Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) (2 page)

She tossed her head back and roared with sarcastic laughter, “I’d rather sleep in one of the dumpsters outback than spend the night with you.”

“That’s harsh don’t you think?” he asked. The rejection was painful.

As much as the pained expression on his face tugged at her heart as she fought the burning desire to surrender to his suggestion, her shields had moved into place and her armor stood carefully erected. Narrowing her eyes, she scowled. “You’d know. Cruelty is after all
your
middle name.”

He dropped his eyes to the ground and moved in closer. “I never meant to be cruel. All I wanted was to give you time.”

“I didn’t need time you sorry ass excuse for a man, all I needed was you to be there for me, but instead you left me to deal on my own.
 
In my books that makes you a coward.”

Considering her words as if they hadn’t already crossed his own mind, he quietly said, “Be that as it may, you need somewhere to stay and I have an extra room. I’ll keep a distance, I promise I won’t bother you and I’ll drop you off here tomorrow. Let me do this one thing for you.”

Though there was no way in hell she was about to admit that she didn’t want to be alone, and deep in the recesses of her heart there lay a spot that still stirred when his name was mentioned or she allowed herself the fleeting pleasure of thinking of him, she considered his offer. “Tonight only and you stay away from me.”

“Agreed,” he put out a hand offering a good-hearted shake of friendship. Mikala glared down at his hand, turning her back and stormed barefoot to his truck. He would have laughed if he wasn’t in fear of her tearing off his arm and beating him to death with it.

Not long after her dramatic retreat, he climbed into the truck and handed her the shoes she had been waiting for. She gave him a fleeting smile of thanks and stared out the passenger window the entire way to his apartment.

He held the door open as she stepped inside and peered around the loft conversion. It was like stepping back in time, as if the eight months they had been apart had vanished. Even his shoes sat in the same spot at the door with his i-pod and ear buds tucked inside, along with his ratty old red sox cap that she detested. Nothing had changed and it tore at her soul to remember the happy times, the times that they couldn’t get back.

“Do you need anything, sugar?”

“Yeah, I need you to stop calling me sugar and one of your t-shirts.”

Mason was never an emotional man at the best of times, but she could see the guilt that he felt sitting hidden just beyond his stare, she knew it was there and knew it well. To put him out of his misery would be the best thing for all. Mikala just couldn’t manage the forgiveness card so soon, not after all she’d suffered, alone.

“I guess suggesting we talk is futile?” he asked, looking at her and seeing only hatred before she turned away. “I’ll get you that t-shirt.”

While he disappeared behind the wall that divided the bedroom from the rest of the loft, Mikala found herself scrutinizing her familiar surroundings. There were memories everywhere. In the stainless steel kitchen tucked into one corner with polished concrete counters and the wine fridge he had put in especially for her. The hot fuchsia colored overstuffed chair he bought for the living room that they made love on too many times to count and the black and white photo that hung over the fireplace of her half hidden profile and fire red hair. He always said her hair was one of her hottest assets, he admittedly told her that it turned him on when he took her from behind with her hair intertwined in his fingers.

“Mik,” his voice snapped her from her reflections. Turning to face him, she brought her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to cover her heated skin.

She took the t-shirt he offered and walked toward the washroom. The partition wall allowed for privacy but conversation could still be accomplished, that was until she turned on the shower and climbed inside. She could hear the low hum of his voice.

“I can’t hear a thing you’re saying,” she called out, closing her eyes and leaning under the hot spray.

His voice suddenly became very clear as she heard the glass shower door open and he stepped inside. “I said are you ever going to forgive me? Will you ever believe how fucking sorry I am?”

Spinning round, she couldn’t hold back a laugh when she saw him standing half under the rain head fully dressed, right down to his expensive sneakers. “Are you fucking crazy?” she said, pushing her palms against his chest. “Get out of here!”

The man was unmovable, built like a rock and as big as a mountain. His beautiful brown eyes, so often hidden behind aviator style sunglasses were now sad and searching, waiting for her to say something, anything to give him hope.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” his voice melted to a whisper as emotion chocked his vocal cords. “It was as much my loss as yours, sugar. I couldn’t handle it, I couldn’t deal. I didn’t know how.”

“And didn’t give a fuck if I could or not!” Her fist pounded his chest as his arms circled her waist and pulled her to his chest as she continued, “No, you ran away, you took the easy way out. How could you just walk off the day we bury our little boy, how?”

“I fucked up,” Mason tipped up her chin with his finger waiting to see tears but her eyes were icy cold, void of emotion as they narrowed and she wriggled free from his hold. “Mik…please,”

“Yeah, you did fuck up and it’s too late to apologize. I’m over it and over you.” Her slick body slid past his. She took his fluffy robe from its place on the back of the door, like she had done a million times before, and slipped it on. “Goodnight,” she snapped.

Mason didn’t bother to speak. It was far beyond obvious that Mikala wanted nothing to do with him. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and take it all back to the beginning when they had met, to happier times before his stupidity had ruined it all.

Lying awake, knowing that she was asleep in the hideaway bedroom on the other side of the loft just one floor above him, he loudly exhaled. He stared up at the railing across the room at her foot dangling over the beds edge. She liked her feet in the cool air when she slept, summer or winter it didn’t matter. He wished those feet were sharing his bed tonight.

Sadly, his memories were all he had now, it would take a miracle to turn her head again and convince her to take him back. Miracles didn’t happen for Mason, only moments of happiness, then tragedy before mayhem moved in and took over.

He rolled onto his back, pillowed his hands under his head and closed his eyes, losing himself in thoughts of cheerier times.

Her hair was the first thing that caught his eye. He’d never really been attracted to a redhead before, that was until he got a load of those full red tinted lips of hers. She reminded him of a 60’s pin up girl he often thought of having tattooed on his bicep. She was the hottest thing on legs, a real woman, with full round breasts and swinging sexy hips and as she crossed the dance floor of Pulse Night Club walking towards him, a smile curled his lips.
 
He could feel his cock thicken with each step she took, he had to take a deep breath and remind himself he was there on business.

“Well hello, sunshine,” she said, holding out a hand. His hand wrapped over hers so tiny and fragile, that he feared he’d break her, “I’m Mikala, what can I do for you today?”

“I’m looking for Eden Fox,” He held up a large manila envelope. “I have a delivery from Dean Construction, is she around?”

“She’s in the apartment at the top of the stairs, you can’t miss it,” Mikala pointed to a door.

“Thanks, sugar.” He winked and smiled, finding it hard to tear away, but he had business of a personal nature to attend to for his friend Chase.

It was weeks later when he saw her again. They had shared some terrible coffee from a machine at the hospital while his best friend Chase, and her best friend Eden, had more personal affairs to attend to. He was happy for the opportunity to see her again and wasted no time asking her out. Even though she had turned him down because it was too difficult to date when she had a club to run, he had talked her into spending the evening at Pulse and once the doors had closed at 2am, their official first date started.

Since it was so late or early, in any case, he brought dessert in the form of two buttercream frosted cupcakes and a bottle of Inniskillin Riesling Ice-wine, one of her favorites he was told by Eden. While she changed into jeans and a simple t-shirt (she could have worn a burlap sack and made it look great) he laid out a plaid blanket on the dance floor, as if it were a picnic lunch. She smiled appreciatively and told him it was the best date she could have imagined. The date ended with them lying back and imagining that the light bulb ceiling was a sky filled with stars, and they made out until Carl came in to start prep for the next night.

It was becoming more and more difficult to combine their time. But Mason was more than happy to suffer a bit of sleep deprivation to be with her. Mikala brought in an assistant to help run the place, so a few hours on weekends and a few nights each week were freed up, to Mason’s relief. Much of the time was spent at his dilapidated loft.

Quietly he rose from his bed and retrieved a beer from the kitchen. He sat in ‘her’ hot pink chair by the huge pane glass window and stared out at the city. Lost in thoughts of how they had spent hours planning out the loft design and how excited she had been when he had mentioned the window. It was designed so that they could see out, but the outside world could not see in. He smiled. She had joked often about window sex that never happened, far too nervous of the glass giving way while he pushed her against it. He tittered to himself and turned sharply as a throat cleared behind him.

Mikala was standing watching him.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked, shivering as she closed her arms over her chest.

“You’re cold, come sit,” he said, scooting over and patting the cushion to his side. Hesitating momentarily, she gave in and sat bringing her knees up to her chin, pulling the t-shirt over them like a tent. He put his arm over her shoulder pulling her into his side. “Better?”

“Better, thanks.”

“So tell me what’s been going on with this psycho asshole?” he asked, when he was stricken by her acidic lime fragrance, causing his cock to swell as if it knew what it was missing.

Lowering her chin to her knees he watched her profile, the very profile that graced his fireplace.
 
He had taken the photo when she was unaware and had a friend create a one of a kind piece of art. It represented the fire inside her, a black and white still life with the only color being her hair.

The thing that made her sexier in his eyes, was the fact she was a natural red head and instead of shying away and camouflaging it, she wore bright red lipstick and avoided the sun so her skin remained alabaster and flawless, which emphasized it all the more. His lips curled into a smile as he visualized the tiny runway strip of red hair that graced her pubic area and her tiny soft pink nipples that used to tighten to sweet beads when their eyes met.

“Like I said, there are letters that come at least once a week. This idiot meticulously cuts each letter out of magazines and glues them onto red paper. They can’t be traced, and I once got a dozen headless rose stems delivered,
that
made me laugh actually.”

“Can I see the letters sometime?” Mason asked.

“I don’t have them, the cops have them,” Mikala said, “There are no finger prints if that’s what you’re looking for. I was told that the glue and paper are standard grade and can be bought anywhere. There are absolutely no clues as to who this asshole is and not a witness to see a thing.”

“What about security footage?” he asked.

Her sudden laughter had him baffled, how could she find any of this funny he wondered.

“The cameras that do work show nothing, they’re set up at all the entrances and halls but so many people come and go in a day that it could be anyone.”

His shoulders shrugged. “Then we up security. We bring in a few new bouncers and an overnight guy.”

Her head plopped heavily on his shoulder. “Sunshine, you forget there is no ‘we’ and funds are at a minimum, I can’t afford more security.”

A sting nipped at his heart, he wasn’t looking for another reminder of what an ass he had been. “Got it,” he pretended to scribble on his forehead. “Indelibly written, no ‘we’ I won’t forget next time.”

He rose and padded barefoot over to the floor to ceiling window and leaned into it with his forehead pressed against the cold pane, his eyes focusing on the ground below. Regret was the cruelest emotion to deal with and the easiest to understand, but the length of time it took to get over it was unbearable, if he could ever truly manage to.

Mason pushed away from the glass and talked as he walked toward his room. “If you need anything you know where to find me.”

As he strolled past her with a sad mopey look on his face, Mikala took a deep breath and pushed her vision to the lit windows of the buildings that surrounded them. She craved distance and intimacy at the same time. Wanting to run out into the night to get as far away as possible, yet wishing to crawl into Mason’s bed and hide beneath him, the chaos screamed in her head was killing her.