Her abandoned Beta

Sunny

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*Dion*

I remember our first kiss as though it had been delivered only minutes ago instead of years. It had been as brief as the blink of an eye, and yet I had felt as though my lips had been branded by hers.

I had been no stranger to kisses, preferring those that went on for ages, slow and sensual, a feast rather than a nibble. Still, the quick brush of her mouth over mine had rocked me back on my heels, just as her quick jab to my jaw had done moments ago.

Apparently, she is no happier to see me than I am to see her. Not that I am going to let on how much it hurt or angers me to be in her presence after all this time.

With that blade positioned perfectly between two ribs, I am standing as still as death. There is only meat to be pierced and it would give way easily without bone to provide a barrier to its destination. The steel is vibrating ever so slightly, and I can see the barest of trembling in her hand. Part of me is wanting to dare her to finish what she had begun eight years ago, the complete and utter rending of my heart.

Both our breathing is shallow, fraught with tension, as we each take a measure of the other.

I hadn't planned to make my presence known, but neither had I been in a mood to see blood spilled or to wait to intervene until the situation escalated into an altercation that would have required a bit more effort to subdue. Although I had been tempted to hold off, to see how well she might have defended herself in the face of three opponents. But I had spoken the truth. I hadn't liked the odds.

Although she has some power now to her punch that she hadn't when she was younger and had smacked me the day I had arrived to take away her horse. I wonder who has taught her to fight … and know a surge of unwarranted jealousy at the prospect of some faceless man folding his hand over hers and demonstrating how to make a proper fist that is less likely to result in any broken bones.

I wonder if the same person has taught her to wield the rapier. I am impressed with her skill and the confident way in which she is handling the weapon, although being impressed annoys me as much as the memory of our first kiss. I am not going to race through my memories until I remember our last kiss, the one I had thought truly made her mine ... until I had realized too late that it was a lie, like everything that had passed between us.

“Have you been following me ?” She asks, not even attempting to disguise the bitterness in her tone.

I have been, not that I am going to directly admit that to her. I had learned only six weeks ago that she was in the area, and it hadn't taken long to find her once I knew to look. Since then, for reasons I have been unable to explain to myself, I have been keeping a close watch on her, unaccountably curious regarding her reasons for being in this area of Blackrock city.

If I am honest with myself, I also have an unwarranted desire to ensure no harm comes to her. Damn my instincts to protect that have landed me in trouble more than once. “There's a bounty on your head”.

“Yes, I've seen the notices posted by someone my brother hired to return me home. Is it your intention to collect on it ?” She asks.

“Five hundred quid is a lot of blunt”. I point out.

Her voice is a soft growl. “I shall fight you tooth and nail the entire way”.

I ignore the need to take possession of that mouth that speaks with such determination and authority, making it impossible to doubt the words. There is a fierceness to this woman that hadn't existed in the younger version. Oh, she had a temper and had smacked me a time or two, but I suspect she would now use that blade on me without regret. Strange how she is acting the injured party when she is the one who had tossed me aside. Dion's Folly, my brothers had called her. She had lived up to the moniker with a betrayal the depths of which I would have never believed of her.

“I haven't decided what I'm going to do about you. What are you doing here, Summer ?” I had intended to keep my voice neutral and yet I had been unable to prevent my last word from being filled with the disgust I harbor toward her.

Her answer is a digging of the tip of the rapier more pointedly into me. I feel a prick, and believe she might have actually drawn blood. Not that I will let my surprise show on my face. I move not a single muscle, at least not visibly, although every part of me is tense, ready to spring into action if need be.

“Stay clear of me”. She orders.

“Or you'll what ?” I ask.

Another hard press. This time she definitely breaks skin.

“Go ahead”. I dare. “Run me through”.

“Don't think I'm not tempted”. She growls.

In one swift fluid movement, I bring my arm up, knock the rapier aside, close my hand around her wrist, and snag the other when she brings it forward in defense. I shove both her arms behind her back, manacle her wrists together with one strong hand, grab her shoulder with the other, and jerk her forward until her breasts are pressed to my chest, her head bowing back as far as she can take it.

Bringing her this close is a hell of a mistake. Her coat has flared out on one side and the hardened peak of her n****e pokes my chest where my own coat has parted with my movements, creating a small expanse where I can feel the warmth of her, triggering memories of when the entire n***d length of her had warmed me. My body reacts as though she has spread herself out over a bed, inviting me to seduce and conquer. I want to torment her as she has tormented me all those many long years

ago. “Once you were old enough, neither of us seemed to have any restraint when it came to temptation”.

*Summer*

I shouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of my earlier position, but it all had been a bluff. I can no more kill him than I can cease to breathe. And not because I have never killed anyone, but because he is Dion. While he is responsible for so much pain, there was a time when he had been responsible for my most ultimate joy.

Now I can barely stand to be this near to him, I should have despised inhaling the familiar fragrance of him. After what he had done to me, how can I still take pleasure in the wonderful dark, rich, leathery scent of him ?

Questions hover on the tip of my tongue, questions I will not give him the satisfaction of asking.

What had I done to turn him against me ? Why hadn't he come for her as he had promised ? But it no longer matters why he had abandoned me. Too much time has passed. I am no longer the girl I had been. His answers won’t change the past, and won't change me or my plans for the future. “Release me”.

I can see the anger burning low in his eyes, my words a spark to kindling that will soon be ablaze. He somehow manages to snuff out the flames, his grin slow in coming but devastating when it reaches completion. Bold, and wicked, teasing, filled with promises of pleasure … if I would but succumb. “I think not. You drew blood. There's a price to be paid for that”.

“There's always a price to be paid with you, isn't there ?” Eight years ago, we had made plans to run off together, to leave everything behind and he hadn't shown. He had left me languishing, heartsore and devastated, with tears streaming down my face. “I paid for it once. I'll not pay it again”.

His smile disappears, his brow furrows, his eyes narrow. His hold loosens only a fraction, his hips sways back slightly, but enough. Unhampered by petticoats as they are no longer a luxury I can afford, I jerk my knee upward with all the force I can muster, feel his soft bollocks giving way to my hard bone, and crumble him with one whack.

Grunting with pain and gasping for air, he drops to all fours, his strangling sound giving me a sense of satisfaction that horrifies me on one level because I take such pleasure in it.

Snatching up my rapier from where it has fallen and sheathing it back into its scabbard, I am surprised to note my hands have all their feeling. He hasn’t been holding me as tightly as I thought, hasn’t harmed me. Perhaps I would have taken pity on him now if he hadn't devastated me years ago.

“Steer clear of me”. I order before spinning on my heel and marching toward the entrance to the street.

“Sunny !” He rasps.

I nearly turn back around, nearly go to him to comfort and ensure I haven’t caused any permanent damage. Instead I carry on. “Don't call me that”. I snap over my shoulder, my voice echoing between the buildings. He had given me that particular pet name and he alone has ever used it, his quiet, intimate tone always making it sound like a cherished endearment, back when I had thought I meant everything to him.