Chapter 7

LENNOX

The night air is cool against my skin as I walk back to my apartment, a smirk playing on my lips. My thoughts are consumed by Stevie, her fierce eyes, her defiant smile, and that fiery red fucking hair. She's unlike any girl I've met before—feisty, sassy, and capable of giving as good as she gets. She makes me want to work for it, to earn her, and goddamn, it's refreshing.

But it's more than just a challenge. The moment I saw the lipstick on her cigarette, the same brand I'd found at the plantation campfire where the Magnolia burned down, everything clicked. Stevie is the other Pyro. The one who set that beauty of a blaze. Fuck, I'm excited.

She understands fire and this internal need to watch shit burn the same way I do. But it's more than that. She likes the burn, just like I do. I saw the marks across her skin. The raised and scarred patches of burnt skin along her inner thigh. She feels the power and beauty and beauty of fire, and she gets off on that shit. No one else I know understands it or has the same respect for the destructive element the way I do.

Only her.

I quicken my pace, eager to get home, and let the memories of tonight wash over me as everything clicks into place. I can't wait to see her again. The anticipation of playing this game, of fucking with her, is almost too much to bear. I reach my apartment, the door, and twist the keys in the lock, unlocking it. It creaks slightly as I push it open. The small space is dark. A sign that Greyson didn't crash here tonight.

Good. That fucker will know something up just based on my excitement, and I don't feel like getting into it with him.

Not tonight.

I don't bother with the lights. Instead, I head straight for the bathroom, shedding my clothes along the way.

The shower starts with a hiss, steam filling the small room. I step under the hot spray, letting it cascade over me, washing away the night's grime but not the lingering scent of Stevie on my skin. I close my eyes, the images of her pressed against the counter, her moans filling the kitchen, replaying in vivid detail. How good she felt, how perfect she was against me. Every thrust, every gasp, every scratch of her nails against my back is etched into my memory.

I need to find out where her shop is and pay her a surprise visit. After all, I've already been caught stalking her once, and it worked in my favor. A chuckle escapes me at the thought. She was annoyed, but there was that glimmer of intrigue in her eyes, that spark that told me she was curious, drawn to me despite starting the night off refusing me.

The water beats down on me, but my mind is elsewhere, replaying every moment spent in her small kitchen. The way she looked at me, the challenge in her eyes when I called her a witch. She's not easy, and that's part of what makes her so damn attractive. She makes me want to break her, to make her mine in every way; she just doesn't know it yet. No one will ever get what drives us. What fuels our fascination with fire; only we can be that for eachother.

I lean against the shower wall, letting the water run over my face. The heat reminds me of the fire, of the way it consumed the warehouse last night, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake with my little message. A message for Stevie.

A thrill runs through me at the memory, at the thought of Stevie being part of that same destructive beauty. The blazes we could set together.

I turn off the water and step out, grabbing a towel to dry off. My reflection in the mirror shows a man with a wild gleam in his eyes, a man on the edge of something exhilarating. Tomorrow, I'll find her shop. I'll surprise her, remind her of the connection we share, the fire that burns in both of us.

I throw on some clothes and head to my laptop, pulling up a search engine. I type in her name, adding keywords like "shop" and "herbs." It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for. A small, obscure place tucked away in a corner of the city, just like I imagined. I quickly write down the address of the shop and the phone number in hopes that it's hers before closing my laptop.

Leaning back in my chair, I let my mind wander to the possibilities. Showing up at her shop and seeing her reaction. She's going to be pissed, and fuck if that doesn't add to my excitement. My cock hardens all over again with just the thought of that look in her eyes when she realizes I'm not the other guys she's dealt with. I'm not the type to just hit it and fuck off. I'm Lennox fucking Arecenaux. I get what I want, and I want Stevie.

But before I tell her just how perfect we are for each other. I want to continue this little game between us. Pyro to Pryo. It's her move, and I want to see what she's got. How far she's willing to go. Then, and only then, will I tell her who I am, and then I won't rest until she's mine in every fucking way.

I stand and stretch my arms over my head. This is going to be fun. More than that, it's going to be explosive. Stevie won't know what hit her, but by the time I'm done, she'll understand. She'll see that I'm not just interested in a fling. I'm here to claim her, to make her mine because no one else can.

With a final glance at the address and phone number, I head to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, and I can't fucking wait. I close my eyes, a smile playing on my lips as I drift off, dreaming of fire, of Stevie, and of the flames we'll ignite together.

Morning comes quickly, sunlight streaming through the blinds, waking me from a restless sleep filled with vivid dreams of her. I stretch, feeling a surge of energy and purpose. Today is the day I begin to truly unravel Stevie's world, to see what she's all about and how far she's willing to go.

How much fight she really has in her.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I grab the address and head out. The Quarter is already bustling with life, but my focus is singular. I navigate through the streets with ease. I stop by my favorite little cafe, grabbing a breakfast sandwich and black coffee for the road.

When I arrive, I park my car on a side street and head over, pausing outside, lean against the wall of the building behind me, taking in the unassuming storefront. It's quaint, almost inviting, with herbs and vials displayed in the window. An old wooden sign hangs above the door, blowing in the wind. I can see why she likes it here; it has a certain charm, a hidden depth, much like her.

As I stand outside her shop, leaning casually against the wall, my eyes lock onto her through the large bay window. She's busy inside, tending to herbs, arranging bottles in the displays, and dealing with customers. There's something mesmerizing about watching her work, her movements fluid and confident. She's focused, a slight furrow in her brow as she picks up a bundle of dried lavender, its purple hues contrasting with the vibrant red of her hair that cascades over her shoulders in loose waves. Her small, tight frame moves gracefully as she navigates the cramped space of her shop.

She's wearing simple jeans that hug her hips fucking perfectly and a plain black crop top that shows off a sliver of her toned stomach. Over it, she has on an oversized flannel button-up, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The shirt hangs loosely off her shoulders, and a part of me wonders if it ever belonged to a man. An ex-boyfriend, maybe? I ting of jealousy forms in the pit of my stomach. But the moment she bends over to pick up a box, the thoughts melt away as her cute ass comes into view.

Fuck, the way the jeans stretch taut over her firm ass is enough to bring me to my goddamn knees.

I watch as she talks to a customer, her lips curving into a polite smile. Her friend from the bar is there, too, moving in the background. He must work for her. I recognize his lanky frame and the way he hovers, always within reach but never in the way. He seems protective of her, like a loyal guard dog. Had I not seen him making out with another guy all night, I might view him as more of a threat, but it's clear he's harmless.

It doesn't take long to realize Stevie is in her element here. There's a certain allure in her confidence in the way she handles the herbs with practiced care. This place, these herbs, they mean something to her.

She must sense something because she suddenly looks up, her eyes scanning the street outside. I freeze in place, doing my best to obscure my face with the hood of my sweater. For a moment, I think she's spotted me, but then she looks away, turning her attention back to her customer.

I smirk, enjoying the thrill of watching her without being seen. It's kinda a turn-on. I've never been one to stalk, but sitting here, watching her, I can see why they get off on it. I could sit here all fucking day, watching her.

Part of me wants to cross the street and step inside her shop to see her reaction when she realizes I'm here. I not only know her name, and where she lives, but now I also know where she spends her time, where she works. But not yet. There's a time and place for everything, and right now, I need to maintain the element of surprise.

Besides, the game is only beginning. I can't show her all my cards just yet.

I stay for a few more minutes, soaking in the sight of her. The way she moves, the way her hair catches the light, the way she interacts with people—everything about her is just fucking captivating.

I don't want to leave, but I have shit to do. Plans to set in place.

Turning away from the shop, I head back to my car and climb inside before heading towards the junkyard. There's something cathartic about smashing things up, about releasing the pent- up energy and frustration. It helps me clear my mind and focus my thoughts. And with the bar being open tonight, I need to be focused and relaxed.

I can't be thinking about Stevie. Wondering if she's using tonight to make her move. I need a clear head. No distractions.

Like that's going to be fucking possible.

The junkyard is a short drive away, a sprawling mess of discarded metal and broken machinery in a fenced-in area on a back country road. It's a place I've come to know well, a sanctuary of sorts. As I climb out of my car, the familiar smell of rust and motor oil fills my nostrils. Lifting my hoodie over my head, I toss it on the hood of my car. I grab a sledgehammer from the pile of tools near the entrance, the weight of it comforting in my hands. It's probably my favorite thing when to use when it comes to smashing shit up.

I make my way to the far end of the yard, where a pile of old car parts and scrap metal awaits. With a deep breath, I lift the sledgehammer and bring it crashing down onto a rusted fender. The impact sends a jolt up my arms, and I relish the feeling. I swing again and again, the metal crunching and bending under the force of each blow.

With each swing, I think of Stevie. Of her fiery red hair, her confident smile, her defiant eyes. The way she looked at me last night was challenging and inviting all at once. There's something about her that gets under my skin and makes me want to push her, test her limits. She's not like the other girls, the easy ones who will ride my dick with no questions asked. No hesitation.

No, Stevie makes me work for it, makes me earn it. And that's exactly what I fucking intend to do.

The fender finally gives way, collapsing into a twisted heap. I toss the sledgehammer aside, my breath coming in heavy pants. The exertion feels good, cleansing. I wipe the sweat from my brow and make my way back through the yard, leaving the wreckage behind.

As I walk, my thoughts return to tonight. I have to be at the bar later, and one thing I never considered is Stevie possibly showing up. The thought of seeing her again, of feeling the electricity between us, sends a thrill through me. After dismissing me so easily last night, how will she react to seeing me again? Will she try avoid my bar? Try to avoid me?

Because if that's the case, good fucking luck, Stevie.

I leave the junkyard behind, heading back towards my apartment to clean up. The city is coming alive with the buzz of evening activity. I'm anxious about tonight. About the unknown of how things will play out.

But regardless of whatever route she takes tonight, the game is still on, and I intend to win.