Lethal Attraction | 18+

Chapter 14

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Chapter 14

Blake

Water droplets rained down on him from the showerhead above. Steam clouded the glass partition separating the shower from the rest of the en suite, familiar scents of bergamot and the warm, smoky essence of birch and patchouli circulated the space, invading his senses.

It calmed him, to a certain extent.

The tightness in his muscles did not cease as the image on his mind attacked his vision again and again, replaying the worst of the nightmares that have haunted him for the past 5 years.

Calla; helpless, powerless... vulnerable. Against enemies she didn't even know were hunting her.

Up until that moment, he had hoped that his nightmares were just that.

Nightmares.

However, the past few hours have brought to him the sudden clarity that they weren't just nightmares, and that they could become very real; no matter what he has done to keep them fictious and mere figments of his overactive imagination.

Keeping his distance from her is not an option now. For all he knows, he could be the only thing standing in the way between Calla and whoever would wish to harm her. In Gabriel's eyes, at least, he was definitely getting in his way.

He didn't doubt her ability to stay alive. On the contrary, he would trust her with his life, but having Gabriel Arsenio as an enemy is not something to take lightly. Nor a Dutch mob.

For just a brief second, Blake saw the hesitance in his eyes. Gabriel wasn't sure of what to make of him and maybe, just maybe, he saw a glimpse of fear in his gaze.

He recognized that look. Having only seen it a handful of times, it was a look ingrained in his mind.

When he was thirteen and he beat his older brother to the ground.

When he was sixteen and he caught his brother's whore with a knife, leaving marks that ribboned his baby nephew, Casper.

When he was nineteen and dumb kids were talking shit about Calla.

The last one was not as severe in comparison and, unlike the first two, definitely did not end with him getting beaten within an inch of his life, yet it was the gravest mistake he had ever made. Because Paris was there.

He saw him lose control.

The first time, he finally grew the balls to raise his fist against his brother, Sander, but that ended horribly when he ratted him out to their uncle who favored him. He was beaten black and blue by his tugs, defenseless.

The second time, although Sander didn't care for Tess, she was still his whore and therefore his property. He didn't care much for his son who Tess was caking red in Casper's own blood. Sander was much bigger then than when he was thirteen and, having learned from the first time, beat him as well.

The last time, he singlehandedly pummeled six men around his age who took it too far in insulting Calla to the ground. He was so lost in his rage that he didn't sense Paris watching in the shadows.

He breathed hard, knuckles split open, staring down at the last one. He hadn't bothered knowing their names, all he knew was that they were talking about her.