Harlyn hasn’t acknowledged me once since dinner started. He's being a brat. A whole ass fucking crybaby and it pisses me off. Why does this guy keep acting like we are dating, and I've crushed his heart under my shoe?

Other than our shared orgasms in bed and the one time I made him come-hands free- we’ve only shared passing touches and snarky comments. I've made my intentions with my distrust in him perfectly clear from the get. He just doesn't get it.

Being pulled into his clutches last night could not be stopped. I couldn’t resist his delicious flavor and pliant body if my life depended on it. And what a fucking body, that is. I groan internally.

The light hit his sweaty skin in all the right places today, while he was training that kid. His scars were on full display, and it was so. Fucking. Hot. His muscles are defined, something I hadn’t expected, hidden under his baggy attire. He’s a literal dream.

The fierce determined look in his eyes as he taught the boy effortlessly was a sight to behold. It's the same serious look he always dons, until he's underneath me and forgoes his inhibitions.

I think that’s why I couldn’t help myself. This small psychopath of a man, turns to goo when I so much as touch him with a finger and it sends sparks to my dick, cutting off my brain.

Not to mention, he loves kids, and kids love him. Fuck him. How can he look like that and love kids, and kids love him?

“How did you know that kid was deaf? I have been trying to communicate with him for weeks on end, with no luck. You recognized it the second you walked in.”

Shaide asks.

Allowing Harlyn to see us openly like that, had not been my idea. Ressyn had a point though, when he said Harlyn had already seen us in a compromising position, and we him.

Harlyn clears his throat but doesn't make eye contact when he responds. “My sister had been deaf. Easy to recognize the signs.”

We all glance at Anya in confusion before he clears the air. “Not Anya. My sister Cami.”

He says quietly, something akin to rage flashing in his eyes.

“What happened to her?”

Kai blurts, ever the dumbasss.

I'm sure he and everyone else are missing the signs of Harlyn's impending discomfort. With his perfect robotic mask in place, it's difficult to see how he forces himself to hold back a flinch or fidget in his seat.

His discomfort slices me open, and I want it to stop.

“Kai!”

He jumps, looking utterly oblivious. It's too late though, Harlyn is already excusing himself to the restroom.

“Harlyn was sent here to protect you.”

Anya breaks the now awkward silence.

Res points to himself bewildered when it's clear she’s addressing him.

“Yes, you.”

“Uh...”

He rubs the back of his neck looking uncomfortable.

I'm on the edge of a cliff waiting for her to spill some more. Sent here to protect Ressyn? From what or who, and why him?

“Protect me from who?”

“Marcus.”

She says simply. No other explanation, like she hasn’t just revealed the information I've been searching for since Harlyn's arrival.

“The mad man I declined on his business proposition?”

“That’s the one.”

She studies her nails and sips her drink while we all exchange a glance.

“He has already said that we will be at war with one another when he officially migrates his business into Array.”

She snorts at that. “Of course he did, but that’s not what I'm referring to.”

“Okay, then what is the point you are attempting to make.”

I clasp my hands over the table and lean in. Sick of the small talk, and her vague ass answers.

Her eyes flick to me and sharpen. “My. Point. Is. Har is not here to harm YOU, or anyone else for that matter. He's doing as he was asked and promised to do.”

“By who?”

Res jumps in, leaning just as close. Her eyes soften for him, making my scowl deepen.

“That I cannot say. I'm speaking for Har, no one else. His loyalty is unwavering in it's intensity. I would appreciate it if he didn’t come home looking like a kicked fucking puppy.”

It's not just her sharp eyes on me anymore, it's everyone’s.

My eye twitch strikes again.

Deciding Harlyn’s been in the restroom for too long, I excuse myself to go find him. Except, when I reach the guest bathroom in the hallway, it's empty.

I start for my bedroom, figuring he's using mine since he never received a proper tour of the place.

The doors locked when I try the handle, and I knock when I don’t hear any movement or sound.

No answer.

“Harlyn, open the door.”

After knocking and being ignored once more, I grab the key from my nightstand drawer and unlock it.

“I'm coming in.”

I have to turn the light on when I enter because I'm met with darkness. Completely unprepared to see Harlyn standing in the middle of the room, shoulders hunched with tears running down his red cheeks. What the hell... He’s breathing rapidly, in short pants.

“Shit.”

I move toward him quickly. “Har...”

It's like he isn’t even looking at me as I stand directly in his line of sight. He doesn't hear me or see me. Seeing no other choice, I lay a hand on his arm. “Har-”

“No!”

My outstretched hand is twisted at an awkward angle behind my back, and I'm slammed against the bathroom counter with a knife to my throat before I can blink. I grunt in pain when he applies pressure to my wrist, the blade pressing into my skin.

“Harlyn, stop...” I croak.

I'm searching his glazed eyes through the mirror as he stands behind me, breathing steadier than he had been moments ago. The strength his small person houses is unbelievable, I couldn’t move if I tried.

He blinks one of those slow blinks that I love and hate so much before giving a small shake of his head. His eyes seem to focus on me. He examines what he's currently doing with horror and drops the knife.

“Oh god!”

He squeaks an adorable sound I didn’t know his scary ass could make.

I'm spun around and surrounded by him all at once. His limbs tangling with mine as he barriers his face in the crook of my neck.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...” He cries.

Seeing him so vulnerable and hurt does something to me. Someone hurt this boy so fucking much, he's ruined. He's an enigma because he makes absolutely no fucking sense. A pretty, composed, and shy boy by day, a chaotic wreck of bloodshed, teeth and knifes by night. His mind is a dangerous place, and I just know if I dive in I wouldn’t return the same.

Feeling his frame tremble against mine has me enveloping him in my arms and cradling his head.

I want to destroy whoever did this to him. I want to surround him in bubble wrap and stuff him somewhere safe when I know I cannot be by his side. He's reckless and impulsive, yet so delicate, the facts do not match.

“Hey... It's okay, I'm okay, everything’s fine...”

I tilt his chin up with a knuckle so I can look at his stunning glassy blue’s. And he is stunning. Even as droplets trail his smooth cheeks, and the hair surrounding his face, goes every direction. Bringing my hands up, I smooth his hair down gently and he leans into the touch.

He continues to chant apologies religiously, so I stick my thumb in his mouth to shut him up. It works, he stares at me stunned for several beats. I take the opportunity to get a word in.

“You were staring at nothing when I came in and crying. Possibly having a panic attack. I just wanted to help.”

He nods in a daze, his tongue now trailing my finger.

His gaze catches on my neck making him gasp. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.”

My thumb falls from his mouth and a delicate finger probes at the small slice of skin. I hiss quietly.

“Harlyn, it's fin-”

My reassurance is cut off when his examination shifts from regret to hunger. Confusion has me wanting to shift on my feet as he sucks the bloody finger into his mouth. My lips part, regarding him with shock.

“Can I kiss you all better, Flower?”

It's my turn to gasp when his hand grasps my jaw to tip my head back. I feel his smooth wet tongue next. It lays flat as he licks the beaded blood there and groans.

He’s so fucking crazy, my mind thinks. He’s so fucking hot, my cock thinks, filling behind my slacks. So, I tell him as much.

“I'm not crazy. I'm the monster they made me.”

Moaning when he sucks my skin into his mouth, I forget how foreign this all is and focus on the bolts of euphoria shooting straight to my dick.

“I'm gonna figure out how to make you love my monster anyways.”

Love is insaaaaane. I still cry out a ‘fuck’ when his hands fumble to pull out my throbbing cock.

“Spit.”

He demands with a hand pressed to my mouth. I'm helpless to comply. This must be the devil he was talking about because gone is the weeping mess of a man from last night.

His spit mixes with mine before gripping my length firmly.

It's a hand job, but it's Harlyn so of course it feels majestic just like the fucker behind the hand.

He speeds up just as his tongue licks into my mouth, seeking out mine. We are both moaning into each other’s mouth when he bites down on my bottom lip. Warmth explodes on my tongue following a sharp sting.

Moaning, Harlyn pulls back to roughly run his thumb across the abused flesh. “Mmm... Copper and Creek is my new favorite flavor.”

Eye’s rolling, body trembling, I watch as his hips jerk.

My mouth moves without permission as I watch him come hands free for the second time. “Oh fuck... You’re so hot baby, come back here.”

Gripping his hair, I drag his mouth back to mine and attack it with my needy tongue.

My senses are scattered, having Harlyn against me again and I hardly get a warning before I'm coming. He whimpers, while his hand fucks me through my orgasm.

“Fuck yes, Flower. Come all over me.”

He whines.

With a groan, my head falls back at the sound of his desperate voice.

Breathing heavy, I look at the beautiful and mysterious Harlyn. My gaze drops to the wet spot on his pants.

“Did you make a sticky mess, baby?”

He breaks eye contact, face flushing ten ways to Sunday.

With a shake of my head, I chuckle. The shy boy’s back and I can't help but smile.

“Maybe.”

He mumbles, licking his lips.

Losing my sanity for the hundredth time in the past 24 hours, I'm about to tell him to come here when his phone rings, cutting me off. I watch as he fumbles with his pockets, in search of it. None of his usual grace to be seen tonight, causing me to laugh. When he glares at me his face turns impossibly more crimson. He looks like a mad little kitten that I want to play with.

His demeanor shifts the moment he answers the phone.

Brows lowering in concern, I take a step toward him. The hand he holds up halts my approach.

Something like the sting of rejection pierces me in the chest. It's unfamiliar and new, making me uncomfortable. I hate change. Harlyn changes everything he touches. A wrecking ball in a pretty package. Standing on the other side of an invisible barrier, waiting to be unwrapped.

“I'll send you the address and meet you there.”

Disappointment crashes through me, hearing that he's leaving.

Get a fucking grip...

It's not like I was going to invite him to stay over... Was I? Who’s he talking to anyway? The person who requested he protect Res? Which I'm still highly suspicious over, and I have tons of questions because it's my default setting.

His full attention settles on me once he pockets his cell. “I have to go now...”

It's said on a whisper, and something in his eyes reveals he doesn't really want to. Something in mine probably says the same.

He fidgets a moment, then turns to leave. He only makes it to the middle of my bedroom before he's spinning around and running back to me.

My eyes widen when he draws near with no signs of stopping his fast approach. His body crashes into mine and we both release a similar ‘oomph’ upon impact. My hands instinctively reach out to steady him.

Skeptically deciding he can stand on two legs; I release him and tilt my head in question.

“I'm so sorry, I didn’t realize I was going that fast until it was too late. Did I hurt you? Here let me see!”

“Har.”

I say a bit too sharply. He's frantically rambling again, and I needed to stop it before he got carried away.

His head lowers and I hear a mumbled sorry.

I sigh. “What did you need?”

He peaks up at me between his lashes and messy hair. Face tinting pink, nibbling his lip, his eyes dart away and I fight a smile.

“I...”

I wait patiently, but he doesn't finish. Head jerking up, he bounces onto his tip toes and gives me a quick pec on the lips. He regards me with wide eyes when he pulls away and all I can do is stare. Even with that rugged scar around his neck, he looks so innocent ninety percent of the time. He acts as if he didn’t tell me to spit in his hand ten minutes ago so he could jerk my dick.

Who am I kidding? Everything turns him pink.

It's my new favorite color.

Thumbing his plush lips, I take a steadying breath. “Did you just want to kiss me baby?”

His lips part when he nods. I jump at the opportunity to part them further with my tongue and kiss him breathless.

When I finally climb in bed I fall asleep to thoughts of a very broken boy. A boy who purges when angry, with no remorse. A boy who rages on his surroundings and himself when set off. A boy who cries alone in the dark, so nobody can witness his fragmented pieces. A boy who pulls away, and hides all these sides of himself, from everyone but me.

A boy who put my dead heart on a record player and made it spin.