Phoenix Broken (21 page)

"Come on, angel. Try and take me out." Scott was crouching, his thighs parallel to the ring, ready to rush as soon as she moved out of the corner. His dismissive confidence pissed her off.
Not cocky, my ass.

Instead of trying to dodge him, she pounced. Straight up, using his stance against him.

Her foot landed firmly on his thigh, toes getting purchase on his skin as she stood up on his leg for the barest second. Whirling, she threw her body round in a tight spin. Her whole weight flew out into the kick, her heel catching the soft spot beneath his chin. Scott spun across the ring and face first into the ropes.

An ear-splitting whistle from Alcide made her lips twitch.

Scott grunted. For a second she could've swore she saw a flash of approval before he grabbed at the ropes. Then he shoved up, ignoring both her smile and the hand she held out.

"What's wrong? Don't want help from the woman who knocked your ass down?" She teased.

"Your ass would've been down for the count before this fight even started if we'd been playing for keeps and you know it."

True enough, but her smile faded.

"Fine, be a dick." She shrugged, turning her back on him, tugging at the laces on her gloves with her teeth. Scott wasn't done.

"And I'll never accept a hand up from someone just as likely drop me back on my ass."

She turned slow.
"What?"

"You heard me. I can't trust you, Desdemona," his face was hard. "But you better have my back tonight. No funny business. Whatever is going on in your precious Guido's club, it could be damn dangerous." He had no idea how true that was. She scowled.

"Do
you
even know what's going on there? All of it? Or has Miles kept you out of that loop, too?"

He didn't reply.

“You know he doesn’t tell you the truth about everything! But with him, that's ok?"

"You admit you're not telling me everything?"

She tore at her gloves while glaring at him. "That’s not the point, genius. And when it comes to you and my powers, I'm honest."

"The kind of honest you’re being with Calimente?"

"That's not your business."

Scott snorted, but she could tell he was seething. "Evading yet again. Which you do every time his name comes up. No matter what you say, I think you're damn suited to this cloak and dagger shit. Miles chose well.”

Her mouth fell open. “He didn’t choose, he
forced.
Don't you know what Rousseau is?"
she said quietly.
"What he's capable of? Yet, you swallow every line he feeds you!"
At least about me.

"No, I don't, Des. This isn't about Miles, though, it's about you. I know you're hiding something."

Des stepped forward to poke a finger into his chest, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "And you know the truth about your reaction to me, Johnny, don’t you? But you'd rather hear a lie. What kind of incentive does that give me to trust you about anything else?"

She turned away, ripped off her gloves with her teeth, then threw them at Scott. They bounced off his chest, hitting the floor along with the slap of her footsteps.

Nolan raised his eyebrows. "Did she just knock you on your ass, Davidson?"

"In more ways than one." Alcide gave another wolf whistle as he watched her leave. "I really like that demon."

"Shut up." Scott whirled, tearing off his own gloves and bending to scoop up Desdemona's discarded ones. "You only like her because she's using that demon crap to fuck with you."

The werewolf shot Scott a disbelieving look. "If she wanted to fuck with
me,
bro, I'd let her have at it. Are you blind, or just stupid?"

"Watch it, wolf boy. Doesn't it bother you that you're being mojo'ed into wanting her? That she can't seem to control that power of hers?"

Alcide exchanged a look with Nolan, who shook his head slightly.
Warningly.

The werewolf shrugged. "She's sexy as fuck, Davidson, but I don't lose my shit around her. Maybe
you're
the one with the control issue."

Alcide's words hit home in ways the wolf could've never imagined. Scott slammed the equipment cabinet door shut and stood there for several long minutes. He'd been edgy since he'd walked in the damn gym. Telling himself over and over to keep his distance, but not sure he was capable of it after last night. Then the first thing he'd seen had been the goddamn wolf drooling over her and her laughing it up. Scott had found himself snapping right back to being an ass.

He'd wanted distance. Well, he sure as fuck had it now.

He'd have to go after her. No way could he allow her to back out of tonight.
Shit.

"Just do the chica already. You'll feel better and so will she." Alcide hesitated at a hiss from Nolan, then shrugged again and continued. "Listen, man, I heard what you went through and that shit… it fucks with you.”

There was a ring to the brittle words that made Scott remember what'd happened to the kid's sister. But it wasn’t the same.

"There are all kinds of loss, kid. Don't pretend to know them all."

"I don't, but one thing I do know is loyalty, better than a human ever could. No offense." Alcide gave a thin smile. "Werewolves mate for fucking life, you know. I may understand you better than you think."

Scott raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the wolf.

"See? Hit, hammer, nail, head. This—between you and the demon—it's just sex, yeah? So have fucking sex. You tell me you're planning on going the rest of your life without dipping your wick?" He raised an eyebrow when Scott didn't reply. "No wonder you're wound so fucking tight. Humans
are
psycho."

"Whatever it is between us, it's bullshit." Scott's words lacked conviction, even to his own ears.

"Maybe it is." Alcide shrugged again. "But bullshit or not, who cares? Get it out of your system. Otherwise we all know you're going to blow. Only question is when, bro."

Scott headed back to the locker rooms without a word. The thought of giving into his desire for Des made his heart pound. One problem stood out above the others. Scott didn't think it would be nearly as easy to fuck her out of his system as the werewolf did.

Finding her wasn't easy either. She wasn't in the women's locker room, or the rest of the training wing. Frustrated, Scott stopped by his own locker, throwing on a T-shirt, a hoodie and some shoes before heading outside.

"… you push at Scott like that again and there’s some around here that might take exception, kid.” Nolan's voice was low, almost a whisper, but Scott caught it on his way back past the slightly ajar gym door. “I might be one of them.”

He didn't stop or slow, but Scott's ears strained despite himself.

"Look, I get you all feel bad for the guy, but—"

"You didn't know him before."

"No, I didn't. And maybe that's a good thing, Nolan. He's got some major shit riding him and you all pussy footing around ain't helping far as I can see. Getting laid may not cure all ills, but it sure as hell can't hurt."

Scott walked out of range of the voices.

The kid was just that, a goddamn kid. What did he know? But Nolan was a good friend and probably the steadiest man he knew—even more so than Gordy—and Scott had heard the concern in his friend’s voice. Did everyone think he was crazy now?

More importantly
, were they right?

He found her finally. Outside. Des sat on the wide flagstone steps that led to the Atrium. Dusk was falling. She'd pulled her hair free of the bun. The heavy fall of golden brown curled over her shoulders, glowing pink at the edges in the dying rays of the sun. It reminded him of the way she had looked last night. So damn beautiful, lying on that bed.

Then he caught a glimpse of her face. Miserable. Tear-streaked. His stomach rolled.

Shit, no.

She jumped up when she heard him, dashing at her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Go away, Johnny."

"Stop calling me that," he said wearily, sinking to the steps she'd just vacated. "It's Scott."

"I don't give a damn what your fucking name is. Just leave me alone. I don't need a bodyguard here. Mags is coming for me. I'll meet you at Centaries like I’m supposed to," her voice was shaking, but it had an edge. "Believe me, I know I can't afford not to."

"We have to work this out, Desdemona." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his White Sox hoodie, unable to meet her still-brimming eyes. "But first… I can't stand seeing a woman cry, angel. Please stop."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Confused, he looked up. He'd expected her to get pissed, or dismiss his words, not question them.

"Why
can't you stand seeing a woman cry?"

He could've evaded. Sidestepped. The truth slipped out before he could do either. "Because the last memory I have of my mom, she's crying. And I can't make her stop."

"Why's she crying?" She'd edged closer. Her eyes were still wet, but intent on his face.

"'Cause of my dad, probably. I don't know for sure, I was too little. But my dad is a pretty safe bet."

"Not a nice guy, your dad?"

He laughed without a drop of humor. "Hell no. What about yours?"

She eyed him warily. "My father wasn't such a bad guy, believe it or not. I mean, he was never exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but he was alright. Well, except with my mom. With her, he was way more than alright. He was…"

"What?"

Des stared off into the last ray of sunlight bleeding over the grounds. "With her, he was different," she said. "Then she died. And I didn't know him anymore. I realized maybe I never had."

Scott swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat, thinking of his own kids and wondering if they would say something similar one day. The thought made him feel empty. Quiet fell between them. The willows around the driveway swished in the growing dusk.

"My dad beat us," Scott said at last, staring at his big hands. Hands that looked a lot like the ones he remembered. And had tried to forget. "A lot. He was bad before she left and worse after."

"She left?' Des seemed to be holding her breath as she sat down beside him. He didn't look at her, just concentrated on the trees in front of them.
Swish.
One willow twisted its branches slightly one way, then the other. The other did the same, except in reverse. Dancing in the night.

Des didn't notice. She was watching his face. Scott's gaze shifted to her.

"Yeah, she did."

"That's awful."

"I don't blame her." He really didn't either. He only wished he knew where she'd gone. "I'd have left if I could. Hell, I did." In a matter of speaking. "Joined the Marines as soon as they'd let me in." Scott sighed, looking down at his hands again. "I was a good man before my wife died, Des."

She stiffened.

He'd never mentioned Fannie to her before, Scott realized. Never once said those words
my wife.

"And now?" Des whispered.

He shrugged. "Believe it or not, I'm trying."

"How's that working out for you?"

"Pretty shitty at the moment. I didn't mean to make you cry." They stared at each other. Des broke eye contact first, looking out at the trees. She frowned as they stilled suddenly, then she looked back at him, her face tight.

"Look, I get that you're feeling pissy about last night. I'm sorry you felt like you had to help me out, but it
was
your choice, Johnny. I don’t think you should blame me for it."

"What?"

"Please." Her voice was dull. "You were ready to explode the instant you set foot in that gym. Obviously, you had second thoughts. Again. Fine. Whatever. But—"

"Me and you in that gym had
nothing
to do with what I—what
we
—did in your bedroom last night."

She looked dumbfounded. "Then why, Johnny?"

"I got
pissy
because the first thing I saw was you flirting with that goddamn werewolf."

"Wait." Her jaw dropped. "You're telling me you're…
jealous
now?"

"I'm being honest. It. Ticked. Me. Off."

Des got to her feet, her tears gone. "Sooooo—I'm a no-good disloyal whore who isn't fit to go to a park with your kids, but it's okay for you to get pissed when another man hits on me?
Omno.
You're insane, Johnny."

Des walked away, her stomach trembling with anger.

Her feet pounded across the long drive that formed a circle at the front of the foundation. Within the circle, a huge, marble statue of a phoenix raising its wings seemed to hover over a fountain, as if ready to take flight. The water splashing around it resembled liquid fire, courtesy of the crimson and orange lights aimed at the pool. It was an elegant, stunning visual—and a bit scary.