Zephyr
he’d detached, but he’d certainly disappeared. And she didn’t want to automatically assume it was because of her.
He didn’t come home that night, or the next, or the next, and Zephyr waited, and waited, waited.
After leaving with Hector post-steamy kiss, he’d not returned. She’d gone home after her volunteering, had dinner watching a movie, and when it became clear that he wouldn’t be back, she’d crashed on the couch surrounded by the dogs. That was mostly because she’d never slept alone in any house, and the thought of going up to her room in the house surrounded by wilderness had made her shiver. At least with that dogs, it hadn’t been as bad. Bear especially, sweetheart that he was, had curled up on her feet, the expansion and contraction of his sleek body easing her nerves a bit.
Nala had come in the morning and woken her up, Leah had come in soon after to take care of the dogs, and Zephyr had gone to work with Victor, returned, and waited. Rinse and repeat.
The next evening, she’d gone down to the first level to hang out with other members of the staff on the property, had her dinner talking to Zen, and crashed on the couch again in the company of the dogs, Bear laying his head on her stomach with canine compassion.
Alpha hadn’t had any contact with her for days either. And while her instinct was to think it was because of her, she overrode that. It was possible that something urgent had come up and he got occupied enough not to give her a call. He’d just told Victor to relay the message that he would be away for a few days, and that had been it. And it could very well be the underworld shit or the killer shit or some other shit she had no idea about because he didn’t communicate with her.
So, she was trying not to take it personally, even though she knew for a fact he was getting updates on her from Victor. And that sucked because she didn’t know if she was more pissed or more hurt.
“Hey, Zee!” her sister called out from the back of the long common room in the SLF building where the women who stayed there watched television or played boards games. Zephyr glanced at her in question.
“A little lady wants to see you.”
Zephyr let her eyes drift down to a young girl at Zen’s side, something fiery taking root in her stomach. The girl, with straight black hair and half-dead eyes, couldn’t have been more than fourteen. But it was the purple bruise on the right side of her face that made Zephyr grit her teeth.
Oh, the monster.
She kept the smile tight on her face and waved the girl forward to the chair in front of her. “Come here, honey,” she cajoled, keeping her voice light and soft.
The girl walked forward slowly as though sore, and Zephyr’s fingers curled around her scissors.
“Is it okay if I touch your hair, sweetheart?” Zephyr asked once she sat down tentatively, knowing from experience that some survivors didn’t want anyone touching their hair or certain parts of their head. As much as it broke her heart, she knew she had to ask the girl.
The girl nodded.
Zephyr gave her a soft, encouraging smile. “You’ve got such beautiful hair. Do you know what you want me to do with it?”
The girl shook her head.
Zephyr lifted her blond locks to the side of her face, keeping her eyes off the bruise. Someone had beat up the little angel in the worst way, and Zephyr wanted to find the bastard, drown him in a bathtub and throw her hairdryer in.
She locked eyes with the girl’s gray ones in the mirror across her. “What do you think? I’ll cut it like this so it’s all feathery and falls right here, hmm?”
The girl’s jaw trembled, but she nodded.
Zephyr got to work, adjusting her chair and moving the portable sink behind her head, giving the girl’s hair a quick wash. Massaging the pressure points on her scalp to give her some relief, Zephyr chattered away, telling the nameless girl what she was doing every step of the way, talking about different nerves in the head, seeing her relax at the sound of her voice. She never asked her anything personal, having learned early on that the survivors didn’t talk unless they wanted to. Once she was done and her hair was clean, she wrapped a towel around her head and straightened her chair.
Zen joined her on the side, removing the portable sink.
“You’re about to be blown away, honey,” Zen told the girl, taking a seat. “You know about Cinderella?”
The girl nodded as Zephyr took off the towel, getting her scissors and comb ready.
Zen took over the conversation. “Zee is like the fairy godmother. You’ll feel so new after she’s done. Look at all that beautiful blond hair!”
God, she loved her sister, and how she genuinely cared so much, the way she hyped people up into believing in themselves.
She got to work, and after almost twenty minutes, she was very pleased. The girl’s entire look had changed, a sleek bob falling against her jaw, feathery side bangs adding a feminine flair to the style, making her gray eyes pop.
“You like it?” Zephyr asked, happy to see her work bring something to the young girl’s eyes.
“Yes,” the girl whispered, speaking for the first time, her eyes taking in her own face. She locked eyes with Zephyr’s in the mirror, telling her so much more with one look than her words ever could have. Zephyr gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. “You look beautiful.”
The girl wiped a tear away and sat straighter. She gave Zen a nod, and they left.
As Zephyr cleaned up the station, she thought about the look in the young girl’s eyes. That look was exactly the reason Zephyr spent hours on her weekends in this place, even though her fingers hurt in the end, even though she went home and cried afterward some days that hit hard. But every second of it was worth it.
“Mrs. Villanova.”
The feminine voice came from behind her. She turned around to see Jasmine, one of the girls she’d given a makeover a long time ago. She remembered her because of the brand she’d had on her face back then, a brand she’d covered with a floral tattoo, making the line of her jaw a work of art.
“Jasmine?”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You remember me?”
“Of course,” Zephyr smiled, checking out how different she looked compared to the last time she’d seen her. “You look good,” she complimented the other woman. “Wait, how did you know I’m Mrs. Villanova now?”
Jasmine plopped down in the vacant chair in front of her. “I’m one of Alpha’s sentinels. Victor told me you’d moved in. I thought it was time I introduced myself properly.”
Wait she was the same Jasmine he’d been talking about the other day? Small world.
The young woman eyed Zephyr. “Victor also told me you’d been left alone.”
Zephyr slumped. She hadn’t slept well in nights, she had a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch, her period was about to come, and her emotional well-being was unwell. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her husband because she was too tired to dredge up being pissed. She sifted her hands through Jasmine’s hair just for something to do.
“There was an incident last year,” Jasmine spoke quietly since there were others in the vicinity, watching her in the mirror. “He broke a girl’s hip by accident during… well while he was with her. He hadn’t been with anyone since.”
Zephyr paused, listening intently. He’d severely hurt a woman. That was why he never went full-throttle with her. He didn’t want to let the beast out again. God, his protective streak must have been driving him mad. It all made sense.
“Why are you telling me this?” Zephyr asked the other woman, curious.
“Because I owe you,” Jasmine stated, her eyes fierce. “I don’t know why you married him, but I felt like I should give you a heads-up. He’s entered one of the big fight tournaments, and he’s not done that in a few years. The fact that he’s been in the arena for nights in a row instead of being home with you says something.”
“That he wants to avoid me?”
“Exactly. And Alpha Villanova is many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.”
Jasmine hopped down from the chair. “Just some food for thought.”
Zephyr looked down at the ring on her finger, at the ring he had brought her right before he’d withdrawn, and decided she needed to do the heavy legwork again. Just one last try.
Stupid heart.
She wrapped up her volunteering time at SLF, giving her sister a hug, and exited the building to find Victor on the phone, leaning against the car.
“Take me to him,” she demanded and the young man looked up at her in surprise.
“Eh,” he hesitated. “He’s at a fight tonight.”
“I know. Take me or I’ll go myself.” She glided into the SUV. Victor finished his call and got in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.
“Does he fight often?” she quizzed the one guy she’d made her friend on this side. Owing to the fact that she spent the most time with Victor being her security detail, it only seemed logical to her. Plus, she knew from previous experience that he was susceptible to her interrogations.
Victor smoothly swerved right towards the industrial area. “No. Usually, it’s only when he’s got some pent-up energy. He used to be on the streets fighting every night when we were younger, but he’s not been in the big arena for a few years.”
“But he’s been fighting for the last week?” She wanted to confirm.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake stop calling me that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ugh.
Victor pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse, moving his chin towards it. “That’s the location.”
Cool. She ushered him out of the car for a few seconds, and quickly undid her bra. Usually, she wouldn’t leave her boobs free, since they needed the support, but she needed to push him over the edge. Undoing her hair, she fluffed it up with her fingers to give them a just-rolled-out-of-bed look, adjusted her bangs, and made sure her blue top showed a little cleavage. Climbing out of the car, she tucked it into her jean shorts, glad she’d chosen the fishnets for the day, and hitched her cute white backpack on.
“Let’s go.”
Victor led her to the largest warehouse on the block, and the closer they got, the louder the cheering came from the inside, much louder than that first fight she’d seen.
She was kind of excited to see him in his element. He’d never let her come to a fight a decade ago, told her it wasn’t a place for a girl like her. They’d met in the dark parking lots, much like the one she was walking through, and they’d—
“Seems like a big fight tonight,” Victor murmured, breaking her train of thought.
Zephyr shook herself to clear her head, and focused on the present.
They entered, and right off the bat, she knew it was a much, much bigger fight. For one, the warehouse interior was converted into some kind of fighting ring, the middle being one of those elevated squares with the ropes that she didn’t know the names of. For another, there was a much, much bigger and more elite crowd this time. Mostly men, and a few women, sat around the ring in chairs on one side, roped off from the other crowd that was cheering. There were more bouncers positioned in the corners, this time with weapons, and a guy taking bets on the players.
Victor led her to an empty chair up front and sat her down. From her place, she wasn’t even ten feet from the ring.
An announcer jumped in the ring, raising both arms to silence the crowd.
“Ladies and gentleman!” his voice boomed through the large space. “Welcome to the preliminary fight of the season! Our first match, between the man famous for slicing his opponents down one cut at a time, the man who trains the best fighters on his continent, all the way from Russia, ladies and gentleman, the Ravager!”
Zephyr watched as a surprisingly good-looking, tall, shirtless man with ice-blond hair calmly jumped in the ring, his muscles well-defined, a platinum wedding band shining on his left hand. He looked at the spectators, still, almost as if he was bored, his light eyes taking in everything. “And from the Riviera, slaughtering his opponents, Hellhound!”
Jeez, who even came up with these names?
A lean, spry boy who looked in his early twenties jumped up, smiling and waving to the crowd.
The announcer rang the bell and stepped back.
The Hellhound guy put some kind of connected punching thing on his knuckles, and came at the Ravager, who ducked, got the boy’s neck in a chokehold, and broke it, all within five seconds flat.
Zephyr gasped as the boy dropped to the ring dead, her hands going to her mouth. The crowd went wild, money exchanged hands. Two bouncers picked the boy up and took him away.
Just like that.
Dead.
The boy was dead.
She tugged at Victor’s sleeve. “What just happened? What kind of a fight is this? This didn’t happen last time!”
Victor shook his head. “That was a local fight. They can go whichever way. This is international. Death makes the most money.”
“And Alpha’s been… fighting these death matches? Killing his opponents?”
Victor laughed. “Why do you think he’s still breathing? They don’t call him The Finisher for nothing.”
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Knowing he fought was one thing, but seeing it. God, she was going to throw up.
Zephyr put her head between her knees and breathed deeply, her hands shaking, questions that had been swirling in her mind for weeks crashing through her head. Was she truly out of her depth with him? Had pulling him into the marriage to love him again been a mistake? Would he ever even be able to love now after so many years of walking these dark streets?
For the first time since she’d found him again, Zephyr felt more unsure about her own decision than certain. She saw darkness, she knew darkness existed, she tried to help those who survived through it, but she didn’t belong to it. In her heart, she was light, in so many ways still untainted by the brutalities that existed in the world, and she was grateful for that.
What the hell was she doing?
“Zee?”
Oh god, not now. Not when she was on the verge of a massive anxiety attack.
She exhaled and straightened as Alec, her cheating ex, took a seat at her side, his handsome face creasing in confusion at seeing her there, his eyes dropping to her boobs.
God, she was an idiot.
“You know this guy?” Victor asked, his hand going to the gun on his hip, ready to remove him.
Zephyr sighed. “Yes. Go away, Alec,” she told her ex, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the ring.
She felt his fingers brush her burgundy hair. “Nice color. I heard you’re Villanova’s whore these days.”
Wife, but she didn’t correct him, well-aware of how Alec operated. He goaded her into giving him attention and took it as an opening, so Zephyr ignored him.
“He knows how good you suck a cock?”
He was just asking for a reaction, and she grit her teeth, keeping her head straight ahead. He tugged at her strand. “I love you, Zee. I miss your tight little body. Come to the back with me.”
God, she couldn’t believe she’d been with this toad for two years. Had he always been this slimy?
The announcer jumped on again, clapping for silence. “Our last prelim match, ladies and gentlemen,” his voice boomed again, “is between last year’s champion, the Kraken of Killroy, and the notorious one-eyed beast, our very own, The Finisher!”
Zephyr watched with concentration as last year’s champion, a large dark-skinned man jumped on the stage and into the ring, bouncing on his feet and shaking his muscles loose, his demeanor confident, his intent focused.
And then, her husband, no, the Finisher got in the ring.
She’d never seen him like that.
Zephyr held her breath, her hands fisting on her thighs as she watched him walk to the center as he did, fixing the tape around his hands. He wore a bandana around his forehead, probably to keep his longish hair away from his face, his massive body and its marks exposed to every naked eye in the room, only clad in black gym shorts. She wondered how he fought with just one eye, how he made up for the disadvantage with his perfect-visioned opponent.
Alpha cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and looked up, his eye coming to her.
She saw the surprise on his face at seeing her there, followed by something very, very dark as his eye went to Alec at her side, who she’d completely forgotten about. She saw his jaw clench, his fingers flex again, his eye taking in every detail of her seated body before lingering on the hand Alex had on her hair.
Alpha loved her hair.
Her heart in her throat, Zephyr watched as he turned to his opponent when the bell rang. Her entire body felt tight, on edge, as if she was about to fall down a very high, very steep cliff.
The announcer went off with the ring, and the match began.
The men circled each other, both observing but not making a move. The Kraken took out a knife, ducked to the right before suddenly going left, in Alpha’s blind spot, and swiped at him, slicing his chest.
Zephyr gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white, her body shaking from the adrenaline she could feel flooding her system on his injury.
Alpha didn’t even react to the cut, just turned and did a body roll on the ground, landing on his feet in an agile movement. The Kraken turned with him, never letting him get to his back. He swiped again but missed as Alpha kicked him hard in the stomach, the force of which sent him staggering back. The Kraken recovered, shaking it off, and coming at Alpha again, angered, and the Finisher took a hold of his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back as he positioned himself behind the Kraken. With his free hand, he caught the other wrist of the hand holding the knife and brought it to the Kraken’s neck.
Zephyr watched, both enthralled and aghast, as he turned them to face her, making sure she was watching.
She couldn’t look away if she tried.
And keeping their gazes locked, he sliced the man’s throat open, inch by inch.
The crowd went wild around her, chanting his name, yelling words that were all a buzz in all the blood rushing through her ears.
She kept watching, unable to move.
Alpha stepped away from the body, letting it drop down, his chest and arms covered in sweat and blood, and his eye on her. Knife in his hand, he jumped off the ring, searing her with his intensity to the point breathing became difficult, and strode toward her.
She tilted her head back as he stepped between her legs, close enough that her chin touched his thigh. He raised the knife and her eyes widened, not understanding what was happening.
Finally, he broke their gaze, his eye shifting to the side.
Zephyr turned to see Alec frozen in his seat, the knife under the wrist of his hand that had touched her hair, the edge of the blade pressing on it until she could see a line of blood break the skin.
“It’s going to be your neck the next time I see you near my wife,” Alpha growled softly. “Are we clear?”
Alec swallowed and nodded.
“Then fuck off.”
The blade came to her chin then, almost like his fingers always did, directing her focus back to himself.
“Who am I?” he demanded quietly, her face level with his waist, her eyes enraptured with his.
“What?”
“Who. Am. I?”
She swallowed. “My husband.”
The unscarred side of his mouth lifted but the amusement didn’t reach his eye. Before she could take another breath, he gathered her hair in his free hand, gripping it in the way that made her scalp singe with sensation. The blade traveled down from her chin, and her breath hitched, her body in flux of sensations at the confusing signals as it went down her neck, down the slope of her heaving chest, coming to rest in her cleavage.
“And who are you?”
Her mouth parted. “Your wife.”
He let the knife travel down the slope of her right breast to her peaked nipple, slapping it with the width of the blade, and she gasped, heat spreading through her body, pooling between her legs.
“Mine.”
With that one word, she was destroyed, decimated, done for, every cell in her body sizzling at the very public, very dominating claiming of her.
To drive the point home, even more, he threw the knife to the side, bent down, hauled her over his shoulder, tilting her world upside down once again.
