a deep breath as I look at the clock. My husband should be at work by now. He won’t check in. He never does. He is
busy, and I learned not to bother him at work because he gets annoyed.
I guess tonight it is a good thing he is like that. He will have no idea that I have left, not until he gets home, and even after
that, he won’t, not really. He will think I am at work. He won’t know anything until I am supposed to be home. He will wait a
few hours, then call me, and that is when he will find out I left.
The only things I am taking are my books and my clothes. He can keep everything else. I don’t want it.
I grab my last bag from the table and slowly look around the room one last time. My heart is racing so fast as I walk to the
front door, and when I grab the doorknob, I feel the first tear roll down my face.
I feel like an ungrateful bitch, a brat.
I feel like I am going fucking crazy.
I shake my head, swipe the tears from my face, and turn the doorknob. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walk out the door,
locking it behind me and down the steps to my car. I place the last bag in the passenger seat. My hands are trembling as I climb
into the driver’s seat and take one more look at the house that looks so beautiful and perfect on the outside. But on the inside, it
was lonely and empty.
Two people who shared the house and the bills lived in this house, but everything else was separate.
I don’t know when we got to the point where we were perfectly fine with being without the other. But here we are, here I am,
staring at the house I thought I would be happy in, but if I am honest with myself, I haven’t been happy in a long time.
We became good at lying to ourselves, convincing ourselves that we were overreacting or that things weren’t that big of a
deal.
But it is a big deal.
 I inhale deeply as I back out of the driveway. Exhaling, I put the car in drive and head out of the neighborhood, disappearing
into the blackness.
I don’t know where I am going or what I am going to do. All I know is that I need to find a place where I feel alive again and
can find and be myself again.

“Don’t say you are sorry. You always say you are sorry, but then you do it again,” he says disgustingly.
I stand still in front of him, feeling my heart pound against my rib cage. I don’t mean to do things that upset him. It is not
like I do them on purpose, but it doesn’t change the fact that he thinks I do.
“What do you want me to say then?” I finally asked, looking into his angry eyes.
I hate that look that deeming, look down on you I am disappointed look. I hate it.
“Just do what you say you’re going to do,” he says before he turns around, and I watch him leave the kitchen.
I try to do what I say. He takes things to a whole new level and freaks out over small things, things I don’t see as a big
deal.
He says we are fine, but I know we aren’t because of how he acts. So I ask him over and over again until he tells me, and
then he loses his shit.
This is a never-ending cycle, and I don’t have the energy to fight with him today. I am tired and have a lot to do. The best
thing for the both of us right now is to be apart until we both calm down.
I slowly open my eyes and wipe the tears away. I hate that I cry so much. I seem to cry about everything lately, but maybe it
is just my mind trying to understand what is happening because I have no idea.
I turn and look out my window. I can hear and see the ocean waves lapping at the shoreline. I have no idea what time I pulled
over, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.
I slowly sit up straight and grab the steering wheel. I watch as the sun comes up over the waves. It is a breathtaking sight. I
can’t tell you how long it has been since I have seen the ocean or smelt the salty air, but it is refreshing.
I look down at my phone. There are no new messages or missed calls. I grab my phone and wallet and get out of the car.
I look up when I hear squawking above me and tightly wrap my arms around myself. Looking to my right, I see a tavern
painted on the side of the building in big blue and white letters; it says, “The Rocky Shore Tavern,” which is fitting for an
ocean town. The parking lot is filled with cars, which I hope means they have good food. When I pulled in here last night or
this morning, whatever you want to call it, the parking lot was dark, and no one was here.
How long had I been asleep?
I look back down at my phone and see that it’s just after seven in the morning, so not long enough, I can tell you that.
I take a deep breath as my stomach makes a loud and annoying sound.
I look back at the waves and take another deep breath, letting the salty air fill my lungs as I close my eyes. I don’t think I
have any tears left, at least not right now.
My body is sore and beyond tired, but I need food. I have no idea what town I am in, but I know I am now in Washington.
I can take a little time and get something to eat, and then I will get back on the road and see where it takes me. The farther I
get from my old life, the better.
 2
Alexander
“The Death Of Peace Of Mind” by Bad Omens

I can hear people out in the restaurant laughing and talking. There was a line at the door this morning, which is a good thing.
We need the money to keep this place open.
Last I checked on Pops, he was passed out on the couch at home, and from what I can tell, he downed a whole bottle last
night. It is easier to stay here at the tavern, so I don’t have to deal with that mess right now. I have too many things that need to
be taken care of. My pops can wait. He will be fine. He will sleep it off and come stumbling in tonight when he knows it is
happy hour.
“Xander,” I hear someone yell at the door. I would know that voice anywhere. Josh. He pulls me from my imploding,
depressing thoughts, just like he always has.
“What?” I yell back.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he says at my side.
“It is way too early for you to be this happy,” I say calmly as I watch the eggs.
“It is called sleep, man. You should try it,” he says jokingly. I can feel his eyes on me.
I smile and shake my head; crazy ass, dude. “Get your ass out there and bus some tables for me.” I point out to the crowded
restaurant.
“Yes, Sir,” Josh says as he smiles and walks out the swinging doors.
I fill four plates with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and sides of gravy, put it on the counter under the heat lamps, and ring the bell.
“Coming,” Josh says with amusement.
Josh stops in front of the opening and grabs all four plates. I stand still, staring at him. He nods and gives me a wink.
Stupid. I laugh, shake my head, and move on to the next set of plates. I hear the bell ring over the door.
“Joshy,” I scream.
He doesn’t answer as I load up the next set of plates, put them on the counter, and push open the swinging door. I grab my
order pad and stop in front of the bar, ready to take the newcomer’s order, but when I look up, my heart fucking stops.
A pair of brown eyes locked with mine for a moment, and then she quickly looked away. She sits down at the end of the bar,
setting down her phone and wallet.
“Who the fuck is that?” Josh asks in my ear.
I push him away and motion for him to take the other plates.
I slowly make my way over to the woman. She looks down at her phone, then sets it down and grabs the menu. I stop in front
of her. Her long black hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and the black glasses she is wearing make her brown eyes pop even
more. I quickly look her over. She is wearing a black sweatshirt and joggers.
“Can I get you some coffee?” I ask her softly.
She looks up from the menu and nods. “Thank you,” she says softly as she looks back down at the menu.
Most people want to sit in the restaurant part, but some like the bar. I don’t start serving alcohol until ten, but some will stay
eat and wait for the time to come.
I turn around, grab a mug, and quickly pour a cup as I look over at Josh. He is leaning on the table, watching me. He smiles at
me and nods. He has always been a goofball, the life of the party. He is also my best friend and the only one who really knows
me and my life. I don’t trust many, but he has earned it.
I turn back around with the cup of coffee and make my way back over to the girl. She has set down the menu and is sitting
back in her seat, looking over the different bottles of booze.
I set the coffee in front of her, bringing her attention back to me. “Do you know what you want?” I ask, watching her closely. I
have never seen her face before.
“Pancakes and scrambled eggs, please,” she responds, keeping her eyes on me.
I nod and turn back around. Josh is still staring at me, making me shake my head. I push open the swinging doors and walk
back.
One set of pancakes and eggs coming up.

The music continues to play as I pour a few more drinks and set them in front of the two people sitting at the bar.
I look over at Josh, and he is talking to another girl. I don’t know which one this is, and I have honestly lost count. I look
over in the corner booth where Pops has been for hours, and it looks like he’s already passed out.
I take a deep breath and shake my head as I scan over the people and stop on the girl in the corner, the same girl from this
morning.
She is in the corner by herself. Her hair is still up in a bun, but she has changed her clothes. She is wearing a black tank top,
showing off the ink that covers her arms and chest.
I stand straight and slowly leave behind the bar, keeping my eyes on her as she stumbles towards the bathroom. I move
through the crowd of people and find her leaning against the wall in the hallway halfway to the bathroom.
I rest my hand on the wall beside her head. She is looking down at her phone. “Are you okay?’ I ask softly.
She quickly turns and looks at me. She stumbles back a little, but I grab her arm, pulling her to me to keep her from falling.
“Yes,” she says as I release her arm. She puts her phone into her back pocket, and her eyes stay on me.
She is drunk. “You sure?” I ask, looking over her face. She is beyond trashed.
She nods. “Yes, Sir,” she says, and my heart races a little with her moniker.
“What is your name?” I ask, tilting my head to get a better view of her.
She shakes her head. “No, we aren’t doing that.”
“Doing what?” I ask, a little confused.
“Names,” she slurs.
“Okay.”
“I’m gonna go,” she says as she pushes off the wall and walks around me. I turn slightly, watching her stumble through the
crowd towards the exit.
Fuck me.
I turn and follow behind her, pushing through the people.
I stop for a moment next to Josh. “Watch the bar.”
“I got you,” he says with amusement as the girl whispers something into his ear.
I continue to follow behind the woman. She pushes open the doors and walks outside. She stopped momentarily and then
continued walking, stumbling down the two steps and into the parking lot.
I follow closely behind her as she stops at a car and pulls out her keys.
I reach around her and take the keys from her. She turns and looks up at me. “Hey, those are mine.”
“No shit, you aren’t driving, though,” I say, watching her closely.
Her eyes narrow on me. “I am not. I need them to get in my car.”
“No driving,” I say calmly.
She reaches up to grab them, but I put them just out of reach.
“What is your name?” I ask again.
She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, sassy little thing.
I lower my arm and put her keys into my pocket. She walks into me, lowering her arms, now chest to chest, and I can feel her
racing heartbeat. She tilts her head to the side, her eyes rapidly searching mine. She smells so fucking good. I feel my cock
twitch against the front of my jeans.
“I’m not letting you leave while you are drunk,” I tell her. There is no way in fuck. She is drunk, and driving is a bad idea. I
don’t know this girl, but I don’t want to hear about it on the news that she got in a wreck.
She doesn’t respond at first, but then what comes out of her mouth shocks the fuck out of me.
“Ever wanted to fuck a stranger?” She asks in a low voice.
Yeah, she is drunk.
I shake my head as a smile forms across her lips.
“Want to?” She asks in a low, desired voice.
Fuck. What the fuck is happening right now?
“You’re drunk. This is not a good idea,” I try and dissuade her. I am not against fucking strangers, but I am against them not
being able to remember me or my cock when they wake up.
“Yes, I am drunk, and yes, I won’t remember tomorrow, but isn’t that the point?” She slurs.
Her question is interesting and confusing. She shrugs and starts to turn, but the urge to touch her becomes overwhelming.
“Fuck it,” I say through gritted teeth.
I reach out and grab her by the throat, pulling her firmly against my chest. I lean down and smash my lips to hers. She moans
and opens her mouth, and my tongue enters, her tongue dancing with mine. I can taste the booze on her tongue as I reach down
and dig my fingertips into her leg, slowly moving up. I pull back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes are open and on me, as I push her
against the side of her car.
I pull up her skirt and move aside her underwear. I run my fingers through her folds, and her head falls against the car. I pull
my hand away from her wet pussy and unbutton and unzip my pants. She swats my hands out of the way and pushes my pants
and boxers down enough to free my aching cock. I grab her left leg and pin it against my hip as I reach between us and grab
onto my dick. I hate having sex standing up, but right now, I just want to be balls deep inside this woman I know nothing about.
She is like a drug. You get one taste, and you are already hooked and wanting more.
I place the tip of my cock at her entrance and look over her face one more time. She grabs my shirt and pulls me into her as I
push my cock into her tight pussy. Her walls wrap tightly around my cock, taking my breath away as I place my hand against her
car and tighten my grip on her throat.
I lean in, my lips almost touching hers. “You are a bad fucking girl.”
She doesn’t respond as I start to push in and out of her. She wraps her leg tightly around me, or at least as much as she can,
from this fucking weird-ass position.
“Bad girls get punished,” I whisper as I smash my lips to hers.
She moans and opens her mouth once again as I continue to move in and out of her. This is so fucking wrong. She is drunk,
and I’m sober. I will remember, but she won’t. But how the fuck could I have just let her go? No sane man would have.
My balls begin to tighten as I pick up my pace. She screams into my mouth as I feel her pussy tighten around me as she comes
on my cock. I groan into her mouth, shut my eyes, and slam into her one last time as I shoot my load deep into her pussy.
Fuck me.
I pull back, breaking the kiss. Her head falls back against the car as I loosen my grip on her throat.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath.
She laughs as I pull out of her and release my hold on her completely. She lowers her leg to the ground and pulls her skirt
back into place.
I pull up my pants and boxers and look at her. “Where are you staying?” I ask her calmly.
She doesn’t answer, which honestly drives me nuts. “Please,” I say calmly.
She motions at her car. It is dark, but I can tell the car is filled with stuff. Yeah, not going to fucking happen.
“You can stay with me,” I tell her. There is no way in fuck I am letting this woman stay in her car.
She shakes her head. “No thanks.”
Sassy and stubborn, fuck me.
“I’m not going to let you sleep in your fucking car,” I say, feeling my heart race.
“We just fucked, it’s no big deal. I’m good,” she says, shrugging.
I can’t tell if she really believes that or not. She is drunk, distant, and guarded. I understand.
I stare at her for a moment before I walk into her and smash my lips to hers for just one more fucking taste.
I pull back and look at her. “You are staying with me,” I all but demand in a low voice.
She nods but doesn’t say a word. It’s progress, at least.
 3
Bianca

“Too Far Gone” by Hidden Citizens feat. SVRCINA

“A re Heyouturns
mad at me?” I ask him softly.
and looks at me and shakes his head. He says he is not, but the vibes I am getting tell me differently.
“Do you have to hear the words, Bianca? Can’t you just trust that I love you?” He says in an annoyed voice.
“I need validation,” I whisper back, feeling the tears build in my eyes.
“You know it drives me crazy. I am not mad at you, but if you keep asking, I will be. Is that what you want?” He asks.
“No,” I say, trying to keep the tears back.
“Then trust the words that come out of my mouth,” he says calmly, but I can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t want to talk
to me.
I take a deep breath as he sits back on the couch and picks up his phone.
I know it drives him crazy that I need validation, but he knew this about me before we got married.
He makes me feel stupid and dumb. He makes me feel like I am going crazy.
Ugh, my head. I roll over onto my back and wipe the tears from my face. The dreams just keep coming on a never-ending
loop going through the last ten years of my life. I ran to get away from them, but now I see that it is impossible when my mind
won’t let me forget and escape my past.
My heart stopped as I went through what had happened. I opened my eyes and quickly sat up.
“Ouch,” I say as I rub the side of my temple.
My vision starts to clear. The sun is shining through the window, and I can hear the waves crashing.
What the fuck happened?
I lean back against the bed frame and slowly look around the room I woke up in. It is older wood, and pictures of the ocean
cover the walls. When I look to the side of the bed, I find two pills and some juice.
I lean over and grab them, popping them in my mouth as I take a big drink of the juice.
“You are awake,” I hear a man say.
I quickly turn and look at the man standing next to the bed.
He is about six feet tall, with light brown hair long enough to slick back. His eyes are deep green, and his neck and arms are
covered in ink. He is wearing a tight black v-neck t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and boots.
I look over him a few times before I look into his eyes again. He slowly takes a seat on the edge of the bed facing me.
I lean over and set down the juice. “Where am I?” I ask, feeling my chest tighten.
I usually am not the kind of woman to go into a bar and blackout, but I have a feeling there are a lot of things I have never
done that I probably will start doing. I thought the booze would drown out the voices in my head, but it didn’t. I should have
known better. Wishful thinking, I know.
 “The tavern,” he answers calmly.
I don’t hear any rage, anger, or irritation. I can only hear the concern in his tone for someone he doesn’t even know.
“Shit, what time is it?” I ask, panicking.
“Noon.”
“Fuck” I say, resting my head on the wall and closing my eyes.
“Do you remember last night?” He asks, getting my attention again.
“Nope, but that was the point,” I say with amusement.
I open my eyes and turn my head, locking eyes with the stranger again.
“Why, what did I do?” I ask, seeing the concern in his eyes.
He tilts his head to the side, causing some brown hair to cover his eyes partially.
“Well, we fucked,” he says, watching me closely.
“Oh shit,” I say as I lower my head and run my hands over my face.
“You, okay?” He asks in a concerned voice.
I let out a small laugh and lowered my hands. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say, laughing again.
“What is so funny?”
“Well, fucking a stranger has always been a fantasy of mine. I just never thought I would actually do it,” I say, looking at the
stranger. He is gorgeous and mysterious and has brought one of my fantasies to life.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed, I don’t fuck random people, but now I can’t say that anymore can I?
“Hmmm,” he says softly.
“I think I should go,” I say as I push down the blanket and turn, planting my feet on the ground.
I slip my feet into my flip-flops and stand up. My head throbs, and my vision gets fuzzy. I run my hands over my face again
and take a deep breath, and that is when I feel it. His warm, gentle, yet rough hands holding my arms.
I look up and see him looking at me with concern. His warmth starts spreading across my skin, making my heart race from the
physical touch.
“Eat something first. You don’t look too good,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I say in a defeated voice.
I don’t feel good, but I need to keep going. I don’t know where, but I know I have to keep moving, but eating something won’t
hurt.
“Pancakes and scrambled eggs, with coffee,” he says.
I nod. It is normal, I guess, for him to remember my order from yesterday, but at the same time, his remembering warms me in
a way I can’t put into words just yet.
He releases his hold on me, taking the warmth with him, causing my stomach to twist into knots. He turns, and I slowly
follow him around the bed and out of the room down a narrow hallway. He walks into the bar area and pulls out the chair I sat
in yesterday.
I sit and watch him grab a few things, and then he walks through the swinging doors. I can hear him moving around as I sit
back in my seat.
The bar is empty which is weird for it being noon.
The man comes through the swinging doors with a plate, stops at the counter, and pours coffee into the cup. He turns and
locks eyes with me as he places the plate and cup of coffee in front of me. He rests his hands on the counter and watches me as
I lean forward and grab the fork.
“So you going to tell me your name?” He asks softly.
“What?”
“You wouldn’t tell me your name last night,” he says with a curious look.
A small laugh leaves me as I sit back in the seat. “Bianca, my name is Bianca.”
“Nice to meet you, Bianca. I am Alexander,” he says calmly.
“Is this your bar?” I ask, looking around.
He nods. “It is the family business, but yes, I run it.”
I pick up the cup and slowly blow on it as I keep my eyes on Alexander. He moves back and leans against the counter,
crossing his arms over his chest.
“You just passing through?” He asks, breaking the little bit of silence.
I nod. “I think so. I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know where I am going or what I am doing,” I confess to him.
“Hmmm,” he says more to himself than to me. “Well, you can always stay here. Port Angeles is a small town, but it is good
and quiet,” he confidently says.
“Maybe I will, not sure yet. I should have already got back on the road, but I chose to get drunk and fuck a stranger instead,”
I say with amusement.
He laughs and shakes his head. He has a beautiful smile, and his laugh is like fresh air to me.
“There is a house for rent down the street,” he says, catching me a little off guard.
“Really?”
He nods. “Yes, I can call my friend if you want.”
I sit back and turn, looking out the window at the waves. I wasn’t planning on staying here, but I have no reason not to. This
place is gorgeous and peaceful. Maybe staying here for a little bit before moving on wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I turn and
look at Alexander and nod.
I take a sip of my coffee, watch him smile, and grab his phone from his pocket.
I don’t know if I will stay long, but getting a therapist job should be easy enough, or at least I am hoping it is, and I can start
writing wherever. Maybe taking a few weeks to figure out a solid plan before I move on is the smart thing.
“Are you okay with a week-by-week agreement?” He asks, looking up from his phone.
“Yes, that would be great,” I respond, watching him.
He nods and sends a text. I shouldn’t be looking at him like this or at all, really, but damn, he is sexy as fuck.
“He can come by with the keys in a few hours,” Alexander confirms.
“Wow, that was fast,” I say with amusement and surprise.
Alexander puts his phone in his pocket and leans over, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I know a lot of people. It is not a
problem.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” Alexander says, pushing off the counter and returning to the kitchen.
I lean forward and start picking apart the breakfast in front of me. I know I should look at my phone, but I am not ready yet. I
don’t know if I will ever be ready if I am being honest with myself. But I will have to face the music sometime.

Alexander and I followed his friend down the sidewalk. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was down the street, three
houses, to be exact.
Josh introduced himself and showed me the house. It is a small one-bedroom, one-bath, right on the beach. Now that it is just
me, I don’t need much room.
“If you need anything, I live two houses down that way,” Josh says with a smile as he hands me the keys and points down
toward the direction of his house.
“Thank you again.”
He nods and walks down the three steps to the sidewalk. I make my way onto the deck and lean forward, resting my forearms
on the railing as I look out at the ocean. I have always wanted to live in a small town on the beach, but it has never been
something I could have done.
I take a deep breath as Alexander comes to my side, leaning against the railing. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks
at the waves with me.
“I’m glad you are staying,” he says softly.
I look at him, and at the same time, he turns and looks at me.
His eyes are so green. They are breathtaking. “Me too,” I say softly.
He makes me nervous. All of this makes me nervous, but having a place to figure shit out is probably the best thing.
“I will be at the tavern if you need me,” he offers.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, Bianca,” he says, pushing off the railing. He gently touches my lower back as he walks by, taking his salty
smell with him.
I am in so much trouble.
 4
Alexander
“Here’s My Heart” by SayWeCanFly

I walk behind the last few people who are exiting the bar. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed she didn’t show up
tonight, but she probably had a bad hangover from last night. She was looking pretty rough when we parted ways. I watched
her for a bit while she unpacked the stuff from her car.
She had no furniture, no TV, nothing but clothes and a few boxes. I have no idea what was in them, and when I asked if she
wanted me to stay and help, she said no.
She is a sassy little shit. I can’t fucking figure her out. She is different in the daylight than how she was at my bar, but then
again, she was drunk. I don’t know, but she confuses and intrigues me and also drives me up the wall with her little attitude.
She is guarded, but she doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her. I see how she reacts whenever I touch her, and I know her
body. I know some of the words that turn her on, and I know how she looks when she comes. I might not know the other shit, but
right now, the physical things I have seen and done with her are taking me over and driving me bat-shit crazy.
She is seriously like a fucking drug. I have had one-night stands before, but she is different. I don’t know how or why, but she
just is.
I lock the front doors and make my way to the side door. I see her walking down the beach, holding a flashlight in one hand
and what looks like a book or something in the other.
It’s four in the morning, and everyone, including her, should be asleep.
My heart races as I push open the side door and walk out on the deck. She is making her way to the small dock that is
between our houses.
I pull my sleeves up to my elbows as I head down the pathway to the beach. It is dark as fuck out here, but the little lights
along the path allow me to see a little bit. I watch her closely as she continues to hold the flashlight and what I am pretty sure is
a book now. She walks to the edge of the dock and sits down with her feet hanging over the edge as I step onto the dock.
Her head is down as she starts to sing a song I don’t know, and her head rocks a little as she keeps the flashlight on the book.
I come up behind her and stop, looking down at the book in her hands. She continued singing along to another song, unaware
I was there. I lean down and gently tap her shoulder.
“Holy fuck” she hollers as she quickly turns around and she pulls the earbud from her ear. “What are you doing?” she asks,
staring at me.
“I was about to ask you the same question,” I reply softly.
“Reading, you?” She asks in a curious voice.
“Following you,” I say without fucking thinking. Way to go, stupid, fuck!
“That’s not stalker behavior at all,” she says as she closes her book and takes out her other earbud.
I chuckle and shake my head as I unzip my boots, remove them with my socks, and take a seat on the edge of the dock next to
her. She keeps the flashlight pointing down at the book.
“What are you reading?” I ask, looking from the book to her.
 Her hair is in a messy bun again, and she is wearing a different sweatshirt and joggers.
“Den of Vipers,” she says, watching me.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a Dark Romance,” she explains.
“A what?” I ask, looking into her eyes.
“Ummm, a romance with dark elements in it.”
“Hmmmm,” I say softly as she continues to look at me.
“You make it a point to go for walks reading a book in the dark,” I ask, wanting to know more about her.
“Not really, but I like the sound of the waves, and the house is great, but-” She stops and takes a deep breath.
“But?” Fuck! She is like fucking crack.
I need to know what the fuck she was going to say. Give me something, baby, give me anything. Fuck.
“Lonely,” she says softly.
She places the flashlight on her book, picks up her phone, and looks down at it. I can’t see much, but I can see there are
unread messages and phone calls.
“Someone is missing you,” I assess.
She shakes her head. “No, just the idea of me,” she says as she throws her phone into the ocean.
I can hear the pain in her voice, the walls around her trying to keep me out. A normal man would just leave it alone and walk
away, but I am not a normal man. I fucking push boundaries, put my nose where it doesn’t belong, and I always seem to get in
fucking trouble with women.
The fuck?
“What does that mean?” I whisper.
She turns and looks at me, “You ask a lot of questions, Sir,” she says in an amused but guarded voice.
Fuck I don’t know what it is about her calling me that, but fuck, it does something strange to me. She grabs the flashlight and
the book and stands up. I do the same, feeling my heart race with the idea of her walking away.
“It was nice seeing you again, Alexander,” she says as she turns and begins to walk away, but I can’t, I fucking can’t take it. I
reach out and grab her arm, pulling her to me.
She looks up at me. “What are you doing?” She asks me, searching my eyes.
I tilt my head to the side and study her for a moment, that is a good fucking question, and the truth is I have no idea.
A smirk forms across my lips. “Ever wanted to fuck a stranger on a dock?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You are crazy,” she says with a smile, eyes on me.
“Hmmmm.”
Maybe this is my way in. She started this game, whatever it is. If we are bringing fantasies to life together, why not pick this
one?
I have always wanted to fuck someone early in the morning on a dock as the waves were crashing around us. Don’t ask me
why, but it has been on my fantasy list, and I have never found someone I wanted to do it with. Now this beautiful fucking
stranger in front of me has taken me over, has fucking made me crave her as I have never craved another woman before. If she
can do this by just being sassy and fucking me in a parking lot, I can only imagine what it would feel like to be loved by her.
“A fantasy of yours?” She asks me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
I grab the flashlight and book from her hands and lean down, placing them on the dock. I stand up, walk into her, and grab her
by the throat, pulling her into me.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she whispers.
“Agreed,” I whisper back.
“I am not ready for anything serious,” she says softly.
“I do not want anything serious, but I do want you,” I reply.
“Physical, that is all,” she says, searching my eyes.
I nod. “That is all,” I say, leaning in, my lips almost touching hers.
She slowly nods, and I press my lips to hers. Her body melts against mine as I reach between us and unbutton and unzip my
pants. She grabs the top of her sweatpants and pushes them down with her underwear. We break away for a moment, both
removing our bottoms.
I grab onto her throat again and begin to lower down onto my knees. She gets on top of me, resting her knees on the dock. She
lifts a little, just enough for me to grab my cock and place the head at her entrance.
“Only physical, Alexander,” she reiterates.
“Only physical, Bianca,” I reply as she sinks down on my cock.
I smash my lips back onto hers, and she opens for me, allowing my tongue to enter. A growl escapes me as she grabs my
shoulder with one hand and places her hand on my chest with her other, and begins to move up and down on my cock. She
moans as her pussy wraps tightly around my cock.
Fuck she is intoxicating.
I pull back, break the kiss, and grab onto her hips as she continues to ride my cock. She is so fucking beautiful. I lean in,
kissing her neck, and she rolls her hips as she continues to ride my cock. The way her pussy is fluttering around me tells me she
is almost there. My balls start to tighten as she continues to take what she needs from me, making my eyes roll into the back of
my head. I bite down on her neck as she screams my name, her pussy locks so tight around me she pulls me over the edge with
her.
She continues to slowly ride my cock, until we both have started to come down. She sits up with me still inside her and
looks down at me.
“You are such a bad girl,” I whisper. The taste of sweat and blood lingers on my lips and tongue.
Our rapid breathing mixes with the sound of the waves. I sit up, holding her against me as I rest my forehead against her
neck. Her heart is beating fast as we both try to catch our breath. I pull back and look over her face.
Her eyes meet mine. “Fuck, where did you come from?” I ask softly.
She doesn’t respond, but I can see the desire and lust in her eyes. I tighten my grip on her hips, lift her off of my cock, and
then force us both to stand up. We both lean down, grabbing our underwear and pants. She doesn’t say anything to me as we
both get dressed.
I grab the flashlight and book from the dock and gently hand them to her. She grabs them, pinning them to her chest. She opens
her mouth to say something, but instead, she looks at me for another second, then turns around and begins making her way up the
dock towards her house.
Mystery that is what she is, a mystery, a puzzle I want to put back together. But I have a feeling she isn’t going to let me, not
yet.
Physical, I can do that. I have always been good at the physical, but something inside me tells me physical is not what I want
from her.
Fuck. I run my hands through my hair as I watch her disappear into the blackness of the night.
 5
Bianca
1ST WEEK IN P ORT ANGELES

“Demons” by Jacob Lee

T hearefirst week here has been nothing but a blur. I got a new phone and texted my friends, letting them know I was okay. They
worried about me, and I don’t blame them. They wanted to know where I was, and I told them because I couldn’t keep
anything from them. They have the right to know.
I worry about him finding out, but honestly, I don’t think he would come here. He always said he could adapt to any situation,
and I am afraid that is the same for me leaving in the middle of the night. I know he is angry, but I also know he is a proud man.
He will stay at the house and deal with his emotions, like always, by not showing them at all.
I take a deep breath as I sit back in the chair and look over the ads for a therapist. Luckily, there are plenty of remote jobs I
am qualified for. I have already applied for five of them. Now, I just have to wait to see if I get any calls back.
I switch to the other blank screen in Word and start typing what I have kept inside for years. I don’t know if I will ever
actually publish what I am about to write, but I think it is time to tell my story and show people that there is another side of
domestic violence that sometimes people forget about.
My husband was not physically abusive. It was all mental, emotional, and psychological, but to me, it has been more hurtful
in aspects than had it been just bruises and broken bones. I have been in those situations as well. The bruises fade, and the
bones heal, but the internal wounds remain unseen and can fester into wounds that never heal. They end up being deep scars
forever to remind us of what we have lived through.
I tell my clients all the time to write down their feelings. I think it is time I took my own advice, even if it is just for me.
I have gone out on the town several times, but not enough to know where everything is. I really need to get food, more coffee,
and energy drinks, which means I need to go out in public and be an adult.
Fuck me.
I sit back in the chair and reread the words I have written. I haven’t written as much as I wanted to, but it will have to do for
now. Maybe going out and getting some fresh air will do me good.
I stand up and stretch, slip on my flip-flops, grab my book, and slide it into my bag. Fortunately, everything in this town is
within walking distance of my house. It will give me more time to read and escape myself. I slowly make my way to the door
and grab the door handle, taking a deep breath.
“Everything I do is for you. I work my ass off for you so we can have nice things,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I know, I know you do,” I reply, trying to keep him calm.
“Then why do you act ungrateful?” He asks in that tone. The tone that tells me he is annoyed and not happy with me. It
is a tone I have become accustomed to hearing from him for a while now.
“I don’t,” I respond quietly.
“You do. It seems like nothing I do is good enough for you. What do you want from me, Bianca?” He asks—his voice
stern.
 I stay silent because I know that nothing I say at this moment will make this any better, so I say the only thing I can. “I’m
sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just listen to me. I don’t just tell you things to tell you things. I am trying to protect you,” he states as he
sits on the couch and once again grabs his phone.
I sit back and feel the tears slowly start to fall from my eyes and roll down my face. He doesn’t look at me again, so I turn
my face and pretend to watch the show he put on for us to watch.
I go over his words in my head; maybe he is right. Maybe I am acting ungrateful. I don’t mean to. I just want…I don’t
know what I want: us to stop fighting and for us to be on the same page. But we have been on different pages for a long
time.
I open my eyes and quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks as I turn the doorknob and walk outside, closing the door behind
me. I walk down the few steps onto the sidewalk and head towards the main grocery store. I open my book and hope I can
escape. I really need to escape.

I make my way down this last aisle. I can’t tell you how many times I have walked up and down these aisles. I hate shopping
when I am hungry, but everything looks good, and I want everything.
I stand in front of the frozen pizza section until I find what I am looking for. I open the door and grab three frozen cheese
pizzas. I close the door and quickly walk past all the other shit that I want but don’t want. Fuck, I am a mess.
I approach the first open register and begin to unload my basket. I watch as the nice lady scans everything and slowly hands
me each item so I can put it in my bag. She gives me my total as I put the third energy drink into my bag and hand the woman my
money.
She smiles and hands me my change. “I hope you have a good day,” she says softly.
“Thank you. I hope you do as well,” I reply with a smile I know doesn’t quite reach my eyes, but I am trying.
When I walk out of the front doors, I open my bag and grab my book. I look up and see Alexander leaning against his truck,
talking to a woman. She is blonde, taller than me, wearing heels and a dress.
I tighten my grip on my book as I watch them. From the looks of his stiff body and the scowl on his face, he is annoyed by
her, but from her body language, she is not getting it. She lifts her hand and places it on his chest, in the same spot my hand was
about a week ago when we fucked on the dock. My heart races as he grabs her wrist and forces her to remove her hand. She
laughs and shakes her head, smacking him on the chest.
I don’t get it, but whatever.
She turns and walks away from him. He watches her until she gets to her car, then turns to the driver’s door, and that’s when
our eyes connect. I look down, needing to break the eye contact. Even from this far away, his eyes are intense. Everything about
this stranger is intense.
I take a deep breath as I look up and turn toward the sidewalk that will lead me back to my rental house. I hear him call out
my name, but stopping is probably not the best idea, so I keep walking. I run across the street, picking up my pace. I keep my
eyes forward as I count the houses as I pass them. After I can cross the street, there are only seven houses until I reach mine.
I’m stuck waiting for the stupid ass little person’s green light to turn on when a truck pulls in front of me, blocking my view
of the walking green person. I look into the truck and see Alexander. His eyes are on me as I hear the beeping starting to go off.
I walk in front of his vehicle and cross the street without acknowledging him. I hear the truck door open and footsteps behind
me. He grabs my arm, stopping me as I reach the other side.
“Bianca,” he says, trying to get me to look at him. My heart is racing to hear him say my name at all.
I turn and look at him. His eyes are searching mine. I see worry in his eyes and something else, something that probably
shouldn’t be there.
“She was my ex,” he confesses.
“What?” I ask, but I know what he is talking about.
It is none of your business, Bianca, none of your business. Stay in your own lane. You are not staying here long.
“The woman you saw is my ex,” he explains, trying to reassure me.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I tell him, hearing my voice crack at the end.
“I know I don’t, but I want to,” he says as he searches my eyes. His scent consumes me, his eyes paralyze me, and whenever
he touches me, all I want to do is melt into him. He is a walking red flag. All the signs are there, but for the life of me, no
matter what I fucking tell myself, I am still drawn to him, like a bee to fucking honey.
“Alexander, it is fine. It’s all good,” I say, shrugging. I don’t know what else to say or do right now.
He stands still for a moment, then releases my arm. “Do you want a ride?” He asks calmly, but his breathing is still unsteady.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”
“Why do you do that?” He asks.
“What?”
He waves his hand up and down me. “What?” I ask again.
“What you are doing right now?” He says, looking me over again.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I confess to him.
He doesn’t respond, just stares with his really intense, fucking gorgeous green eyes. “What am I doing, Alexander?” I ask.
He still doesn’t say anything. I take a deep breath. “It is none of my business who you are talking to,” I explain, shrugging my
shoulders.
He tilts his head to the side. He has done this the last few times I have seen him, and fuck, each time he does, he looks sexy
as fuck. His hair falls into his face, like off of a fucking romance movie.
He sighs as I step forward, putting some distance between us. “Have a good day, Alexander,” I say as I turn and continue
toward my house.
“Fuck!” I hear him yell as he slams his truck door.
Okay, maybe I am being a little complicated, but we are not together. We are strangers, and soon I will be moving on.
Keeping emotions out of it is the best thing, plus it shouldn’t matter what woman he is talking to. It is not my business.
 6
Alexander
“Twisted Love” by Aryia

music is blaring, and everyone is laughing and drinking, and all I can think about is what she said. ‘It is none of my
T hebusiness.’
The fuck it ain’t.
“You okay, Alex?” Josh asks, walking over to my side as I pour another drink for one of the customers.
“Yes.”
“You are a bad liar, man,” he says.
“Drop it, Josh,” I say as I turn and look at him.
“Okay, I am dropping it,” he says, putting his hands up and making me smile.
I place the drink on the counter, watch the woman take it, and follow her man. I turn when the front doors open, and my heart
stops for a moment when Bianca walks in. Her hair is down and curled, which I haven’t seen her do yet. She is wearing a pair
of black leggings and a tank top, her black glasses once again making her whole face pop, especially her eyes.
She makes her way towards the bar and stops in front of me, leaning forward, her eyes locked with mine. “I am sorry for
earlier,” she says loud enough so that I can hear over the noisy bar.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” I say, looking into her eyes.
“Want to have a drink with me?” She asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t right now. Maybe later.”
I see the disappointment in her eyes, but she nods.
“What are you having?” I ask her.
“Vodka soda, please.”
I quickly make her drink and place it in front of her. She handed me a ten and then walked off into the crowd.
Mother fuck man.
I take a deep breath and look over at Josh, who is talking to another girl. Shaking my head, I turned around and started
wiping down the back counter, doing everything I could to keep from turning around and watching Bianca.
I don’t know what the hell this push-and-pull thing is, but if she is trying to drive me insane and up the wall, she is
succeeding. I do not play games, but it has always been me who has been played. This new game she and I have going is
different than when my exes cheated on me or played with my emotions. Bianca has been upfront from the start. She doesn’t
want anything more than physical, and I want to be that for her, but I am afraid my emotions are starting to get in the way.
 Fuck.
I look at the clock. It is midnight, and the tavern is filled with people, drunk ass people.
I lean against the counter and look out at the crowd. My eyes find Bianca in the corner, drinking her third vodka soda. She
hasn’t danced or talked with anyone and seems to be just fine being by herself.
Josh is out on the dance floor, grinding against a different girl than he was talking to earlier in the night. He has always been
a player, but deep down, he is a good man. He just doesn’t let people see it very often.
I look back in the corner where Bianca was just drinking by herself, but she is no longer there. Nope, some motherfucker has
asked her to dance, and she said yes. I keep my eyes on her as they move through the crowd, stopping a few feet from the
corner. He grabs her hips and starts to move with the music. She allows him to lead as she sways her hips with the music. I can
see that she is drunk, which means that motherfucker knows it too.
I place my hands on the counter as I watch her closely, getting lost in how her body moves. The way her head falls back
against his shoulder as she starts to let go. Fuck, I wish I was that guy right now.
It shouldn’t bother me seeing her with another man. She isn’t mine, but fuck, seeing him touch her and whisper shit into her
ear is causing my blood to boil in a way I have never felt before. It feels like someone has gut-punched me, making it hard to
breathe.
She turns around, facing him, and places her hands on his chest. He leans down, and she whispers something into his ear. She
quickly pulls back, lowers her hands as she turns, and makes her way towards the bathrooms and back door.
Fuck. This.
I walk up to Josh, pat him on his shoulder, and nod towards the bar. He smiles and heads to man the bar for me. I push
through the crowd, and when I get to the bathroom hallway, Bianca is stumbling out of the back door. I follow quickly behind
her, forcing the back door open. When I step out into the alley, the door slams behind me as I look around.
“Looking for me?” She asks from behind me.
I turn and watch her light a smoke. Closing in on her, I stop in front of her and place my hands on the wall next to her head as
she takes another big drag.
“I will break his fingers,” I warn her.
“That’s not very nice,” she says, slurring her words.
“I don’t like you touching him, placing your hands on his chest. I don’t like it at all, Bianca,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Sir, you are working. I am having fun, that’s all,” she says, poking my chest.
She drops the smoke and steps on it.
I stare at her for a moment. “What do you want from me?” She asks again. It is the same question she asked me yesterday, but
I didn’t answer.
“You. I want you,” I confess.
I will not make the same fucking mistake I made yesterday. If she wants me to answer her, then I fucking will.
“I can’t give you me,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her.
“Why?” I ask, feeling my heart race.
“Alexander, please don’t,” she begs me.
But I can’t, I can’t fucking let it go. I can’t stop wanting her. I shouldn’t, I fucking shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.
She stands up straight, face to face with me, and I keep my hands planted firmly on the wall, boxing her in. I lean in, my body
touching hers, and slide my leg between hers.
My lips almost touching hers, I whisper. “I want you, Bianca.” I need her to hear the seriousness in my voice.
She shakes her head. “I can’t give you that.”
“But you can let me fuck you?”
“Yes,” she simply replies.
“Why?” I say, feeling my emotions becoming a little unhinged.
“Because it is all I have left to give, okay?” She yells at me. Her breathing becomes more unstable as I lower my hands from
the wall and pull back.
“You are becoming my fantasy, Bianca,” I tell her.
“We need to stop this,” she says, but her voice is uncertain and distant—two things I don’t like, not with her.
“The fuck we do,” I say as I grab her throat and push her against the wall.
I grab the top of her leggings and stare into her eyes. There is no fear, no worry, only desire and lust, the same desire and lust
I saw in her eyes on the dock.
“Ever wanted to fuck a stranger behind a bar?” I ask softly.
She smiles and nods. “Top of my list, Sir.”
I pull down her leggings and underwear, and she helps me by stepping out of them. Her lower half exposed, and I can feel the
heat coming from her core through my pants. Fuck me.
I release my hold on her throat and unbutton and unzip my pants. I push them down with my boxers, letting them fall to my
ankles as I grab onto her legs and lift her off of the ground. I slam her against the bar wall, her legs wrap tightly around my
waist as I reach between us and grab onto my cock. I place the tip at her entrance, and she grabs onto my shoulders, her eyes
locking on mine.
“Baby, you are driving me crazy, you know that,” I tell her, confessing to her.
“The feeling is mutual,” she confesses softly as I push my cock into her wet pussy.
I groan as I grab her ass and start thrusting into her. “You have been a bad girl, letting another man touch you,” I say in a low,
dark tone.
“Yes,” she moans as I continue to fuck her pussy.
“Your body is mine, Bianca. All fucking mine. Do you understand me?” I demand.
“Yes, Sir,” she moans.
“The next man you let touch your body, that is not me, I will break his fucking fingers,” I warn as I pick up my pace.
Her back continues to hit the wall as her nails dig into my shoulders. Her pussy wraps tighter around me, taking my breath
away. Our bodies fit perfectly together like a puzzle that was always meant to be.
“Tell me you are mine, Bianca. Tell me no other man will touch what belongs to me,” I beg her. Even if she needs to lie to
me, I want her to fucking lie to me right now, in this moment.
“I am yours,” she moans as I lean in, resting my lips against her ear.
“Don’t make me hurt them, Bianca,” I warn her as her pussy wraps tighter around my cock. My bad girl loves the way I talk
to her. She wants to belong to me. Her pussy has been fucking mine since I fucked her in the parking lot.
She is more comfortable with my dirty talk and me wanting to fuck her than she is with me wanting her, actually wanting her
for her, but I would rather have a piece of her than not have her at all.
It makes me wonder what the fuck has happened to this gorgeous, breathtaking woman.
Who the fuck hurt her?
She screams out my name as she milks my cock, pulling my orgasm from me. Her body is shaking against mine as her head
falls back against the wall. I watch her close her eyes and try to catch her breath.
She opens her eyes and looks down at me as I slowly pull out of her. She releases her legs from around my waist. I slowly
lower her to the ground, and she lowers her hands from my shoulders, taking her touch with her. I lean in and connect my lips to
hers.
The kiss is short-lived as I pull back and back away. We both lean down and grab our clothes, putting them on in silence
again. She uses the wall to keep herself upright. I zip up my pants and watch her closely as she turns and looks at me.
I shake my head. “I will break his fucking fingers, baby, I swear. Test me,” I warn her.
She smiles and shakes her head. “You are crazy, you know that,” she says with amusement.
She has no fucking idea how crazy I am. “Crazy about you, Bianca,” I say softly.
Her body stiffens for a moment, but just as quickly, she relaxes. It makes her feel uncomfortable when I make soft statements
about her. I don’t know why, but I plan on figuring it out.
I walk back into her and press a kiss to her forehead, then I lean over and open the bar door. I place my hand on her lower
back and lead her into the bar again.
Fuck me, man, I am whipped beyond fucking belief.
 7
Bianca
“One Mississippi” by Zara Larsson

I open my eyes and see the same window I woke up to when I first came to this town: a window that is not mine.
There are strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me warm. His breath tickles the back of my neck, and our legs are
intertwined together.
Fuck.
I close my eyes and breathe in his salty, masculine scent.
“Why does it have to be like this?” I ask, looking at him.
“You have made us this way. All you have to do is listen to me. I am older than you, and I am just trying to protect you,”
he says confidently.
I stand still, staring at him. His breathing is calm and even, and his eyes are deadlocked onto me.
“I know,” I say as I drop my shoulders in defeat.
How does he always turn things around on me, making it my fault or problem? It starts as one thing, and then before I
know it, I am the one saying I am sorry just to make sure we don’t go to bed angry. He acts as if I am the one who causes all
of our problems. It is not just me.
It can’t just be me. Can it?
“I just want us to be happy and not fight.”
“Okay then, don’t fight,” he says calmly as he opens the fridge.
My heart sinks into my stomach as I turn around and go down the hallway to my office.
It wasn’t always like this, I don’t understand.
I don’t understand what he wants from me.
I open my eyes and feel the tears roll down my face. I slowly untangle my body from Alexander’s. He mumbles something as
he slowly wakes up. I sit on the edge of the bed and run my hands down my face, trying to get rid of the evidence of the tears.
The tears that will come again, they always do.
Alexander places his hand on my lower back, his warmth spreading quickly across my skin. I turn and look at him. His eyes
are open and watching me. He quickly sits up but keeps his hand on my lower back.
“Are you okay?” He asks in a concerned voice.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, standing up from the bed.
My head is pounding from the vodka I drank, my thoughts are fuzzy, and my stomach is killing me. I overdid it once again, but
I want the peaceful oblivion it gives in the moment, even if it is a false peace. It feels good while it lasts.
I lean over, grab my clothes from the chair, and dress. Looking at my phone on the bedside table, I notice I have a few missed
calls. I sit on the edge of the chair and grab my phone. I swipe and put in my code.
I push on the first message from the number I don’t know and put it on speaker. I look over at Alexander. He is leaning his
back against the wall, his attention on me.
 “Bianca, this is Trudiy. I am calling because we want to offer you a therapist position with our company. If you could please
call me back, I would love to discuss the next steps with you.”
I put my phone back on the table and stretched out my arms.
Alexander is staring at me, and a small smile forms on his face. “Therapist, huh?” He asks.
I laugh. “Yes.”
“So, does that mean you are staying?” He asks in a hopeful voice.
I take a deep breath. “Maybe, I do not know yet.”
He nods and keeps smiling. The smile that makes me melt. He is like a book boyfriend coming to life before my eyes. The
book boyfriend who is willing to dirty talk, be jealous, possessive, controlling, and dominant, the book boyfriend who has no
issues bringing to life my fantasies or his.
Fuck me, this just doesn’t seem real.
I lower my arms and slowly stand up from the chair. I make my way over to the bed and place my hands down as I lean in.
Alex follows my every move. “I will see you later,” I say.
He nods and grabs onto my throat, pulling me closer. “I want to take you on a date tonight to celebrate your new job,” he says
calmly.
“Okay.”
“You like the movies?” He asks, watching me closely. He is always watching, being so observant.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I will pick you up at seven.”
Why does he make this all seem so fucking easy?
“What about the tavern?” I ask in a concerned voice.
“Josh can handle tonight,” he says with a smile.
“Okay.”
He leans in and gently connects his lips to mine, then just as fast, pulls back and releases his hold on my throat, making me
groan.
“I’ll see you later, baby,” he says as I stand up.
I turn, grab my phone and shoes, and walk around his bed, stopping at his door. My heart is racing. I want to say something,
but I don’t. Instead, I walk out and head down the hallway to the bar.
I have no idea what I am doing, but I have a feeling it is too late to turn back now.
It is just one date, one date. Nothing is going to happen from one date.
Right?
 8
Alexander

“Guilty” by Bobi Andonov

I walk into the living room to find the floor covered in empty bottles of booze of every kind. Shaking my head, I make my way
over to the couch, kneel in front of my father, and pull the blanket over his body. He has a fresh bruise underneath his right
eye, so either he was drunk and fell and hit his face, or he got in another bar fight. I am sure that once I get back to the tavern,
Josh will tell me if it was a bar fight again.
My pops hasn’t been the same since my mother died. He lost the love of his life, and in return, he lost himself, too. I can’t
blame him for wanting to drown out the pain and the memories of my mom not being here anymore.
It is why I have taken over the tavern and everything else with the family business. I make sure the bills are paid, the doors
stay open, and I always make sure that my pop keeps the house he bought with my mom. I know it would break him if he ever
lost this house. All of his memories with her are in this house, and I have to make sure he doesn’t lose them.
“I’m going out,” I whisper.
His breathing is steady, and I know he will sleep for a few more hours, but he’ll be back at the bar in time for happy hour.
“Josh will be at the bar to watch over you. I love you, Pop,” I say as I lean in and kiss the top of his head.
I stand up and turn, making my way to his front door. He wasn’t always like this, and I wish he would be the man he once
was one day, but I don’t know if that man is alive anymore. I grab the doorknob and turn it, walking out and shutting the door
behind me.
I get into my truck and wipe my sweaty palms down my jeans. I don’t know why I am so damn nervous, but I am. I want to
get to know her, and if that means taking the other stuff slower, I will.
Fucking her has become my new drug, but I want to know more. I want her to let me in, but I know she doesn’t trust me, not
with her heart, at least. Her body, though, appears to have no issues with giving that to me.
I don’t mind working harder for her heart. I am a patient man, and I will break down her walls brick by brick if I have to.

I pull up to Bianca’s house, and she is waiting for me on her deck. She is wearing a white sundress with a cardigan, hiding
her ink from me. Her hair is down and straightened.
I open the driver-side door and slide out, going around my truck and stopping at the passenger door. She stops for a moment
as I open the door for her. She smiles as she slides inside, allowing me to shut the truck door. I quickly walk back to the
driver’s side and get inside, closing the door and putting the truck in drive. I push down on the pedal and turn left towards the
theater. I reach over, resting my hand on her knee.
She gently rests her hand on me, a simple gesture, but I will take it with her. She is uncomfortable with any kind of affection
or words that doesn’t have to do with fucking, so her resting her hand on top of mine is a fucking win in my mind.
I pull into a parking spot in front of the theater and turn off the truck. She opens her door and slowly gets out, closing the
door. I make my way out of the truck and around the front, stopping at her side. I reach down and grab her hand into mine. She
slowly looks down at our hands and then looks up into my eyes.
“Is this okay?” I ask softly.
She smiles and gives me a gentle nod. We walk into the theater hand in hand. It is already filled with people getting their
tickets and standing in line to get snacks. I wrap my arm around Bianca’s waist, pulling her against me. She rests her hand on
my chest as we wait for our turn.
I look over to the left, and my heart sinks.
Fucking hell.
Brittany is standing a few feet away from us, and when she turns and locks eyes with me, I take a deep breath. She walked
through the crowd and stopped in front of Bianca and me. I watch her look Bianca up and down, and I tighten my grip on her
waist.
“It looks like you have found a new flavor, Alex,” Brittany says with amusement.
This fucking chick. She is the one that ripped my fucking heart out. She would say she loved me, then go out and fuck anyone
who knew me, and then she would come back begging me to take her back. And, of course, I did because I thought she loved
me, but she didn’t know how to love anyone besides herself.
My heart races with her words, and Bianca stiffens against me. I place my hand on top of hers on my chest. Brittany’s eyes
follow my movement, and then she looks at me.
“You never let me touch your chest,” she huffs.
“I know.”
“Why her?” She looks at Bianca like she is beneath her.
“She isn’t you,” I calmly say.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “You always come back to me, Alex. I am patient. I can wait.”
“You will be waiting forever then, Brittany. I told you I am done playing your games.”
“We will see about that,” she says before looking at Bianca. “Don’t get too comfortable, honey,” she warns as she turns and
walks back to her friends.
Of fucking course she had to be here right now, fucking stupid.
I lean down, resting my lips against Bianca’s ear. “Don’t worry about her, baby.”
“I’m not worried,” she says softly, slowing my heartbeat down just a little.
The line continues to move up.
“What can I get you?” The man asks with a smile.
“A soda and popcorn with butter, please,” I say, keeping my hand on top of Bianca’s.
I am afraid she is going to fucking disappear. I am so scared she is going to throw her hands up and walk away from me, and
it fucking terrifies me.
The man hands over what we ordered. I lower my hand from hers and take them, giving him a nod before I lead Bianca into
the theater and to the last row in the back. As we got settled, I noticed Brittany sitting across from us. Of course, she fucking
did.
I place my hand on Bianca’s leg as she watches the movie, but I have no intention of watching the movie. I want to watch her.
I will always want to watch her.
I lean in, resting my lips against her ear as I slowly slide my hand up her thigh under her dress, brushing my fingertips lightly
against her skin.
“What are you doing?” She whispers.
“Ever wanted to be finger fucked by a stranger in a theater?” I whisper into her ear.
I feel her tremble under my touch. “You are so bad,” she whispers, but I can hear the desire in her tone.
I continue my light touches until I reach the apex of her thighs. I can feel the heat radiating from her pussy, and when I brush
my finger against her clit, I can feel the wet spot in her panties. Sliding my fingers under her underwear, I cup her pussy as I
suck her earlobe into my mouth. A small moan escapes her as she places her hand on top of mine through her dress.
“Tell me, baby, you want me to make you cum on my fingers?” I ask as I kiss along her jaw. I pull back and grab her face,
forcing her to turn and look at me. She grabs onto the armrest and my leg, her eyes now deadlocked with mine. “Are you my
bad girl, Bianca?” I ask her, hearing the desire taking over my tone.
“Yes,” she moans. That is my good fucking girl.
A smile forms across my lips as I lean in, gently connecting my lips to hers as I move my fingers through her folds. She opens
her legs wider for me making me smile against her lips as I push two fingers into her wet pussy.
I pull back, breaking the kiss. “Who do you belong to, Bianca?” I ask her.
“You.” She breathes out as I rest my forehead against hers. She starts to move her hips, forcing my fingers to go in deeper. A
growl leaves me when I see Brittany watching us.
I tighten my grip on Bianca’s face. “Don’t ever doubt I want you, Bianca. You are the only one I want, do you understand?” I
ask as I push a third finger inside her, stretching her. I can smell her arousal, and my cock throbs against my zipper, begging to
be buried inside her.
“Yes,” she breathes out as she tries to keep from moaning.
I continue to fuck her with my fingers and press against her clit with my palm. I curl my fingers, rubbing against the sweet
spot that will have her squirming in her seat momentarily. She digs her nails into my leg as her eyes roll back, and her pussy
convulses against my fingers. I smash my lips to hers again, needing to take the moan from her, needing to feel her as her body
comes undone around my fingers, giving me what I want.
Her.

Bianca hasn’t said one fucking word to me since we left the theater. She has shut me out again, and I can’t figure out why for
the life of me.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me Bianca,” I confess, needing to break the fucking silence between us.
“What?” She asks as she turns and looks at me.
“Brittany, she doesn’t mean anything to me,” I confess again.
“It’s not her,” she says.
“Then what is wrong?” I ask her, looking her over. I hate how she can put so much fucking distance between us when I am
sitting right next to her. She feels like a million miles away. I pull up to her house and turn to look at her.
She shakes her head and looks out the windshield. I see a tear roll down her cheek, and I lift my hand, but before I can do
anything, she moves away from me.
I take a deep breath. “Please tell me what is wrong. What did I do?” I ask and beg her at the same time. I can’t fix what I
have done if I don’t know what the fuck I did.
“Nothing, Alexander. You haven’t done anything; it’s me,” she says with confidence and sadness.
“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling my anxiety unravel out of control.
“I’m married,” she whispers.
My heart sinks into my fucking ass. “What?” I ask.
She turns and looks at me, more tears rolling down her face. “I am married,” she whispers again.
My heart stopped with her confession. I lowered my hand to my leg, turned, and looked out the window.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“You are married?” I ask, but I fucking heard her. I heard the one thing come from her mouth that I never fucking saw coming.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?” I ask, feeling my blood starting to boil.
“I left him,” she confesses.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly.
I snap my head and look at her. “It does fucking matter, Bianca. I don’t play fucking games. I have been played way too many
fucking times, and I don’t have the patience or the desire to play games.”
“I am not playing games,” she says, trying to reassure me, but it is not working.
“Yes, you are because if you weren’t, you would have told me long before right fucking now that you are married,” I snap at
her, feeling the shame and guilt quickly crush into me.
“I’m sorry.”
Those two fucking words, I can’t tell you how many times I have heard them from my exes. They are sorry for making me
jealous on purpose, and they are sorry for cheating on me. They are fucking sorry. Sorry doesn’t change what they have done,
and it doesn’t change at this moment that Bianca, in a way, has been lying to me this whole fucking time.
I shake my head and look at her. “Get. Out.”
 “What?” She asks, tears streaming down her face.
“Get the fuck out of my truck, Bianca,” I say through gritted teeth.
The truck goes silent as I try to calm down my racing heartbeat. She opens the truck door and gets out, shutting the door. I can
feel her eyes on me as I put the truck in drive and speed off.
This whole fucking time, she has been fucking me while she is married.
“Fuck!” I scream as I slam my hand against the steering wheel several times.
I feel the tears building in my eyes as I speed down the road towards the woods.
This can’t be fucking real.
I was so fucking terrified that I would lose her, and to come find out, I didn’t have her to fucking lose.
 9
Bianca

“War Is Love” by Bobi Andonov

I open the front door and stumble inside. My hands shake as I slam the door. I stand in the middle of the living room for a
moment. My chest tightens as my legs give out, and I fall to my knees.
“Fuck!” I scream as I throw my purse and phone across the room. The phone shatters against the wall as I run my hands
through my hair, pulling it at the roots. Tears continue to fall down my face, and my stomach twists into a million knots. I feel
like I am going to be sick.
‘Get the fuck out of my truck, Bianca.’
Alexander’s words race through my mind over and over again inside my head. I don’t blame him. I would have kicked me
out, too. I don’t deserve his forgiveness. I don’t deserve happiness. I don’t deserve any of it. I am just a lying whore.
“Fuck!” I scream as I wrap my arms around my legs and start to rock back and forth.
I fucked up. I should have never stayed here, and I should have never fucked him.
I am not a good person. I am a fucking horrible person.
I quickly stand up and make my way into my bedroom. I grab the suitcase from the floor and place it on my bed. I turn and
stop as I look at myself in the mirror.
“This is because of you, Bianca. We are the way we are because of you,” he says, looking me right in the eyes.
“No, no, no,” I scream as the memory assaults my mind. Those are the words my husband told me a lot at the end.
I run over to the mirror, stopping in front of it. My hands form into fists as I scream and punch the mirror over and over
again. My breathing is rapid as I stare at myself through the shattered mirror. The mirror that represents how I look and feel on
the inside.
Fuck.
FUCK.
I grab the hand towel and wrap it around my busted and bleeding hand before I quickly turn around and open the closet.
Grabbing all the clothes I could, I shoved them into my suitcase, zipped it closed, and grabbed the handle. I grab my laptop, put
it in its bag, and throw it over my shoulder.
Everything else can stay. I don’t even fucking care anymore.
I don’t deserve this, him, this place, none of it.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I open my eyes and turn, making my way out of the bedroom.
I stop when I see the front door open and close. Alexander takes a few steps into the living room and stops. His breathing is
rapid and unsteady as he looks at the suitcase in my hand.
“I’m leaving. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. This was a mistake. I need to go.” I slowly approach him, stepping to the side to
go around him, but he grabs the suitcase and rips it from my hands. He drops it on the floor and grabs my arm, pulling me
against his hard, safe chest.
 “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks in a pained voice.
“I should have. I am sorry,” I say, hearing the shakiness in my tone.
“Why did you leave him, Bianca?” He asks softly.
I stand still for a moment, looking over his face, then landing on his deep green eyes. “Because I wasn’t happy. We weren’t
good together,” I confess.
“Did he hurt you?” He asks, looking over my face.
“Yes, but not in the way you are thinking,” I say, feeling my heart racing so fast it might bust out of my chest.
“What does that mean?” He asks in a curious but worried voice.
“He didn’t hurt me physically, Alexander. It was emotionally, psychologically, and mentally. It has left me shattered,” I
confess.
I want to explain everything to him, I do, but I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know what I am feeling or what the fuck is
happening, but I do know one thing. I feel unworthy, unworthy of this man standing in front of me.
“Bianca,” he whispers, shaky, making my chest ache.
“I need to go,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I rip my arm from his grip and step back. “I am not good for you,” I say as I set my bag with the laptop on the table.
“I don’t believe you,” he says confidently.
How can he say that?
He doesn’t understand. I am shattered and am not good for anyone.
“Please, I beg you. Do not do this, please. I am…” I stop and take a deep breath, taking a few more steps back until my back
hits the wall. My heart races as he matches me step for step until he is standing in front of me, watching me.
“You are what?” He asks.
“Not worth it,” I whisper as I lower my head.
He lifts his hands and cups my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burn into me like a dangerous fucking fire. “You are
to me,” he says, staring into my eyes straight to my broken soul.
“I will only disappoint you, Alexander. I am trying to protect you,” I explain.
He needs to listen to me. He needs to understand that I am not who he thinks I am. I am not a good person. I am not someone
worthy of the love he has to offer. He deserves someone that is not me.
“From what?”
“From me,” I scream as I try to push him away from me. He doesn’t move, and as my body starts to shake, he pins me against
the wall and places his leg between mine.
“What did he do to you, baby?”
His words cut me deeper than any knife ever could. His question is the same one I have been running from, the question I
don’t want to answer.
“It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I wasn’t what he needed. I tried. I tried every fucking day, but I always fell short. It was my
fault,” I cry in defeat.
“Bianca.”
“No,” I interupt him. “You don’t understand. I will hurt you. I will break you. I will cut you. You don’t want this, you don’t
want me,” I urge.
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
“Alexander, this is why I only wanted physical. I can handle physical, but I can’t handle this. The look in your eyes is killing
me,” I plead as I feel the small piece of happiness I found here shatter with my confession.
“Let me keep you alive then, Bianca. Let me suffer beside you. Let me bleed for you,” he begs.
I don’t say anything. I am at a loss for words as he lowers his hands from my face and grabs the bottom of my dress. He
slowly pulls it up my body and tosses it to the side. Grabbing onto my underwear, he pushes them down, and they fall to my
ankles. I slowly step out of them.
“Hurt me, Bianca,” he says as he unbuttons his pants.
“Break me, Bianca,” he confesses as he unzips his pants.
“Cut me, Bianca,” he says as he grabs my legs, lifting me off of the ground and slamming me against the wall.
I wrap my legs around his waist and place my hands against his chest. His heart is racing so fucking fast. His eyes stay on me
as he leans in and grabs onto my throat, forcing me to submit to him.
“I want all of you. All the sharp, shattered pieces of you. I want all of it. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I cry as he reaches between us and slams into my aching pussy.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he apologizes as he pulls out to the tip and slams into me again.
I cry out in pleasure and pain as his salty scent falls over me, and he plants his hand next to my head on the wall.
“I never should have told you to leave,” he says as he rolls his hips, grinding my clit against his pubic bone.
 “I will never ask you to leave again, baby, I promise,” he promises me with a voice of fire as he starts to move in and out of
me.
“Oh my,” I say as my stomach fills with butterflies.
“I have trust issues, Bianca,” he says as he leans in, nibbling my lower lip. He sucks it into his mouth, then releases my lip
and slowly kisses up my jawline to my ear. My pussy pulses against his cock as he continues to hit the same spot over and over
again.
“I am jealous,” he growls in my ear.
“I am possessive,” he continues as he slams into me over and over again, making my entire body shake against him and the
wall.
“I am controlling,” he nips my ear.
He takes a deep breath. “I need to be dominant.”
“You are not the only one with sharp shattered pieces, baby,” he whispers into my ear.
I shatter around his cock as he slams into me one last time. Both of us scream each other’s name as my entire body trembles
through my release. He slowly pulls out of me and pulls back, looking over my face. He loosens his grip on my throat as he
studies my eyes.
“I don’t care what you do to me, as long as you are the one that does it,” he confesses as he lowers me to the ground.
My legs are weak as he pins me against the wall.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say shakily.
“Don’t say anything at all. Let me show you with my actions and not just say it with my words,” he pledges.
“Fuck,” I whisper as he leans in and kisses my forehead.
He knows all the right things to say, but I am starting to realize he has no problem making sure his actions match the words he
says.
 10
Alexander
“Darkside” by Neoni

I stack the glasses as Josh continues to mess around with the music. He wanted to make sure the music was perfect for tonight.
He has been staring at me off and on all fucking day, and I know he wants to ask me what is going on with me and Bianca,
but he won’t, not until I bring it up first. Part of the reason I’m staying quiet is because I know not knowing is driving him
crazy, and the other part is that I don’t know exactly what is happening between us.
It has been a week since I fucked her against the wall in her house and professed part of me to her. We have been hanging out,
getting to know each other or at least as much as she will allow me to, which is more than before, so I am not complaining.
I want to ask her about her husband and what pushed her to leave, but I am pretty sure my guess is spot on without her saying
anything.
By the way she acts and the things she says about herself, her husband might not have hit her physically, but he has been
beating her down psychologically, emotionally, and mentally for a long time. I can tell she doesn’t feel worthy or beautiful. She
questions herself often and hesitates, like she is thinking through every word before speaking.
The small things she does make my blood boil for the man who believed he was treating her right when, in reality, he was
breaking her down piece by piece.
I turn my head when I hear the bell, and my stomach lurches when I see who walked in.
Fucking Brittany. What the fuck does she want?
“We are closed,” I say as she approaches the counter, stopping in front of me.
“I know. I wanted to talk to you,” she says softly.
“About what? I have nothing to say to you,” I snap.
She has this sixth sense way of knowing when I am over her, and that is when she plows back into my life and fucks me up
all over again, but not this fucking time. I am not playing this game with her. I am over it, and I am over her.
“Don’t be like that, Alex,” she says playfully.
I place the glass on the counter and look at her. She is dressed in a tank top and jeans, and her hair is pulled back into a
ponytail. It brings back memories of a time when I enjoyed pulling so hard on that fucking ponytail that she’d scream out my
name. That is until she broke my trust and chose to sleep with men I thought were my friends. Now when I see that ponytail on
her head, it makes me sick to my fucking stomach.
“I am not being like anything, Brittany. You are the one that cheated on me, remember,” I say—my irritation toward her
surfacing.
You know those people who can bring out the worst in you? Well, that is this chick for me. Not even a minute of listening to
her, and she has me seeing fucking red.
“I told you I was sorry,” she says, pouting at me.
Sorry doesn’t mean shit if you keep doing the same shit over and over again. And it is not like she did it fucking once. She
has fucked more of my friends than I can count on one hand. She wasn’t fucking sorry, she was just sorry she got fucking caught.
 “Sorry doesn’t change the fact you fucked other men while we were together,” I say through gritted teeth.
“We will always come back to one another. It is just what we do,” she says confidently, which makes me fucking sick to my
stomach.
I shake my head. “Not any fucking more.”
“Why? Because of that girl, I saw you finger fuck in the theater,” she snaps.
A smile spreads across my face as I look her over. She is fucking jealous. Jealous that I am not just sitting around waiting for
her to come back to me. That is what this is about. She wants me now because I don’t fucking want her.
“Is that jealousy I hear?” I ask with amusement.
“Yes, is that what you are trying to do? Because if you are, it is working.”
“You might not understand this, but not everything is about you,” I say dryly.
This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Bianca. The woman came crashing into my life, and since laying
eyes on her, I have been fucking obsessed, and it has been pedal to the medal. No stopping and no slowing down. We are the
definition of fucking taboo, which I am okay with it. I wouldn’t have it any other way, actually.
“Alex, please,” she begs.
“Don’t fucking please me. I warned you, and you did it anyway. Go find another cock to bounce on because there is no me
and you anymore,” I say, feeling my control starting to slip.
“Once she finds out who you truly are, she won’t want you, Alex. You are going to end up just like your father, alone and a
drunk,” she says with venom in her tone.
I don’t respond as she turns around and storms through the bar and out the front door.
She doesn’t fucking know me at all. I don’t want her, I want Bianca, and I will do whatever the fuck I have to do to make
sure she stays mine.

I stand outside, leaning against the back wall, and light a smoke. I can hear the music blasting from the bar. Josh is having
way too much fun. Brittany is inside with some dude, making damn sure to dance and do everything she can to get my attention,
but I am not in the mood to deal with her shit.
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. The memories I have tried to fucking forget come crashing back into
me, taking me to a dark fucking place.
She knows that it drives me crazy when she doesn’t answer me. She never does what she says she will do, and for the life
of me, I don’t know why I keep falling for her fucking lies, but here I am once again driving over to her house because I
need to make sure that she is okay.
She says she is home, but she won’t answer me. All she has to do is say she is home safe. She knows I worry when she
drinks and drives, but she chooses to do it anyway. I swear she fucking does this shit just to make me go fucking crazy.
I pull up to her house and turn off my truck. Her car is in the driveway, but Frankie’s truck is in the driveway as well.
I walk up the steps and try the doorknob; it’s unlocked. I walk in and close the door behind me.
“Brittany,” I call out.
No answer.
I walk through the living room and down the hallway toward her bedroom.
“Babe,” I say softly.
I hear a moan come from the room. My heart sinks as I push open the door and see Brittany riding Frankie’s dick.
They both still, and Brittany turns. “Alex,” she whispers.
I look at the man underneath her. His hands are gripping her hips tightly, and his eyes are bulging out of their sockets.
I look back at Brittany. “Let me explain,” she pleads as she starts to get off of him.
“I don’t want to hear anything from you. Enjoy her pussy, Frankie. You both fucking deserve each other,” I say as I turn
and go back the way I just came. I open the door and slam it shut behind me.
I can hear her screaming my name, but this time, I am not going to give her time to talk her way out of this. She knew
what she was doing. I hope his cock was worth it.
Because this time, I am done.
I open my eyes and take another deep pull off the smoke. I shake my head and drop it to the ground, stepping on it. I push off
the wall and head down the side road to Bianca’s house. It’s three in the morning, and she said she was staying home to read
and write a little bit.
I stop in front of her house and put my hands in my front pockets when I see her on the deck. She has a book in her hand and
is leaning against her house with an energy drink sitting beside her. A smile forms across my lips as I slowly walk up the steps.
She looks up from the book and sets it in her lap. “Hey,” she says, looking at me.
She is at home just like she said she would be, reading a book on her deck. No other guy is here, no one but me.
She is not Brittany.
I take a deep breath. “What are you reading?” I ask as I turn and slide down the wall to sit next to her.
“The Ritual,” she says calmly.
I smile. “Let me guess, another dark romance.”
She bumps me lightly. “Like you even need to ask that question,” she says with amusement.
“Fair.”
I lean back against her house and look at the waves. She gently places her hand on my leg, getting my attention.
“Are you okay?” She asks in a concerned voice.
I hate that she has to ask me that. I shouldn’t be affected by Brittany anymore, but we have a long history and a lot of pain. No
matter how much I try to escape my feelings, they always seem to catch up with me.
“No, not really,” I say softly.
“Wanna talk about it?” She asks.
She wants to know what is wrong, but I don’t want her to know what is wrong with me right now. I don’t want her to hear
about how memories of me walking in on my ex cheating on me are flooding me, drowning me. I don’t want her to know just
how fucked up in the head I am right now.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Is there something I can do to help?” She asks in a low voice.
I turn my head and look at her, and then I scan down her body. She is wearing an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts, making
my mouth water. My eyes land back on hers. She tilts her head and smiles as she sets the books down on the deck.
She slowly stands up. I follow her every move. She grabs the top of her cotton shorts, pushes them down her long olive skin
legs, and steps out of them. She slowly makes her way between my legs, kneels, and unbuttons and unzips my pants. Grabbing
the top, she pulls them down with my boxers. I lift my hips so she can take them down to my ankles.
Fuck.
She stands in front of me and slowly lowers herself to straddle my legs, hovering over my hard dick. She reaches down and
grabs onto my cock.
“Ever wanted to fuck a stranger on a deck against a house?” I ask her, my breathing becoming more rapid.
She smiles at me, and all the emotions and memories that were taking me over just minutes ago have faded away. The only
person on my mind is her.
“This is now mine, Sir,” she whispers as she holds my cock.
“Holy fuck” I groan.
She chuckles as she lowers herself down onto my cock, taking my breath away. I grab onto her hips as she rests her hands
against my chest.
Brittany was right about one thing. I never let her touch my chest. I never let her touch the spot my mother used to put her
hands on whenever she was explaining something to me. She would place her hands on my chest and look me in the eyes, to
help ground me and calm my anxiety.
But Bianca, she can touch me, hurt me, break me, cut me, make me bleed, fucking all of it because I am hers. I am all fucking
hers.
Her pussy wraps tightly around my cock as she starts to grind against me, causing me to groan. I keep my eyes on her as her
head falls back. I tighten my grip on her hips, hoping that she’ll wake up and see my fingerprints on her skin. I want to mark her
all over, making sure that every motherfucker in this town knows that she is mine.
My balls start to tighten as she continues to work my cock, taking me in so fucking deep it takes the air from my lungs. She
lifts her head and looks at me as she keeps her hands planted on my chest. I grab the back of her head and pull her against me,
smashing our lips together. She opens her mouth, letting my tongue enter as she moans my name.
Fuck.
I pull her back as I roll my hips. Her eyes are filled with desire and lust as we stare at each other.
“Now, be my bad fucking girl and cum on my cock,” I demand, trying to catch my breath. She is going to fucking be the death
of me.
“Yes, Sir,” she moans as she picks up her pace.
Her pussy wraps so fucking tight around my cock that I don’t think I can hold back any longer. I thrust up once, hitting that one
spot, and she fucking loses it. We find our release at the same time: the night and the waves taking our screams away.
She stills on top of me, dropping her hands from my chest.
 “Tell me you are mine,” I beg her.
She looks at me for a moment and leans forward, her lips almost touching mine. “I’m yours,” she confesses.
I tighten my grip on the back of her neck and pull her into me, needing to taste her, once again needing validation that this is
real, that she is real.
 11
Bianca
2ND WEEK IN P ORT ANGELES

“Author” by Jacob Lee

I sitthoughts
back in my chair and stare at the screen. I scan the words I have been writing for the last few hours. It is odd seeing my
on the screen, telling my story. A story that I believe needs to be told.
This is harder than I thought it would be. I am sharing part of myself in this new book, and then it is hard because I keep
thinking no one will want to read a book from a no-body Indie Author.
I have never written a book, but I have always wanted to. I never thought this would be the first story I would write, but
sometimes, things happen in such a way we have no control. All we can do is ride it out and hope for the best.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Everything from the last ten years comes crashing into my mind. Good things, things
that were not so good, and all the confusing times that made me feel unstable and crazy.
I never understood how someone can make another person feel so low with just a look or just a few words out of their
mouth. I never understood how it has truly affected me until I started writing this book. It is making me face things that I don’t
think I am ready to face.
“I do love you, Bianca. Everything I do is for you, for us,” he says, looking at me.
I know he loves me; I don’t question that. What I question is if he is in love with me, and I don’t think he is. At least, not
like he was before.
Something has changed with us over the last year, and I feel we will never be the same. We are like two different people,
living two different lives under the same roof. Marriage is not supposed to be like this.
“I know,” is all I can say now because I don’t know what else to say.
“What do you want from me?” He asks.
“I don’t know. I want us to go back to the way we were before.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” he replies.
“Me either,” I whisper as more tears build in my eyes.
I get up from the couch and go into my office, closing the door. My office is the one place I can cry, where it can’t be
heard. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.
I never want to go to bed angry or sad; that is why I try to talk to him, but sometimes, like tonight, we just go around in
circles. I can tell talking to me is starting to get on his nerves, even though he won’t admit it.
He says everything is fine between us, that we are good, but I don’t see or feel it.
We are fine or good or whatever because we just say let’s start over, and then before I know it, we are fighting about
something else.
I feel like I never do anything right. I feel like I am not the wife he wants me to be.
I feel like a failure.
I open my eyes, and tears roll down my face. I look down at my phone and see the unread messages from Alexander and my
friends. This is the second phone I have had to get. I threw the first one into the ocean and shattered the second one against my
wall. I have had bad luck with phones lately or bad luck in general, I guess.
Things with Alexander are confusing as fuck. We fuck more than anything else, but that is because I want it, and so does he.
I went so long without any kind of sexual touch that now that I have had it again, I am becoming addicted to the way he makes
me feel. The way my skin feels against his, the way he groans and growls, his dirty talk, and the way he is willing to fuck me
whenever I want. Fuck, he is intoxicating.
Relationships shouldn’t be based on sex, is what people say, or my favorite, at least our relationship is not based on sex.
I fucking hate hearing those words. I want a relationship that is fucking based on sex. I want sex to be the foundation and
everything else to grow around it.
I know what it feels like not to be touched, and it fucking sucks. It makes you question yourself in ways a woman never
should.
I don’t see fucking the same way other people do, I guess. I see it as a way to show you love someone. Feeling desired is a
big deal, and for so long, I didn’t feel desired. Now that I am, I want to fucking drown in it with Alexander.
I don’t know what that means, but I can say that I am addicted to a stranger—a stranger who is slowly breaking down the
walls I have had up for so long. In two weeks, he has changed me. It is fucking nuts to say, but it is the truth.
Everyone wants to dictate what love should be. Love doesn’t fucking care about rules. Love doesn’t care what the world
wants it to be. It just doesn’t care.
That is why I love reading dark romances. There is something sexy and breathtaking about a man willing to do anything for
his woman. A man who is not ashamed of kinks or sex, who is so possessive and dominant, the woman never has to question if
she is loved or desired.
I want a love like that, and I am scared now because I think I have found it. I think I have what I have always dreamed about,
and now that it is staring me in the face, my head is telling me to run. My heart is aching for the connection, and my body is
fucking going through withdrawal from not being touched by him today.
Talk about being fucking confused.

I turn off the water and grab the towel, wrapping it tightly around my body as I step out of the shower. I step out of the
bathroom and hear a knock on the door. Turning, I walk down the hallway into the living room and look out the window to see
Alexander standing at the door. My heart races as I open the door slightly and lock eyes with him.
“Everything okay?” He asks, looking over my face.
“Yeah, just got out of the shower.”
“Oh,” he says.
“You okay?” I ask. He seems nervous or something.
“Yeah, you didn’t answer my text messages,” he explains.
Shit, I forgot. Time just got away from me, the memories flooding in, and the scene I wrote in the book. I had every fucking
intention of texting him back.
“Sorry, I got stuck in my head,” I say as I open the door and let him inside.
He walks with his hands in his front pockets.
Fuck, it should be illegal to be this fucking sexy without even trying.
He turns as I shut the door, looking at the table covered with my work and book stuff. He turns and looks at me.
“Are you off work?” He asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Did you get some writing done?” He asks in a curious voice.
I nod again. “Yeah, not as much as I wanted, but I got some done.”
He tilts his head and slowly walks into me, forcing me against the door. He places his hands on either side of my head.
“Are you sure you are okay?” He asks me again.
I am so used to saying I am good that I am fine; it is just my natural response when someone asks. I have a feeling that he is
looking for more than just my automatic answers.
“Yeah, just got lost in some memories, that’s all,” I say, trying to give him a little more without giving him too much.
“Wanna talk about it?”
 I shake my head. “Nope.”
He leans in and rests his lips against my ear as he lowers one hand and starts to gently run his fingertips across the swell of
my breasts, making my stomach fill with butterflies.
“I have a place I want to show you,” he whispers into my ear.
“You do?”
He pulls back and nods.
“Where?” I ask. I have never been good with surprises. I always give in and tell the person I’m trying to keep the secret
from, but fuck, it is hard.
“Ever wanted to fuck a stranger by a waterfall?” He asks in a low, dark voice.
“What?” I ask, trying to make sure I heard him right.
He laughs and leans in, kissing my lips quickly, and then he pulls back before I can lean into him.
“I want to fuck you at the waterfall,” he says confidently.
“Okay” is all I can say.
One thing about Alexander is he is not afraid to state what he wants. He is not ashamed of his desires or mine and is more
upfront than I am. I have winds of courage, but not all the time. Now, give me booze, and it gives me all the courage I need.
Sober, I have to feel, I don’t know, sassier, I guess. Right now is not that moment, but he doesn’t seem to need a moment.
It is one of the things I love about him. He is never ashamed and never afraid to show me that he wants me physically. It is
refreshing, if I am being honest.
“I think that will replace any memories you are drowning in now, don’t you?” He asks with a smirk.
“Yes, I think that would help.”
“Hmm, I will make sure it does more than just help baby,” he whispers in that sexy-ass low voice he does when he is about
to rip me the fuck apart.
Fuck.
He pulls back and drops his hands, taking his warmth and smell with him.
“I will get dressed, and we can go.”
“Okay, I will wait here,” he says softly.
I turn and look at the laptop and look back at Alexander. I quickly walk over to the table and close my computer.
“Seriously?” He asks, trying to hide his amusement.
“It’s not ready yet,” I explain.
“Can I read it when it is?” He asks.
I stop and look at him. “You want to read my book?”
“Of course I do.”
I feel my heart stop with his words. I push back the tears that are trying to build in my eyes. “Okay, once it is edited, you
can,” I confirm.
He smiles. “Promise?”
“I promise,” I say, trying to reassure him.
He smiles and nods as I turn and walk down the hallway into my room. I hear him moving around in the living room as I drop
the towel to the ground and open my drawer. Grabbing underwear and socks, I sit down in the chair, put my socks on, and then
my underwear. I lean over, open the second drawer, and grab my joggers. I stand up and quickly put them on. I go to the closet
and grab the first sweatshirt and t-shirt I see, putting both of them on quickly as I slip on my shoes and turn.
Alexander is leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he studies me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Looking at you,” he responds so easily it makes the wetness between my legs increase. The way he looks at me drives me
crazy. He doesn’t hide his sexual desires of wanting me, and I have to say I never want him to.
I shake my head, walk over to him, and slide past him. He grabs my hand and follows me as we head down the hallway and
through the living room to the front door.
“Oh shit, hang on,” I say as I run over to the table. Grabbing my phone, I turn back around. He has the door open, waiting for
me.
He reaches out his hand, and I make my way over to him, taking his hand in mine.
Simple little gestures from him are not simple to me. Actually, they are a huge deal.
He leans in and kisses my forehead before we walk out of my rental. He closes the door as I walk down the steps and
squeezes my hand as we walk to his truck.
I don’t know where this man came from, but I do know I am grateful, so fucking grateful.
 12
Alexander
“If I Showed You” by Henry Verus

I hold her hand tightly as I guide her down the pathway. Well, I mean, if you want to call it that. I have been coming to this
waterfall for years and have created my own path. This is where I would come whenever I needed to try to escape myself.
Somedays, it would work, and other days, I still felt like I was drowning in everything I wished I could forget.
“This is one of my favorite places,” I explain.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she replies, holding my hand tightly. She grabs my arm with her other hand as we go deeper into the
woods.
“This place kinda saved me when everything happened with my ex,” I tell her as we continue to walk down the dark trail.
This is the one place Brittany didn’t fucking take from me. The one place she didn’t fucking taint.
“The girl from the theater?” Bianca asks softly.
I fucking hate that she knows about Brittany at all. She has always thought she was better than she is and treated people like
shit. It wasn’t just me. She treats everyone in her life like they are a piece of shit and she is the queen. Of what? I don’t fucking
know, but she thinks very highly of herself.
“Yeah, Brittany,” I confirm, hearing the bitterness in my tone.
“I’m sorry she hurt you,” Bianca says with sadness, making my chest ache.
“Me too, but I don’t think she knows how to be faithful,” I say through gritted teeth. I honestly don’t think that chick has been
able to stay faithful to any man she has been with. I don’t know why I thought I would be any different.
“She cheated on you?” Bianca asks in a low voice.
“Yeah, that’s where my trust issues come from, along with the other things that are wrong with me,” I say calmly.
Bianca stops, pulling me to stop with her. I look at her, and she presses into me. It is dark, but I can see the sadness in her
eyes as she rests her free hand against my chest, causing my heart to race for a whole new reason.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” she states, looking me in the eyes.
I take a deep breath. “I wish that were true, Bianca,” I sigh.
“When I look at you, Alexander, I see a strong, loving, passionate man who has not been treated right. There is nothing wrong
with you,” she says with more confidence. I let her words wash over me, slowly drowning out the other thoughts and things I
have been told.
I inhale deeply as I lift my hand and gently brush the back of my fingers down her cheek. “What did he do to you?” I whisper.
She pulls back, her eyes searching mine as she tries to lower her hand from my chest. Before she can move it, I rest my hand
over hers, holding it against my rapidly beating heart.
“Made me question my worth,” she confesses shaky.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have ever felt unworthy,” I say, staring into her sad eyes.
“There is a lot that has happened, but that is the first thing that comes to mind when you ask that question,” she explains, but I
can see it in her eyes. There is so much she is not telling me, so much she is keeping hidden.
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When they drew close, Byrna shuddered in Kern’s arms and turned
like a child to clasp his neck and hide her face on his shoulder.
“I can feel it,” she said in a muffled voice. “It’s watching. It’s trying to—
to get into my mind. Don’t think, Kern. Don’t let it reach you!”
Kern was briefly aware of a hot, coiling ribbon of hatred that moved
through his brain and was gone as his mind slammed its gates of
thought against the intruder. It was not easy to force his wings to
carry them onward when his whole mind rebelled against drawing any
nearer to the Mountain. He saw revulsion on the faces around him
too, and caught uneasy glances cast sideward at his face. Their pace
had perceptibly slowed.
“I don’t like it either, Elje,” he said to the winged girl across the
swimming void that flowed past far below. “But we’ve got to do it.
What choice have we, except to be killed? They may be following us
from the cave already. Our only hope’s to reach the Mountain where
we may do a little damage before—” He did not finish. There was no
need to finish.
Now they were so near the wall of opalescence rising like the end of
the world before them that Kern could see their own reflections
floating distorted high up on the face of the cliff.
“Is it glass?” he asked.
“No one knows.” Elje controlled a shiver. “No one who came close
enough to find out ever returned. It may be just a—a solid mass. I
don’t—” She had glanced across her shoulder to answer him. Now
her gaze went further.
“They’re following,” she said in a dull voice. “If it is solid, we’re
trapped.”
Kern looked back. In a dark mass like a low, level cloud on the
horizon, the winged ranks of the enemy moved in their wake.
Kua suddenly pointed.
“Look ahead,” she said. “Up there on the cliff, to the left—is it a cave?
I—why, it’s opening wider!”
Everyone looked eagerly. There was a moment’s silence. The
Mountain too seemed to wait and listen. But Kern saw no change in
the face of the cliff. Unbroken, unshadowed, opalescent, it lifted
before them.
Wind sighed past them toward the cliff, ruffling their wings. The sigh
grew stronger—was a rising sough of sound—a sough that soared to
an ear-stunning shriek. Headlong they whirled toward the Mountain,
helpless, drawn upon that sudden irresistible wind. Kern clutched
Byrna tighter and fought his wrenched wings as the cliff rose up in his
face, like a solid cloud.
Dimly he could make out the shape of the opening at the same
moment it engulfed him. Stunned with surprise, he went tumbling into
the cliffside on that sucking wind, half-blinded by the opalescent mist
which filled the tunnel. It was like spinning through a solid, for the
impalpable stuff they flew through was indistinguishable to the eye
from the stuff of the Mountain itself.
Light dimmed behind them as they were drawn helpless in tumbling
flight deeper and deeper into the heart of the cloud—the Mountain—
there was no term for what it was they sped through.
The wind that bore them along slowed. The deafening noise of it fell
and was a sigh, a whisper—silence. For an instant they hung in
opalescent nothingness, gasping for breath. Then Kua’s voice
sounded sweetly in the hush.
“Look back—look back! I can see the way we came. I can see it
closing. Like water flowing together. No, like running sand.”
Kern ceased to hear her. For suddenly he was aware of an almost
imperceptible thickening in the mist around him. Something not seen,
but felt. A closing and a supporting, so that the weight of his body and
Byrna’s no longer hung wholly upon his wings. A solidifying in the
very air.
He could not move.
 CHAPTER VII
Combat
Relentlessly the Mountain which had opened to receive them had
closed again, gently and solidly. The little group of captives hung
frozen in the very postures of flight, spread-winged, hair still blowing
in a wind which no longer moved past them. They were frozen as if in
a moment of eternal Now, as if time had ceased to move and their
own motions had ceased with it.
And then before them in the opalescent cloud of the Mountain a thin
coil of light began to glow.
Swiftly it grew clearer. And Kern looked with the eyes of the body
upon that which he had seen before with the eyes of the mind. He felt
the malevolence beat out at them before the fire itself came wholly
into focus, strong hatred, curiously impersonal. It was the hatred of a
Mountain, a cloud, not a human hatred.
The lazy, coiling ribbon moved through the solid fog, the foggy solid
glass, somewhere ahead of the captives. It was impossible to gauge
distances here, but the thing was close enough to see in every detail.
Its slowly writhing coil that drew in and out of its own folds with a
leisurely, never-ending motion. Its burning color that was hot to the
eye and hot to the perceptive mind with the heat of its consuming
hatred.
Something lay within the coils. It was drawing its ribbon-folds
caressingly about that something. They could not yet see what.
For an instant or two the great, slow, burning thing moved in its long
folds before them, blind and impersonal and hating. But then came a
new change. Then it looked at them.
Spots of luminous darkness began to swim slowly through the coils.
They came and went. Whenever a coil moved itself to face the
captives in the solid glass, eye-spots swam upon that coil, flickering
out again as the fiery curve moved on.
It watched. It waited and hated and was silent.
That which lay within it, bathed in the caressing coils, began to move.
The coils altered their pattern to leave what they supported visible.
And Kern felt a shock of emptiness within him that made the vision
blur for a moment. When he looked again it was unmistakable and
clear before him.
Bruce Hallam, lying quietly on the supporting coils, his eyes open and
regarding them as impersonally as the eyes that came and went upon
the ribbons of fire.
“This—” Bruce Hallam said clearly “—is my world.”
The words came to them as if through empty air, with a cold clarity
that allowed of no mistake. For it was not wholly Bruce Hallam who
spoke. It was a voice of fire too. Hatred and blinding light coiled
through the words as it coiled through the fog before their eyes. Two
beings spoke with the single voice, but two beings who were now
one.
Sudden memory flashed through Kern’s mind. He saw the long-ago,
far-away room again, where the little group of mutants had stepped
from one universe to another. He saw Bruce opening his steel door
upon a waiting world, searching it with his eyes, closing the door
again. He understood now. Bruce had known. Somehow, he had
known in the single glance which world held kinship for him and
which did not.
Bruce, with his mutant’s uncanny skill at creating out of any means at
hand the more-than-machinery which would do his bidding, had
recognized this world. Kern remembered with shock his own
blindness when Elje had described to him what the Mountain’s
slaves, under its guidance, could do with any material at hand—how,
when they still suspected Kern of complicity with the enemy, they had
cleared his room of any matter out of which he might build a weapon
to destroy them.
Yes, this world was Bruce Hallam’s—not Kern’s after all. A winged
world, yes, but a world under dominance. And Bruce’s was the
dominant realm.
All this flashed through his mind with the swiftness of a single
thought, while Bruce’s coldly burning words still sounded in their ears.
He was remembering how impersonal Bruce had always been, how
remote from human feeling, when he heard the cold voice again.
“There is no place in my world for you,” Bruce told them calmly.
“There is room only for the winged people—and Me. You come from
malleable flesh, a malleable heritage. I can not trust you here. My
coming into the world made a cyclone here in the Mountain, drawing
out forces better left untouched. I was helpless then. I could not save
—myself—until I was out of your reach. The time has come to destroy
the last remnants of those who defy me. And you mutants whose
flesh I can not control must go with the rest.”
He did not stir, but the coiling flame moved with sudden quickened
speed, flowing toward them through the imprisoning glass which held
the humans so inflexibly. Bruce, then, was only the voice of this
dreadful duo. The ribbon of flame was the body.
A long loop of it moved lazily forward, falling gently like a silk ribbon
through air. After it the fiery length followed gracefully, weaving in and
out of its own folds, and within the folds, always caressed by them
streaming over and around his body, Bruce Hallam moved too, rigidly,
supported on the coiling loops, not a muscle of his own limbs stirring.

Kern watched them come. He had no idea what would happen when
the burning coils touched the first human, but he could feel the white
heat of its malevolence flow before it. Helpless, voiceless in the grip
of the unyielding glass, he strained fiercely for—for—he did not know
what. Only to be free to fight even uselessly against the oncoming
enemy.
Sharply the thought in his mind broke in two. He had known this
cleavage before, but the utter strangeness of it stunned him for a
moment so that his thoughts went blank while something, something
stirred incredibly through his body.
The old feeling of change, of unutterable newness, of an unguessed
sense opening within him like nothing man ever knew before.
Three times he had known this feeling since he stepped into the
winged world. Three times he had crushed it down, fearing and hating
it for its threat of making him alien again, alien to the winged people
he had hoped would be his own. But this time he did not fight. This
time, in the violent, straining effort to break free, he broke instead
some barrier which had until now held back the new thing, the
something which had burgeoned relentlessly within him ever since he
came within the Mountain’s realm.
The glass walls that held him like a prisoner in ice grew dim and
vanished. His companions pilloried in glass beside him wavered into
darkness. He no longer felt the warmth of Byrna frozen in glass in his
arms. Everything was dark—even the slow—coiling ribbons that
looped leisurely toward him through solid substance.
And then out of that darkness came light. All about him came light.
And it took a long moment for him to discover he was not seeing that
light with eyes. He was seeing it—incredibly, impossibly—with his
whole body. He saw everything around him in one all-encompassing
range.
“This is the way the Mountain sees,” he knew with sudden certainty.
How he knew it was not clear; it was a knowledge that came with the
new vision. He and the Mountain, they shared a common faculty.
Motion far away caught his fathomless attention and he was looking
out through the clouded side of the Mountain and seeing, as if he
stood before them, the flight of the oncoming winged men who had
followed the fugitives from the eyrie. They were nearly here now,
approaching the monstrous cliff as blindly as if they meant to dash
themselves to death against it.
With the same all-embracing sight, Kern was aware of the people
frozen around him into the glass, and of the looping coils that flowed
toward them, and of Bruce Hallam, rigid as an image of stone,
moving with the moving ribbons.
But they looked very different now. The people.
He knew their faces, the familiar outlines of their bodies, but he could
see through the bodies with his new vision. And the appalling thing he
saw was not the structure of bone and muscle and nerve which a part
of his mind expected there. These things were only pale shadows
upon the—the other.
The people were rings of flat, luminous color, disc upon disc of it,
superimposed, overlapping, no two people with the same patterns or
the same colors. And he knew that the muscular structure humans
are aware of, the skeleton, the nerves, are only a part of what
comprises them. Only a part—and not the part important to the
Mountain. The Mountain ruled by other means.
Every flying man approaching outside the cliff had one thing in
common with his fellows. Each was made up of ring after ring of
colors, brilliant arcs and half-moons lying one upon another and in
continual delicate shifting motion. But in each, and moving slowly
over the rings, a circle of luminous darkness swung. Darkness like
the eyes which swam up to the surface of the coiling ribbons that
embraced Bruce Hallam. An eye—the eye of the Mountain.
That was the thing the Mountain used in them to transmit its
commands, then. The point of contact in each man that made him a
slave when the orders came.
There was no such eye in any of the people imprisoned around Kern.
He saw his own body with this new vision, rings and discs of color like
the rest, and with no dark, circling spot that meant the Mountain
owned him.
The Mountain is a creature of glass, he told himself clearly. Its body is
this opalescent stuff which is solid or gas as the Mountain wills. It can
make tunnels and caverns like open mouths through it and close
them again. And its brain, its motivating force, is the ribbon of fire,
endless, revolving upon itself in the center. It has many strange
senses. One of them I share now.
He thought: When we came here, we somehow brought on a cyclone
of violent forces drawn from the Mountain itself. Because Bruce
Hallam had an inhuman kinship with the entity which dwells here. But
it was an entity so strong, so accustomed to mold the minds of its
victims and use them like tools to create other tools, that we
ourselves were reshaped without knowing it.
This strange new sense began very early to take shape in me. Kua
reacted too, and Byrna. Sam? I don’t know. He’s gone. But as for me,
I have changed.
Something stirred mysteriously through his flesh, and without the
need to look down, Kern’s horizon-circling vision told him that light
had begun to glow in him—fire—long, rolling loops of fire that
stretched with incredible flexibility through the solid glass imprisoning
him.

The ribbon of fire upon which Bruce’s body rode paused in its motion,
hesitated, almost drew back. Kern felt dimly its surprise and its
strange, inhuman hatred. But only dimly, for his own mind was too
stunned with this final revelation to let any other feeling through.
Too malleable, he thought despairingly—flesh too malleable to hold
its own form under the irresistible altering pull that was the Mountain.
And now through the icy glass which held the humans rigid, two
shapes of coiling flame turned lazily over and over—one shape
supporting a human body and glowing incandescent with
malevolence, the other still too amazed for emotion, but stretching its
new limbs of fire with a sort of reluctant, voluptuous luxury as the
endless ribbon rolled in convolutions of flame in and out of its own
length. A strange, inhuman luxury, this, to stretch upon the firm,
permeable glass, moving through it as light might move, in a
dimension of its own.
Hatred like a blast of furnace-heat struck upon Kern’s new awareness
with an impact that jolted him out of this bewildering mental fog. Hate
and fear. He had felt that blast before, invisibly in the voids of thought,
and terror had come with it so that he fled blindly to escape. But this
time fear did not follow after the hate. This time he welcomed conflict.
“Now we’re equals—matched equals,” he told himself, and felt even
in this moment of danger and surprise the utter difference of his own
mind through which thoughts moved slowly and clearly, like his new
limbs through the solidity of the glass. If he had ever owned a body of
flesh and blood, it was his no longer. If his mind had ever dwelt there
and shaped its thoughts to the contours of brain and skull, they were
shaped no longer. This was new, new, terrible and wonderful beyond
human understanding.
Slow exultation began to burn in him as he rolled the great coils of fire
which were his body toward that which until now had dwelt here
alone. Now the Mountain had a double mind—if the fiery ribbon was
indeed the mind of the thing—but moving still through a single
gigantic body of opalescent glass. And within that vast body, the
doubled mind moved upon itself in suicidal combat.
Hatred was a bath of flame that engulfed him as their farthest coiling
loops touched—touched and engaged with sudden violence. But
Kern was not afraid now, not repelled. With a surging lunge he tested
the strength in that shape which was the twin of his own. The ribbons
writhed and strained. Then they paused for a moment and drew back
in mutual consent. And simultaneously, as if hurled by a single mind,
lunged forward again.
This time the fiery limbs entangled until their full endlessly revolving
lengths were wholly engaged with one another and the two identical
shapes of rolling fire strove furiously together in a single knot that
boiled with ceaseless motion.
Hatred burned and bubbled all around Kern’s awareness as he strove
coil against coil with the enemy. But it did not touch him any more. He
felt no fear. And when he began to realize that he could not vanquish
this being by strength alone, not even then did he feel fear. Emotion
was gone from him. Coil by coil he tested the thing he strove with,
and coil by coil he found it braced irresistibly against his greatest
strength. He could not swerve it by a single loop.
But it could not swerve him. Matched in strength as they were in
shape, the two creatures of flame lay for a moment upon the clouded
ice, limb straining against limb in a perilous balance that permitted of
no motion.
Then, very delicately, the awareness that had been Kern reached out
with a sense he had not until this moment known he possessed, and
touched the frozen body of Bruce Hallam. For he knew now that he
and this enemy were too perfectly matched for either to prevail,
unless one or the other found a lever by which his adversary could be
overthrown.
Was it Bruce? Gently, and then with increasing pressure, he tried that
rigid, unyielding body which had once been human. There was
nothing—nothing. Not even the discs of overlapping color which the
still-human exhibited to his new sight moved through Bruce’s limbs.
He was solid, unmoving, a shape of nothingness, and no sense could
touch him. No, Bruce was not the source through which strength
might be drained from the enemy.
What, then? Kern asked himself with passionless consideration. And
the answer came clearly and unhurried, as if it had waited only this
query to reply.
The winged men waiting outside the mountain—that was the answer.
Almost outstripping the thought, his sight and his strange new senses
leaped to the surface of the Mountain. There the slaves hung on
stretched wings, tilting to the updrafts from below, circling and soaring
and waiting in mindless obedience for the command that would
release them from their mental thrall.
Once he had seen them as winged humans fighting with fanatic
violence. Now they were only shapes of overlapping discs, full of
slowly turning motion, and in each the Eye of the Mountain swimming
leisurely over the surface of the colors.
The Eye, he thought. The Eye!

Like a new, unguessed arm his awareness shot out and plunged into
the nearest spot of darkness which swam over the colored discs.
Plunged in—groped for contact—and tapped a source of flame. Up
through the arm the flame leaped, and into Kern’s body of matching
flame. Almost imperceptibly he felt the straining coils of the enemy
give beneath the pressure of his own.
Another, and another and another of the flying shapes gave up its tiny
source of fire, and Kern’s strength grew with each. The combat which
had hung motionless in mutual violence now writhed suddenly into
action again as the balance was destroyed. But the fury of the enemy
seemed to double too as it felt itself bent backward upon its own fiery
coils.
What had been combat before the stasis turned into abrupt turmoil
now. The two ribbons of flame convulsed together, lashing and
whipping into an incandescent fury of struggle. And Kern knew in a
timeless moment or two that even this was not enough. He must find
some last source of power to give him the victory.
The arm with which he had robbed the flying men of their Eyes
groped, plunged deeper, seeking more power within them. And
amazingly, found it.
For an instant Kern could not understand why strength in a full, deep
tide flowed into him as the light began to fail in his enemy. And then
he understood, and a surge of triumph for the first time glowed
through his whole being.
For in giving its strength to its slaves, that it might command them,
the Enemy had opened a channel which ran both ways. And in
draining the slaves, Kern found himself draining the Enemy itself—
reaching back and back through each slave into the source from
which that strength came.
From a score, a hundred channels, the Mountain must have felt its
own power drain away. Its power, but not its hate. Kern could feel the
sheer, inhuman malevolence burning about him in great washes of
flame as the strength of the coils against his grew steadily weaker.
The fire sank down within it, dimming and fading as the creature bled
its own power away—bled flame, and slowly, slowly died!
The turning ribbons of light no longer moved against Kern’s
awareness. His limbs engulfed not a luminous involuted band, but a
thin, pale hatred which fell apart as he drew his own body back. It fell
apart into a tiny rain of droplets, each of them dancing with its own
seed of hate. Twinkling, fading, and the hatred fading with them, until
they were gone.
Kern felt change all about him, in the substance of the Mountain itself.
A vast, imponderable shifting of the clouded glass, a falling apart of
the atoms which composed it, as its soul of fire had fallen. The
opalescent stuff was a fog—a mist—a thin, dissipating gas which no
longer supported him. The cold of clear air struck terribly upon his
fiery limbs as the Mountain dissolved from about him. He convulsed
upon himself in a knot of flame that seemed to consume itself and to
cease—to cease—

Everything was blank around him. Neither dark nor light, but void. He
hung motionless upon nothing. He was no longer a shape of flame.
He was no longer a shape of flesh. He was nothing, nowhere.
This was infinity, where time was not. For milleniums, he thought, he
drifted there upon oblivion. Milleniums, or moments!
From far away a something began to be. He did not recognize it—he
knew only that where nothingness had been, now there was a
something. He heard a call. That was it, a call, a sound of incredible
sweetness.
A voice? Yes, it was a voice of sheer melody, saying a name. He did
not know the name.
“Kern—Kern,” it cried. The syllable had no meaning to him, but the
sweetness of the voice that shaped it gradually began to rouse him
from his stupor. Over and over the syllable sounded, and then with a
sudden blaze of awareness he knew it for what it was.
“My name!” he thought with amazement. “My own name!”
The mind came back into him, and he knew. Like Bruce Hallam, he
had hung frozen and empty from the touch of the all-consuming fire
which had been himself. Like Bruce, he had been emptier than death.
“Kern, Kern, come back,” wailed the voice of impossible sweetness.
He knew it now. Byrna’s voice, lovely as a siren’s magical song,
summoning him back to the living.

He heard a voice of impossible sweetness, and slowly, slowly, he felt

warmth return to him.

Slowly, slowly, he felt warmth return to him. Slowly he drew his mind
together again, and then his body came back around him, and with
infinite effort he lifted the eyelids that shut out the world.
He lay on a hillside in the full warm tide of the sunlight which poured
down from an empty sky. There was no Mountain any more. No
vertiginous thunderhead of glass towering up the zenith, casting its
pale shadow across the world. Someone bent over him, holding her
wings to shut the sun’s glare from his eyes. Her wings glistened.
Tentatively he flexed his own. And then strength came back with a
magical rush to him, and he sat up with a strong beat of his pinions
that almost lifted him from the ground. All around him smiling faces
watched in the shadow of their wings.
And he knew that he was free at last, and the winged world was free.
And he was no longer alien.
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