Chapter 2

Arsen

One minute,I was spinning some sick beats while checking out a fine piece of ass, and the next, the cops were busting up my good time.

Dickweeds.

People scattered like cockroaches beneath a bright light, stampeding all the exits as cops in black gear stormed inside. Adrenaline filled me with urgency and the instinct to flee, but instead of obeying my body’s demand, I stayed rooted on the platform and used the height to stare back into the disordered crowd. My eyes went right to the place he’d been tempting me with his sexy-as-fuck moves, but he was gone. Quickly, I scanned the surrounding area, but it was too chaotic to know where he’d gone.

A sharp whistle cut loose behind me, and I turned as Eli yanked his fingers from his lips and gestured for me to come on. I leaped off the stage, and my friend cuffed me on the shoulder, motioning for us to head for the closest door.

The place was emptying, but it was a slow process because people were crowding the exits and generally acting like bumbling, drunk idiots. So much for all the single-file lines we always had to form for emergency drills.

The cops used it to their advantage, grabbing people here and there to slam them onto their bellies on the grimy floor.

“This way!” I called to Eli, motioning in the opposite direction toward a door not many would know about. The only reason I did was because I’d used it to bring my equipment inside. Shit, my equipment.

I glanced to the stage, debating on going back. That shit was not cheap, and beyond that, I liked it. Grimacing, I watched two officers hop up on the platform. Never mind.

I turned back, noting a few canine units pushing through one of the doors. What the fuck?

“We got to go!” Eli lamented, his dark eyes widening as he took in the search dogs. Saying nothing, I pushed him ahead, and we took off in the direction away from the crowd. The old bleachers were all shoved up against the far wall, half folded in with a few busted sections still sticking out. The ceilings were high, the beams doing nothing to buffer any of the sounds that were just as loud over here because of the echo.

A set of double doors sat near one of the partially unfolded bleachers, which helped conceal its presence. “There!” I directed Eli, and a loose chain hanging off the handle banged against the door when he nearly fell into it.

“Go,” I demanded, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was after us as he threw his weight into it, half tumbling outside.

I started to follow, but movement out of the corner of my eye slowed my steps. Whipping my head around, I peered into the shadows beneath the bleachers. I picked him out instantly, his white T-shirt like a spotlight in the dark. His back was shoved against the wall, his shoulders hunched in, head bowed so low his chin touched his chest.

Worry slammed into me, making me forget I was supposed to be on the run. The chain on the door rattled, and Eli’s head appeared from the other side.

“Arsen! Get your ass out here!”

“Hey!” a deep voice yelled, accompanied by a shrill whistle.

The body beneath the bleachers cringed, trying to fold in on itself more.

“Stop right there!” the officer yelled as Eli bolted out into the dark.

I slipped under the bleachers as the man blundered past, slamming out the door after my friend. Sorry,Eli, you’re on your own tonight.

I wove beneath the rickety bleachers, the sound slightly muffled under the heavy wooden seats. It was unlit and cooler under there too, but his bowed head was easy to find even if he was too lost in his own thoughts to notice me approaching.

Without hesitation, I dropped my hand onto his shoulder, and he jolted instantly, the force of surprise smacking his head into one of the bent beams. The hiss of pain he let out was loud despite the chaos around us.

Automatically, I shifted closer, reaching up to cup the crown of his head and rub gently. His hair was dark like mine but much silkier to the touch.

Stare wild, he flinched back, smacking my hand away from where I touched. Before his arm could drop, I caught his hand, wrapping mine around it in a tight hold. “Come on.”

His lips remained quiet, but his feet dug into the floor.

I turned back, heart nearly beating out of my chest. “Prism, come on.”

“I’m good here,” he protested, voice strained.

“That cop saw me duck under here. He’s coming back.”

His eyes darted past my shoulder and then back to me. A loud screech followed by a barking dog cut through the air.

His body went taut, and I noticed the way his hand was shaking, trembling so much I had to tighten my grip. Isheafraid?

“Come with me or get arrested,” I growled, his fear affecting me in ways I didn’t have time to analyze.

He shook his head, but when I tugged him forward, he followed, and some of the tightness in my chest eased. We couldn’t go outside because the cop was out there, but we couldn’t go back toward the people either. Seeing a nearby equipment closet, I went for it, pulling him inside and quickly shutting the door. We’ll just wait them all out.

It was ominously dark inside the space, saved from being completely opaque by the stripe of neon light outlining the door. Clearly, it was warped and not completely centered in the frame because of the way the glowing green seeped around in the uneven cracks like we were under some weird alien invasion.

What? I like sci-fi movies. Sue me.

Prism’s hand ripped free from my grip, and he let loose a rough sound. “What the hell are you doing?” he barked, storming past me as if he couldn’t wait to get the hell out.

Fisting my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, I dragged him back. He fought instantly. The sound of his shirt ripping filled the dark closet. Spinning, he slammed his elbow down on my forearm to dislodge my hold. Pain radiated into my elbow, but I ignored it to lunge forward just as his hand closed around the handle and turned.

My hands slapped onto his shoulders, yanking him back and tossing him deeper into the closet. He stumbled and knocked into some old shelves. Something fell off and hit the floor with a heavy thud. It was too dark to make out his features, but anger and frustration emanated from his direction as he righted and launched himself forward again.

I met him head on, locking my arms around his waist and bulldozing him back into the shelves once more. Everything rattled, and something scraped sharply along the wall. The body beneath mine shuddered and vibrated like an exposed live wire, breathing erratic and shirt damp with sweat.

His body was locked and loaded, so edgy I could feel the tension in his muscles as he readied to attack. I shifted, dragging my hands around his sides, unable to ignore the ripple of excitement firing through me at finally having my hands on him.

He let out a gruff grunt, and I flattened my palms against his torso, pinning him to the wall.

“You can’t go out there.” I warned him, body just as primed as his.

He threw his weight at me, trying to dislodge my hold. My shoes remained steadily planted in the ground, and I merely rocked onto my heels.

“I’m getting the fuck out of this closet.” Using both his hands, he shoved, slipping past me to bolt once more for the door.

I caught him around the waist, my entire front colliding with his back, both arms locking around him like a harness. He was tall and clearly ripped with muscle. Swimming did this body good.

But even still, I was bigger. Probably about two or three inches taller and broader through the chest. Those couple inches I had on him seemed perfect because when I shifted even closer, I noted the perfect way his ass lined up with the center of my hips.

Wrapped around him from behind, I leaned close to his ear. “You can’t go out there.”

He barely moved, but I felt the tightening of his skin. The ripples of something that practically chased itself over his skin.

Fuck.

His hand slapped over the forearm locked around his chest. Trembling fingers dug into my skin, and his nails pricked the top layer, creating a dull sting. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

He inhaled sharply, but the breath was never released. It created a storm inside him, increasing his shaking and swelling his chest. So much bottled-up energy in this one.

“I can’t stay in here,” he said, breathing ragged. I could feel his heart hammering against my arm.

“I’m trying to keep us from getting arrested.”

“I’d rather that than stay here.”

Ouch.“I’m not letting you go.”

All at once, he slumped, the fight and tension draining from his body and leaving behind nothing but a limp, trembling noodle. I grunted beneath the sudden weight but took it readily and held him up. The hand that had been clawing to pull me off him changed to clinging, and something in my chest squeezed.

His breathing hitched, and I found myself holding tighter, the restraint I used morphing into a hug.

“I can’t stay in here.” His voice was hoarse. “Please.”

“I got you,” I promised, rubbing my palm up and down his arm. “You’re okay.”

He shook his head, breaths turning erratic until he was full-blown hyperventilating. As I unlocked myself from around him, he swayed, but I caught his arm and spun him around. His feet got tangled, pitching him sideways, but I caught him, using my body to right his.

Acting on instinct, I reached up to hold his face, forcing it to look at mine. His eyes were wide, the whites around the dark irises comically large, but I wasn’t laughing because he was having a panic attack.

“All right, hey,” I spoke softly, worry making me desperate. I’ll make this better. “Look at me.”

He didn’t. His eyes darted around the dark room like he was searching the corners and trying to find the door. My fingers tightened on his cheek while my other hand slid up to knot in his dark sweat-dampened hair.

“Look at me, princess.”

His breath caught, eyes snapping to mine. Incredulousness warred with the panic still controlling him.

I smirked. “If you don’t want me to call you that, stop acting like you need a knight in shining armor.”

His expression dimmed as his eyes narrowed, movements uncoordinated as he attempted to knock my hands away. All he got for his efforts was me pulling his hair. Prism grunted, the sound dissolving into a whimper, the sound shooting straight to my dick. The little distraction earned me a fist in the gut, and I doubled over as the breath whooshed out of my middle.

Prism took off, nearly tripping over whatever lay on the floor, and I lunged to catch him even if he did just literally sucker-punch me in the gut.

The door to the closet burst in, electric green flooding the darkness and making me squint. Prism doubled away from the bodies rushing in and collided with me, sending us both into the floor. I grunted, my body cushioning his, but the only thing cushioning me was those rickety metal shelves and whatever was on them.

Pain shot through me, but I didn’t acknowledge it, instead rolling so Prism was under me and my body was his shield.

“Freeze!” an officer yelled from the door, his body backed with strobing light.

Prism went still, but I adjusted, planting my elbows on the floor on either side of his face to conceal it. Our bodies were flush, legs tangled, and I did my best to use the little bit of size I had on him for protection.

A large dark-colored mutt—a German shepherd, I think—rushed over, its cold, wet nose nudging my cheek and ruffling my hair when it sniffed.

“What the hell’s going on in here?”

Lifting my head, I grinned up at the officer. “Haven’t you ever heard of seven minutes in heaven?”

Under me, Prism jolted. “Shut up, Arsen.”

Dipping my head, I couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, he knows my name.”

Bashfulness flickered over his features, which were so close to mine, but I was robbed of enjoying it because he couldn’t hold my gaze. He’s fucking shy. Why is that so cute?

The dog whined and leaped over where we lay, its nose going overtime. He whined again and then pawed at something nearby.

The sound of a light switch being flipped repeatedly made me roll my eyes.

“There’s no electricity in this building,” I told them.

“Then how do you explain the bad lighting?”

“Generator.”

Pretty sure I heard someone mutter, “Fucking kids,” but I was too busy staring down at the man caged beneath me. Sweat beaded his brow, dark hair clung to his forehead, and there were worry lines creasing between his eyes. His breathing was still uneven. I knew because I could count his breaths as his sternum pushed up against me.

Prism shoved on my chest. “Let me up.”

“I like you where you are.”

His eyes flew up. So many emotions swirled in their depths that I finally understood how black was the presence of all colors. So much going on in there. I want to know every last detail.

Obnoxiously bright light from several flashlights flooded the small closet, reminding me we were surrounded.

Fucking cops.

I hopped to my feet, offering a hand to Prism, a gesture he ignored while standing on his own. Shrugging, I rotated, positioning myself between him and the flashlight squad.

“What’s in that duffle?” a voice questioned.

I shrugged.

One of the officers dropped beside it, and after tucking the light under his arm, the sound of a zipper filled the space. It made me realize the music was no longer playing. I hope my equipment is okay.

A low whistle brought my attention back, and Prism stepped around me to look.

“Looks to me like you boys got a lot of explaining to do.”

I followed the beam of light that spotlighted a whole hell of a lot of packaged white powder. My hand curled around Prism’s wrist, gently tugging him into my side. “Could be anything,” I said, trying to sound unbothered.

One of the light beams swung to the dog and the vest strapped on his body. NDD. NarcoticsDetectionDog.

Fuck.

“That’s not ours,” Prism declared.

A pair of handcuffs appeared and then another.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“That so?” The officer scoffed, taking a step closer. “Tell it to the judge.”