Page 56 of Candy Cane Chains

"No such thing as cheap shots in a real fight." I gesture for him to come at me again. "But please, show me your proper form."

His next punch has better technique, but the cocaine makes him wild, uncontrolled. I catch his wrist, twisting until tendonsstrain. "See, Travis, the problem isn't your form." My free hand grabs his throat. "It's that you think rules matter in a fight for your life."

He claws at my grip, face turning red. I release him just before he passes out.

"Again." I step back, hands loose at my sides. "Show me what those Golden Gloves taught you."

And I can’t wait to show him what growing up on these streets taught me.

29

IVY

I'm pressed against the wall, heart thundering as Julian's fist connects with Travis's jaw. I backed away to give them space, but I can't take my eyes off them.

As Travis dives forward again, snarling about Julian being fucked up and kidnapping me, I see how sloppy his movements are - especially when Julian's fist connects with his face. The crack echoes through the room. Blood sprays from Travis's split lip, spattering across the pristine marble floor.

"You think you can threaten her?" Julian's voice carries that same controlled coldness that makes my skin prickle.

Travis stumbles, wiping blood from his chin. "She's mine?—"

Another hit lands. Travis's designer shirt tears as Julian slams him against the warehouse wall. The raw display of power sends heat coursing through me, pooling low in my belly. My breath catches as Julian's muscles flex beneath his suit jacket.

"Ivy, baby, help me." Travis's voice cracks. "He's dangerous. You can't want someone like him."

But I do. God help me, I do. Every calculated movement, every controlled breath Julian takes speaks to something primalinside me. Where Travis's violence always terrified me, Julian's precision ignites me.

And man was he right. The fucking violence rolling off of him is making me want him so bad right now. I want to feel all that power, all the anger and aggression focused on me. I want everything Julian has.

"Look at you." Travis spits blood, his lip curling up in disgust. "Getting turned on by this psycho. You're fucking broken."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising even me with its darkness. "No, Travis. I'm not broken." My voice comes out husky. "I just finally found someone who matches my shade of darkness."

Julian's ice-blue eyes lock with mine across the room. The corner of his mouth ticks up - a predator recognizing its mate. Travis never understood this part of me, tried to shame it away. But Julian... Julian sees it, feeds it, makes it bloom.

"You're sick," Travis gasps as Julian's hand closes around his throat.

"No." I push off from the wall, letting the arousal and power course through my veins. "I'm free."

The realization washes over me. All those years of hiding my darker impulses, of pretending to be the perfect society girlfriend - they fall away. In their place stands a woman who craves the edge of danger, who finds beauty in controlled violence. And in Julian's calculating gaze, I see my match.

My fingers press into my thighs as Julian methodically takes Travis apart. Each movement flows with lethal grace - a knee to the stomach that doubles Travis over, an elbow strike that snaps his head back. No wasted motion. No wild swings. Just pure, calculated destruction.

My breath hitches as Julian grabs Travis by the throat again, pressing him against the wall. Those same hands that mapped every inch of my skin now deal precise punishment. But wheremine were doled out with lessons and pleasure, Travis is about to learn a permanent consequence.

Don't fuck with Julian's girl.

Travis's designer clothes hang in tatters by the time Julian slows. Blood trickles from his nose, staining his white shirt crimson. He tries to swing, but Julian blocks it easily, twisting Travis's arm behind his back until something pops. The sound mingles with Travis's cry of pain.

"You don't touch what's mine." Julian's voice remains steady, almost conversational. It's the same tone he uses when he orders me to come for him, when he praises me for taking everything he gives.

Heat pools between my legs. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive. I press my thighs together, seeking friction as I watch Julian's muscles ripple beneath his suit. His precision reminds me of how deliberately he unraveled me - each touch, each kiss placed exactly where it would drive me wild.

Travis slumps against the wall, barely conscious. Julian adjusts his cuffs, not a hair out of place despite the violence. Only the intensity in his ice-blue eyes betrays his fury. Those eyes that watched me fall apart under his skilled hands, that darkened with desire as he claimed every inch of me.

My body thrums with need, remembering that focused attention. How Julian took me apart piece by piece, rebuilding me with exquisite control. The same control he displays now, dealing out punishment with surgical precision.

With a quick strike from Julian, Travis crumples to the floor, his designer clothes torn and bloodied. His perfectly styled hair falls in matted clumps across his forehead. A far cry from the polished trust fund boy who controlled my life for two years. Blood trickles from his split lip, dripping onto the marble floor.

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