Phoenix's Revenge

2.

Phoenix POV

I spend time in my room. My mind reeling.

He's so hot

No, he's dangerous.

Hot.

He could kill me in my sleep.

That's hot.

Good lord.

I'm hungry.

And thirsty.

Shut up.

I walk downstairs to get some ice cream. I only wear a black sports bra with some spandex, forgetting that we have a guest. I reach the fridge and open it.

I feel a presence behind me. It's not hard to feel.

"I thought I told you not to touch me." I snap.

I turn and walk past the large figure.

"We never discussed a time to get married." He says lazily. He's wearing gray sweats and no shirt. His entire chest and torso are covered in tattoos and thick, jagged scars.

I shamelessly check him out. He's going to be my husband after all, right?

"Do you always check people out so blatantly?" A smirk crawls his way into his features.

"Life's short." I shrug. "I don't care when we get married. Set a date and I'll be there." I turn to leave and he catches my arm.

"Don't make walking out on me a habit." He growls. His voice taking a commanding tone. His eyes stare into mine, daring me to challenge him.

Bet.

"Men have died for saying something like that to me." I use his words against him.

I stare back and rip my hand from his grip.

"Where are my manners? Make yourself at home, Nikolai. Feel free to do anything. Like go fuck your self."

His phone rings as he decides what to do.

I take the advantage and turn to walk back up to my room.

...

Nikolai POV

She's interesting.

And something about her is so goddamn familiar.

That mouth will get her in trouble, though. I don't do well with disrespect.

Growing up with my father, disrespect wasn't an option. Wasn't even a thought.

Just as I'm about to slam her against the wall, my phone rings. She slips from my grip and walks upstairs in those little fucking shorts.

I wanna rip them off of her.

I'd be lying if I said that watching her stitch her own leg without so much as a grimace was the hottest thing I've seen. The fact that blood covered her body and she didn't care. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was full of defiance.

Not to mention the little trick with the knife.

I wanna hear her scream.

My phone rings again.

"What?" I snap.

"Jesus bro, chill out. Just calling to make sure they hadn't killed you." My younger brother Thomas.

"I'm fine."

"Always such a fucking grump." He wines. "Is she hot?" I hang up.

Idiot.

Why is she so familiar?

I'll find out.

I walk down the hall to the spare room in the house. I place my gun on the night stand and sit on the bed.

I pull my phone out and dick around.

Insomnia sucks.

In this business, it's hard not to have it. You see and do things that will be ingrained in your mind forever.

Sometimes things are done to you.

I jump up and grab my gun when a scream rings through the house. I quietly pad up the stairs.

It's coming from her room.

I make myself unseeable in the hallway as I watch a man who's room is right by hers run in.

There's a rustle for a minute and then the man speaks.

"Kiddo, you have to tell someone about what happened to you. This will only get worse." She mumbles something and the door swings back open. She makes her way down the stairs and freezes. She turns directly towards where I am and we lock eyes. For the first time, I notice a faint scar that starts just above her eyebrow. It travels down her face and disappears under her chin. Her eyes flicker down and she runs a hand through her long hair and continues down.

She throws open the front door and walks out.

Huh.

Why does she make me want to hurt whoever did that?

I shove the feelings aside and stick the gun back in my waist band. I head to my room and fall on the bed.

Who is she?