Breath On Broken Glass
1042 Words
Chapter 3: Breath on Broken Glass
Elara didn’t sleep.
He sighed. Reached into the console. Pulled out a thick envelope. Tossed it onto the asphalt between them.
“Cash. Three months’ rent. Plus a little extra for… inconvenience.”
She stared at it like it might bite.
“Take it,” he said. “Or don’t. Either way, you’re not disappearing. Not today.”
She kicked the envelope. It skidded under her car.
Scar shrugged. Window went up.
She got back in her car. Hands shaking so badly she could barely shift gears.
She drove to the only place she could think of that felt safe: Lila’s loft in the warehouse district. Lila answered the door in paint-splattered overalls, hair in a messy knot, brush still in hand.
“Jesus, El. You look like death f****d you and forgot the lube.”
Elara pushed past her. Locked the door. Leaned against it.
“Tell me everything,” Lila said, already moving to the kitchen. “And don’t skip the parts where you’re stupid.”
Elara told her. The warehouse. The flash. The kiss on her counter. The envelope. The SUV.
Lila listened without interrupting. When Elara finished, she handed her a mug of coffee that smelled like motor oil.
“You kissed him back.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Bullshit.”
Elara stared into the black liquid. “He’s dangerous.”
“No shit.” Lila sat across from her. “But you’re not running. Why?”
Because part of her the rotten, starved part wanted to see how far he’d go. Wanted to know if the darkness in his eyes matched the one she carried. Wanted to feel something sharp enough to cut through the numbness she’d lived with since her father’s funeral.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Lila reached across the table. Squeezed her wrist. “Then let’s get you out of here. My cousin’s got a cabin upstate. No signal. No cameras. We leave now.”
Elara almost said yes.
Almost.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Unknown number.
She stared at it like it was a live wire.
Lila snatched it before she could stop her. Read the text aloud.
Unknown: Motel 6 on Route 9. Room 14. One hour. Come alone or I will come get you. D
Lila’s face hardened. “We’re not going.”
Elara took the phone back. Fingers numb.
“I have to.”
“No. You really f*****g don’t.”
But she was already standing.
Lila grabbed her arm. “El. Look at me. This isn’t a book. This is real. He’s not going to turn into some tortured prince who fixes everything with his magic dick.”
Elara laughed. The sound cracked. “I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because if I don’t go, he’ll come here. And I won’t let him touch you.”
Lila’s grip tightened. Then released.
“Take my pepper spray. And this.” She pressed a small switchblade into Elara’s palm. “Stab first, ask questions never.”
Elara tucked it into her sock.
The drive to Route 9 felt like falling.
The motel was the kind of place people checked into to disappear. Peeling turquoise paint. Vacancy sign flickering like a dying heartbeat. Room 14 door stood ajar.
She pushed it open with her foot.
Damien sat on the edge of the bed in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Forearms corded with muscle and faint white scars. He looked up when she entered. No surprise. Just that slow, predatory satisfaction.
“Close the door,” he said.
She did. Didn’t lock it.
He stood. Moved toward her in that liquid way of his.
She backed up until her shoulders hit the door.
“You came,” he murmured.
“I want you to leave me alone.”
He stopped inches away. Reached past her. Clicked the lock.
“No.”
His hand slid to her waist. Not rough. Not gentle. Just… there. Possessive.
She shoved at him. “I said no.”
He caught her wrists. Pinned them above her head against the wood. Leaned in until his mouth brushed her ear.
“You say no a lot.” His voice was low, amused. “But your body says something else.”
She felt it then the traitorous heat pooling low in her belly. The way her thighs pressed together instinctively.
“f**k you,” she breathed.
He chuckled against her throat. “Soon.”
Then he kissed her again.
Harder this time. Angrier. Teeth clashing. Tongue claiming. She fought him bit his lip until she tasted copper. He growled, pressed his hips forward so she felt how hard he was. Thick. Insistent.
She arched away. Or tried to. His free hand slid under her hoodie. Palm flat against her stomach. Skin on skin. Burning.
“Stop,” she gasped when he broke the kiss.
He didn’t.
Instead he dragged his mouth down her neck. Bit the spot where pulse hammered. Sucked hard enough to bruise.
Her knees buckled.
He caught her. Lifted her like she weighed nothing. Carried her to the bed. Dropped her onto the thin mattress.
She scrambled back.
He followed. Knees bracketing her hips. Hands planted on either side of her head.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
She did. Tears pricking. Rage. Want. Shame.
“I’m not going to force you,” he said quietly. Almost tender. “But I’m not going to stop until you admit what you want.”
“I don’t want this.”
“Liar.”
He rocked his hips once. Slow. Deliberate. The friction sent sparks behind her eyes.
She whimpered.
“There it is,” he whispered.
His hand slid down. Cupped her through her jeans. Pressed. Rubbed in slow circles.
She bucked against him before she could stop herself.
“Say no again,” he dared her. “Mean it.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
He smiled. Dark. Triumphant.
Then he kissed her like he was starving.
She kissed him back.
Hating herself.
Hating him.
Needing more.
Outside, rain started again. Hammering the roof like applause.
Inside, something broke open.
And neither of them knew how to close it.
- Writer
