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Chapter One
Cyrus
Inever believed there was some great tipping point in life where you find your center. Where you start to feel content.
It’s more a long series of bumpy roads that eventually wear out your emotional shock absorbers.
That’s what I believed down into my soul until last night, when I saw the angel that has me questioning whether I’ve had it wrong all along.
That’s the thought running through my head as I walk through the door to my Saturday morning pancake breakfast at my brother Tor and his wife Natalie’s house.
I let myself in through the back door, the screaming of a toddler echoes down the hall overshadowing the singing of Moana from the TV in the living.
Their oldest daughter has already decided she wants to be a Polynesian princess when she grows up and good for her for figuring out her goals early in life.
I’m early this morning because I headed straight here after an all-night poker game but early around here doesn’t matter.
Everyone here is up at the fucking crack ass of dawn because they’ve been popping out kids like Tic-Tacs since they met four years ago, and from what I can tell, kids do not believe in sleep.
That is one of the only things I have in common with kids. I don’t sleep. I do whatever possible to avoid it. I hate dreams. Ever since I took a line drive to the head playing college baseball, the dark claws of nightmares straight from hell have dug their claws into my subconscious.
In the dark hours of my rare slumber, I’m usually fighting for my life against a shadowy black figure. I’m smothering and flailing at the air, screaming and kicking.
On my first night home from the hospital recovering from that injury, my mom insisted on staying overnight as mother’s do. About 2 AM, she heard me yelling and came into shake me awake when she realized I was dreaming.
To thank her, I punched her in the eye. That punch could have killed her. She never got upset or shamed me for it, but I never forgave myself and have done everything in my power to avoid sleep ever since.
So, since then, I’ve become a connoisseur of caffeine and bad moods. But, my big fucking problem right now is I can’t stop thinking about the glimpse of the blonde goddess from last night’s poker game. My head is pounding along with my dick and I hate myself for not bailing out of the game last night to follow her.
“You take the table? Or,” My brother Tor sizes me up on a low chuckle as we stand in his all-white kitchen with multi-colored scribbles and crude drawings on all the walls from about three feet down. He shakes his head, rubbing his tired eyes, “Looks more like the table took you.”
I growl into my palm, knowing there is no use faking it with him. He’s two years older nearly to the day, but we’re more like twins to be honest.
“And why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses?” He grunts turning to the coffee maker and pouring me a huge mug of the steaming liquid.
“I’ve been up all-night motherfucker. Morning is my night.” That’s not all together untrue, but I’m also hiding the shiner from my fight with the security guards at the game.
He hands the mug my way, which I take gratefully but while I’m distracted, he reaches out and snatches my glasses off my face. “What the fuck?”
He laughs running a hand down his face. “I sure hope to shit the other guy looks worse than you.”
“There was this distraction.” I shake my head, trying to get the image of the blonde’s spankable ass and life-changing tits to leave me the fuck alone for a few seconds. “Man, there was this girl. This fucking girl. I’ve never been distracted by a female before.”
I take a sip of the coffee, twisting my hand looking down at my watch. It’s been eight hours and thirty-six minutes since I saw her walking out from the hallway at the penthouse where I was in a hundred grand buy in Texas Hold ‘Em game. I got maybe a three second look at her while we locked eyes, then she turned and made her way out the front door like it was nothing.
Three fucking seconds that rocked my fucking world.
I don’t know what she was doing there. The group is always men. Niko Farkas who runs this particular game is a misogynist of the highest order.
This girl gave me a boner and a vision of the future, with wavy ivory hair brushing her shoulders and pink lips that made me dream of spending a lifetime kissing her. My cock came alive right then and has been driving me fucking nuts ever since. I figured she had to be one of the other players’ mistresses or evening’s entertainment, which only fucked with my head more.
I should have thrown in all my fucking money and followed her out of there. I tossed out a few questions around about who she was, but none of the guys seemed to know and the host wasn’t giving anything up either.
So now, I’m so fucking sideways about how a three second glance at a woman has me hard as lead and ready to burn down the fucking city to find her.
When no one could tell me who she was, my mood took a dark turn and one of the regulars, Dimitri, a douche in a silk suit and too much cologne, started busting my balls. That I could take, but when he snapped his tongue and dropped a comment about pounding out his frustrations on the juicy piece of ass that just disappeared out the front door, I nearly choked him out.
Took two security guards to pull me off. Then, I took them on. One of them landed a hard right to my eye but I got mine in as well. I left one of them missing a tooth and the other puking out his Hawaiian pizza before I got my shit back in order. It wouldn’t have been much longer before they pulled out the hardware and I ended up with a bullet in my forehead.
