Chapter Seventeen

F uck.

I crane my neck as I search the Halloween store for Jaxon on my way out with Michael. He has a pep in his step and lays his hand on my lower back as we walk outside. Jaxon is still out of view, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. The comfortable fall air envelops me, which would have put me at ease if it weren't for Michael being so pushy.

"So you and your brother are still inseparable, huh?"

My spine straightens. I adjust the straps of my small bat backpack. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"I see he hasn't changed much since graduation," he says as he leads me to the right with a short, slow stride to drag this out. His hand on me feels so wrong. His palms are slimy with sweat, and it just doesn't feel as right as Jaxon's touch does.

"Do people change after high school?" I say.

Michael glances at me with a weird look that I can't read, and the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. "I would say so."

Jaxon hasn't changed, and I don't know if I did. I feel the same, but when I was a kid, I wore dresses with bows. Now I wear black grunge- and goth-style clothes and feel way more like myself.

"So, um," I say. "Do you go up to women you match with often, or . . .?"

Michael smiles, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "This is the first time."

I nod and follow his lead as we walk along the sidewalk through the busiest part of town.

"So, where are we going?" I ask.

I already want this "date" to end. Michael gives me the creeps, and I hate how he's still touching my lower back and dragging his fingertips up and down in slow strokes. It's almost like he's resisting the temptation to touch my ass.

Michael may be good-looking, with his blond hair neatly styled and a bright, friendly smile that can put anyone at ease, but he's not Jaxon. He's not broody or tattooed, and he lacks a split tongue that can flick my clit in opposite directions at the same time. His touch doesn't light me up like a firecracker, either.

"I figured we could get something light." He eyes me up and down, leaving me feeling gross from his barely contained judgment.

"I'm not much of a salad girl, if that's what you're thinking."

Michael chuckles and opens a door to a deli sandwich shop. "Yeah, I can tell. Not that I'm judging or anything."

I frown and duck past him, entering the building. My mouth waters from the array of smells, especially the sweet scent of ham and honey bread.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and my heart picks up its pace. The vibration is the one I made specifically for Jaxon.

Michael orders for the both of us at the counter, and we take a seat at an available table. I slip my phone out of my pocket and rest it on my lap, my fingers itching to touch the screen so I can read Jaxon's text message. Michael talks about himself and what he's been up to after graduation. He acts like we've been friends since our teens and I'm dying to know more about him.

My phone vibrates again. I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip and bounce my leg, thankful the table covers the nervous habit. A third text comes in, and I can't hold back anymore. I open the screen and read the texts as Michael goes on about how the gym saved him when he was at his lowest.

Jaxon

You've been a very bad girl, sis.

I'm turning your ass a pretty shade of red before I fuck your throat later tonight.

He touched you and you let him. I hope this was worth it, flower, because his hand now belongs to me.

Dahlia

please, don't do anything to him.

you literally told me to go on a date with him

I never wanted to go out with him. You walked away, Jax

He doesn't respond, leaving me on the edge of my seat. The unknown always scares me, and he knows that. I look up from my phone, finding Michael staring at me with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

"Are you seriously talking to some other guy while you're on a date with me?"

"That's not what's happening." I shake my head .

Michael leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You still mumble? I thought you would've gotten over that."

My lips thin as I hold back every insult that pops into my mind. I just got into a fight yesterday, and I prefer to avoid another beating because of some fragile male ego.

"It was Jaxon," I say through clenched teeth.

Michael's facial features twist in disgust, and he leans back in his seat to put more space between us, like I'm carrying some disease. "You two really are close, aren't you?"

I shrug. I'm not answering that question because I'm afraid I'll spill the beans about us being really, really close. It's not something I would tell anyone, but sometimes I say things without thinking it over.

"Did he ever get a girlfriend, or is he still a virgin with a weird fascination with you?" Michael says with a smirk.

The brakes screech in my mind as I reel over what he said. In school, people spread rumors that Jaxon and I were fucking. They weren't true, but it was one of the many reasons people ruthlessly bullied me. It's weird how even though that rumor spread, Michael asks that question. Then another thing Michael said stands out.

Is Jaxon a virgin?

I shrug and play with a string on my fishnets, pulling it, then letting it snap back to my skin. "First, he doesn't have a weird fascination with me. He's a protective brother. Second, his sex life is no one's business but his."

Michael holds his hands up, palms out in a placating gesture. "Hey, I get it. You don't need to get so defensive. You two kind of make it easy to assume there's more between you, which is . . . gross."

"We're not doing anything," I say. My cheeks burn with a blush, which only intensifies as I recall how my big brother ate me out and fingered me earlier today.

Michael looks down at my chest, then my lap, like he can see my phone sitting on my thighs. "Sure you're not. But when we get together, you can't be talking to your brother. Especially when we're fucking."

My spine straightens as, for the second time, the wheels in my mind pump the brakes. "When we get together? Fucking ?"

Our food arrives, and the server smiles at Michael as she sets his plate of food before him, then does the same for me. When she's out of earshot, Michael turns back to me.

"Yeah?" he says slowly. "I'm buying you lunch. I thought this was common knowledge?"

"You know what?" I stand from my seat and glare right at the asshole. "I don't even want to be here. Especially not with you."

Michael guffaws. "So you're just going to walk away after I paid for your food?"

I roll my eyes and head for the door.

"Dahlia!"

I ignore the jerk and shove the door open. It goes flying and narrowly misses hitting an older woman, who gasps and glares at me.

"Sorry," I mumble, then power walk back to Spooks to look for Jaxon.

"Dahlia!" A hand grabs my arm and whips me around. It's Michael. His fingers tighten on me. "Are you being serious? I was just joking."

I glare at him and shake my shoulder to knock his hand off me. "Where's the joke? Nothing you said was funny."

Michael's eyes harden and turn cold. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"And you're an asshole." I hiss between my teeth as his fingers tighten on my arm. His harsh grip will most likely leave bruises behind.

Michael's jaw clenches, and he yanks me toward him. I stumble a few steps and he catches me, pulling my body flush against his. "No wonder you have bruises and cuts beneath all that makeup. Let me guess, you opened your mouth when you should have done your part as a female and shut the fuc?—"

Sport motorcycles scream down the road and grow closer. Jaxon appears out of nowhere and grabs Michael by the throat. His eyes narrow and lose focus as they turn into bottomless pits.

Shit. He's blacked out.

"Jaxon," I whisper.

Michael scratches his blunt nails on the back of Jaxon's hand, scrabbling to get out of his grip. He knocks back into him, and Jaxon leans with it to prevent him from losing his footing. I gasp and cover my mouth as Jaxon turns Michael around and punches him square in the face.

Michael screams and bends forward, touching his nose with shaking fingers. Jaxon gives him no time to assess his wound before he's pummeling his fist into Michael over and over. He hits his face, chest, ribs, stomach.

I'll give Michael credit where it's due. He puts up a good fight at first but eventually wilts like a dried flower. Jaxon is more seasoned when it comes to fighting. He knows what to do and where his opponent's weakness is, and he uses it against them.

A crowd gathers around us, watching the fight with concern and horror as Jaxon shoves Michael to the ground and straddles his stomach to keep him down. Two people hold their phones to their ears, most likely calling the police.

The motorcycles draw closer until they're pulling up and parking right by us. All the riders are wearing their helmets, and I know immediately they're Jaxon's friends. I've seen them enough times to recognize their forms, along with the stickers they have on their helmets.

My hands shake as fear builds inside me. I'm not scared for myself. I fear for Jaxon possibly going to jail for assault and battery.

"Jaxon. Listen to my voice," I say, and shove past his friends, rushing to his side. I crouch beside him and wind my arms around his shoulders, gently pulling him to me. "We have to go. They're calling the police."

Jaxon doesn't listen. He just grunts with each punch.

Sirens wail in the distance, and with each passing second, they get louder.

I squeeze Jaxon tighter and push my breasts into his side while I kiss his cheek, then his ear, before I whisper, "Come on, big brother. You still need to punish me. You can't do that if you're in jail."

Jaxon freezes and blinks several times before he turns his icy gaze to me. Little by little, life returns to his eyes. He moves like he's about to kiss me, then second-guesses himself as he remembers my request. I hold my breath, waiting for what he'll do next. It's so wrong that I want him to say fuck it and kiss me anyway.

"Come on, man," Ryder says, and taps Jaxon on the back of his shoulder.

The sirens get closer.

Jaxon lets go of Michael, who lies limp and bloody.

I help Jaxon up. He shares a look with Ryder and his other friends before he grabs my hand and runs down the sidewalk to his car. I pray my platform boots don't catch on something and break my ankle as I struggle to keep up with his long strides.

His friends stay behind, and I glance past my shoulder to see what they're doing. My eyebrows draw together as they lift Michael and maneuver him in their arms.

Jaxon unlocks the car, and I slide inside. The engine comes to life and we peel out, then stop where his friends are .

"What are you doing?" I ask, then turn in my seat as Ryder and Aiden open the door.

"Get out real quick," Ryder says, loud enough for me to hear through his helmet.

I hesitate, but I do as they say. They toss Michael into the backseat among the plastic bags filled with decorations.

"We'll meet you at the house," Ryder says, and shuts the door once I'm back in my seat.

"What the hell is going on?" I say.

Jaxon shifts the gear into drive and peels out, right as the police show up.