Flawed Heart (House Of Obsidian #1) (5 page)

He moves quickly, pushing his body forward towards mine, but I keep moving. When he shifts, I see a tattoo beneath his shirt. It’s my name. He never had that before. Something lodges in my throat and tears burn in my eyes. Why would he get a tattoo of my name when he completely destroyed me? Why? I don’t understand. He said he didn’t love me. So why the hell does he have that? Is it some sort of reminder of the mistakes he’s made?

“Ana,” he says again, lashing out, trying to grab me.

“No, no!”

I turn and get on my hands and knees, crawling through the crowd. I’m in a dress and heels, so this isn’t working out so well for me. As soon as I can, I launch to my feet and start running. I shove through the crowd, trying to escape, needing air so desperately I feel my throat closing in.

“Ana!”

No.

No.

No.

“Fucking stop!”

I can’t.

Max, I can’t.

I run as fast as I can, and when I hit the bottom of the stairs, a big hand wraps around my upper arm and spins me. I fly as if I weigh nothing and slam into a hard, massive chest. My face presses against it and I make a strangled, sobbing sound. I raise my hands and start fighting, pushing back, trying desperately to get away.

“Stop fightin’ me. Fuck, just calm down.”

“Let me go, I shouldn’t have come here. Max, please let me go.”

He doesn’t. His big hands stay on my shoulders and he holds me there effortlessly, as if I’m not squirming and trying to free myself. I don’t look up at him—I just stare at his chest, and I keep trying to break free. I can’t meet his beautiful eyes, because that means letting him see this raw, broken pain in my own. I can’t allow that.

“Please,” I cry.

He moves me, not answering, and not giving me the chance to fight further. He leads me up the stairs, his big body behind mine, his hands on my shoulders. I don’t fight, because the closer I can get to the outside, the closer I am to escaping. I need to run, and process this. I can’t do it right now; I’m not ready. I thought I was, but I’m not.

“Nice catch there, Max,” a tall, handsome man says when we get to the top of the stairs. “Better than the last one you took home.”

My body stiffens and his words hit me, so hard I can’t breathe. I bend forward and start gasping for air. When did I think I was ready for this kind of emotion? The thought of Max with another woman, his mouth on hers, his body inside hers, makes a pain I never thought I’d feel again rip through my chest.

“Fuck off, Josh,” Max roars.

“Jesus, dude, I was only joking.”

Fury takes over my pain, and the mix becomes a combination that’s consuming. I straighten and slam my elbow backwards, hitting Max in the stomach. He grunts and I make a run for it. I pump my legs as hard as I can, getting to the top of the stairs and taking a sharp left. I skirt around tables, knock over chairs, shove into people and trip a few times, but I manage to make it outside. Once there, I slip around to a dark side of the club and press my back against the brick wall.

With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone and start frantically looking for the number to call a cab. The phone is snatched from my hand before I even get the chance to dial anything. I look up to see Max staring down at me, panting with fury and God knows what else. “You’re not running again. Not until I’ve had the chance to fuckin’ talk to you.”

“No.” I gasp, pushing on his chest, trying to fight my tears. “I’m not ready for this, Max.”

“You’re not getting a choice,” he says, grabbing my wrists as if I’m not trying to fight him off. He brings them together in one of his massive hands and shoves them above my head. I thrash from side to side, but he does something that has my entire body going still. He brings his forehead down and presses it against mine.

I stop breathing.

He used to do this to me so often; it was his way of showing affection. When we were younger and we fought, he’d stop mid conversation and press his forehead to mine, and without fail, it would calm me. Over the years, it became more passionate than a kiss, more loving than words. It was our thing.

“Max,” I croak, my voice trembling.

“Blue Belle.”

I make a strangled sound, but I can’t pull back. I want to but I can’t. His skin is so warm, and this comfort is one I’ve wanted for what feels like an age. I’ve gone to bed alone and woken up alone for so long I can’t remember what comfort feels like. At least, I didn’t until this very second.

“You need to let me go,” I manage in a quiet, broken voice.

“I won’t.”

“Please,” I beg, trying not to enjoy the feeling of his warm breath against my mouth.

I move my eyes up to look into his, and I struggle to see the man I fell in love with. If it wasn’t for this simple gesture of love he’s showing me right now, I would be sure a stranger was standing over me.

“What happened to you?” I ask, before thinking.

He flinches. “I lost the best thing I had.”

I shake my head from side to side, trying to pull back. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t, Max. You pushed me away. You said . . .”

His words from that night haunt me; they have wedged into my soul, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t move them.

“I know what I said,
Ana
,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean it.”

“No!” I shout, jerking my hands. “You don’t get to do this, do you hear me? You don’t get to say you didn’t mean to rip my heart out!”

“Things were fuckin’ bad, Blue Belle. I wasn’t the same person.”

“No?” I cry. “You think I didn’t notice that? You think I didn’t feel the bitter, empty loneliness when you pushed me away, when you slept in different beds, when you started drinking and shut me out? You think I didn’t figure out you weren’t the same fucking person?”

I’m crying now. I can’t stop it. Big, fat, ugly tears roll down my cheeks. Max makes a pained, throaty sound and steps back, letting my hands go. “Baby . . .”

“Don’t!” I scream so loudly my entire body starts to shake. “You do not get to try and explain yourself. I gave you a chance, Max. I gave you a thousand chances to let me in and you refused. Now you’re going to see how it feels to be on the outside.”

“If that’s the way you feel,” he barks. “Why the fuck did you come here?”

“I just wanted to . . . to . . .”

“See me?” he growls in my face. “See what I’m doing? See if I’m dating? See what happened to me? All of that, but you don’t want to talk to me. That’s not fucking fair. We can’t pretend we don’t know each other for the rest of our lives.”

“I just . . .”

He leans down closer until his lips are so close to mine I can taste his breath. “You just needed to see if I still affected you the way I used to?”

No.

No.

“N-n-n-no.”

God dammit. Now I’m stammering.

“If you could say that without stammering I might believe you, Blue Belle.”

“Let me go, Max,” I say, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “I’m done talking.”

“I’m not done, Blue Belle. I need more. I’ve spent five long fucking years wondering about you.
Needing
you.”

“You don’t need me,” I growl. “You pushed me away and now you’re seeking something you can’t get your hands on. It has nothing to do with need.”

“You know that, do you?” he says, staring into my eyes.

“Yes, I do. If you wanted me so badly, Max, why didn’t you chase me?”

He flinches. “Because I was in a bad place.”

“That’s it?” I laugh bitterly. “That’s the best you’ve got.”

“Yeah, Ana, it’s the best I’ve fucking got.”

“Let me go,” I demand.

He shakes his head and tilts his face until his lips are near my ear. “No, because you want this as much as I do.”

I shiver, but grate out, “No.”

“You’re thinking about the same things I’m thinking about,” he murmurs. “You’re wondering if I could fuck you as hard as I used to.”

I clench my thighs together as heat floods to my core. God damn him for getting this kind of reaction out of my body. I shouldn’t be allowing this. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You’re wondering if my cock feels as good inside your sweet fucking cunt as it once did.”

Oh my God.

“Your crude words won’t sway me,” I say, but my voice hitches.

He slides his tongue out and touches my earlobe. My eyes flutter closed, because the truth of the matter is that I do want what we used to have. I do dream about his body, his cock, his lips—everything about him. I try to remember how amazing he felt inside me, but I can’t. The memories are just that now—
memories
. I can no longer recall how he tastes, or how he feels.

“Funny that,” he says, letting go of my hands and reaching down, grabbing my hip. “I bet if I put my hands in your panties you’d be wet, Blue Belle.”

I swallow the thick lump in my throat, because he’d be right, and I don’t want him to know that. I go to pull back but he moves quickly, capturing my lips with his. I’m so shocked by this, so utterly shocked that I just stand there, numb and speechless. His lips are harder than I remember, but with his big body pressing mine against the wall, and his hot skin warming me, that just seems to fade away. I don’t care how his lips feel.

All I care about is how he makes my heart jump to life.

Kissing Max has always been one of my favorite things to do. Right from the start, having his lips on mine could make my day. I’d happily lay with him for hours, just kissing his lips, tasting his mouth, and being that close to him.

I remember the last time he kissed me—it was the night before he told me he didn’t love me anymore, where he fucked me so hard against the wall I bruised.

Our last kiss was a broken one.

Tears burn under my eyelids and I raise my hands, pushing him back. Everything inside me wants to buckle and kiss this man until neither of us can breathe, but I can’t. I just can’t. He broke my heart and there’s so much unspoken damage between us. Damage that even the most beautiful kiss can’t fix. Max steps back when I push, and I take the chance to slip out.

“Anabelle,” he says, his voice thick and husky. “You can run all you like, but you and I both know that we had something that can’t just be forgotten.”

I step back and wipe all emotion off my face. I don’t do this because it’s truly what I feel; I do this because it’s not that easy. I love Max; I’ve loved him for a long time, and he’s the only man I’ll ever give my heart to, but he hurt me, and I have a daughter to think about. I can’t just let him walk back into my life as if he never left – things have changed and he’ll need to accept those changes. If it were that easy, we wouldn’t be where we are. So I do the only thing I can.

“That’s a shame,” I say, my voice broken. “Because I already have.”

Then I turn and walk away, but not before I see the pain in his eyes.

Damn him.

Damn it all.

“W
ait up, Blue Belle!” I yell, running down the halls. My sneakers squeak on the polished floors as I pound my feet harder to catch up to her.

She’s got her head down, and is rushing away quickly. That’s unusual, because I know she would have heard me. We’ve been hanging out nearly every day for two weeks. Talking with her is effortless, and the more time I spend with her, the more I want to ditch everything and just be with her. She has a fucking grand personality, and she’s funny as hell.

“Belle!” I yell again.

She walks faster. Furrowing my brows, I pick up pace. As I approach, she starts running too. Her hair flicks out behind her as she darts out the doors and towards her car. There’s definitely something wrong. I put my head down and run faster, catching her just before she reaches the old, fucked-up car that she is forced to drive around. I catch her around the upper arm and she skids to a stiff halt.

“Belle,” I say, panting. “What the fuck?”

She doesn’t look at me.

I swing her around and my eyes nearly fall out of my head when I see her face. She’s got a dark bruise forming below her left eye, and it’s starting to swell shut. Rage, unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life, rises forth and explodes as I bark. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

She looks down, and her lip trembles. Shit.

I reach out and take her chin, gently tilting her head back. “Blue Belle, tell me who did that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she stammers out. “I probably deserved it.”

That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. Belle is like a kitten. She’s so damned cute you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to do anything to hurt her. She’s soft-spoken, gorgeous, and the best person I know. Every minute I spend with her makes me a better fucking person. So her words do not ring true, they simply make me angrier.

“Who. Did. This?” I grind out.

“It doesn’t matter; it was just an accident.”

I squeeze her chin softly, letting her know that I’m not stupid and I know she’s lying to me.

“Sweetheart,” I say in a gentle tone, even though I’m bursting with rage inside, “tell me who did this, or I’ll find out myself.”

She looks away and whispers, “I don’t know her name.”

“What’d she look like?”

“B-b-b-black hair and blue eyes, tall, slim.”

I narrow my eyes, not recalling anyone who looks like that. She’s either lying or I don’t know the person who did it.

“Did she say why she did it?”

She glances away again.

“Belle,” I warn her. “I will find out.”

“She said I don’t belong in this world, that you’re already taken, and I need to stay the hell away from you.”

My blood boils. Demi. It would have to be Demi. She would orchestrate something like this in her sleep. She’s been insanely jealous of Belle since I started talking to her, and the more I’ve been hanging with her, the less time I’ve been spending with Demi. In fact, I rarely think of her. I should do the right thing and break it off, but I’m too fucking busy.

“I’ll handle this, but first I’m taking you home, Blue Belle. You can’t drive like that.”

“I’m fine, Max.”

“No, you’re fucking not. Your eye is just about fully closed. Come on, we’ll get your car later.”