His words kept ringing in her head.

That's what you wanted me to do. You wouldn't have enjoyed it. Wouldn't have enjoyed it.

Enjoyed it.

The crack of her palm against his face haunted her. The palm of her hand was still stinging.

What he'd said had sent white-hot rage spearing through her. She didn't even know what had made her so angry. Her hand had flashed out before she'd realized it and her heart had stopped as soon as the sound registered.

Over and over in her mind, she watched as he slowly turned his head back to her, a red blotch blooming across his left cheek. He had barely seemed to register the fact that she'd hit him.

The warmth of his hands lingered on her arms. Her heart had stopped completely when he'd pressed her up against the cool cinderblock wall. 

Something scorching had been in his eyes, but whether it was fury or desire, she didn't know. She could never tell with him.

Remi finally pulled the car over, killing the engine. The house was maybe ten feet away, and she had the wild urge to leap from the car and sprint to the door. Maybe the slam as she closed it on him would drive away the image of another door slamming shut.

She shivered as she thought about how the bones had just cracked, like dry twigs.

Charlie couldn't look at him. She could feel his presence, the overwhelming force of him. But she couldn't bear to look into his eyes and find a monster reflected back at her.

He might have slammed the door, but she had signed the warrant.

That's what you wanted me to do.

Her hand was still tingling with the force of the blow. In the dim streetlight, Remi wasn't much more than a sinister outline, but she imagined she could still see the bright red mark she'd left on his face.

"What did you tell her?"

The sound of his voice breaking the silence made her flinch. She made herself look at him and croaked, "What?"

"The woman you were with tonight." He was watching out the windshield. "What did you tell her?"

Charlie's mind groped through her memories, still snaring on the sound of her palm, the look on his face as he'd crushed the bouncer's hand. Finally she found what she was looking for.

"That I was sick," she whispered.

It hadn't been a lie exactly. She'd felt shaky and nauseous, certain she was moments away from vomiting. Jazira had been worried, asking if they should take her home. She'd waved them off, knowing Remi would come after her. And he had.

And then she'd slapped him.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I was just..."

She didn't have any idea what she was aside from scared. Remi had once told her that he'd never hurt her. But how was she supposed to believe that after tonight?

If she pushed too far, or simply did something he didn't like, what was to stop him from doing the exact same thing to her. The crack of bone echoed in her ears again, and she curled her hands in toward her stomach in a subconscious effort to protect them.

She had known that because of who he was—what he was—people got hurt as a result. Hell she'd seen it. But she'd never actually seen him physically hurt someone.

He'd barely blinked. It had been so... casual. Like he was shaking the man's hand instead of destroying it.

Charlie's breath was rough in her throat. Her lips formed the words "I'm sorry" one more time. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what to do.

She hated this feeling. The thought jolted through her, and her breath started coming a little slower as she stared down the street. She was afraid of him tonight. She was afraid of him now and hadn't been before, and she realized she despised the feeling.

Because she didn't want to be afraid of him, however ill-advised that might be.

Bile suddenly raced up her throat and her hand scrambled at the door. She bailed out of the car, collapsing to all fours on the small strip of mostly dead grass in front of her house.

She choked and retched, only vaguely aware of the sound of a car door slamming. Her stomach was empty—sour, acidic bile was the only thing that came up as it heaved itself against her spine. Her fingers clawed into the grass, the crunch of bone reverberating through the ringing in her ears.

Her whole body was aching by the time her stomach realized there was nothing to bring up. Charlie stayed on the ground for a moment, panting and spitting to clear away the vile taste of stomach acid.

What have I done?

Shooting to her feet, Charlie stumbled drunkenly forward, just to slam right into him. She reeled backwards, fetching up against the car. All she could do was shake her head, staring at him.

Remi frowned at her, his hands going into his pockets.

They stood like that for an eternity.

She found that monster she'd been afraid of in his eyes, but she couldn't tell if it was his monster or hers that she was seeing. 

Nervous energy trembled through her and she all but leapt past him, scrambling toward the house. Then she stopped dead, staring at the red-painted door in blank horror. 

She'd left her purse—and the keys inside it—in Miles' car.

A soft step behind her made her whirl around, her back pressing against the locked door. Remi was still frowning, like something about tonight had puzzled him. He didn't look angry. Not like she'd seen him angry before.

"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, the lower timbre of his voice shuddering through her.

Did she have a choice?

Charlie blinked up at him, her heart pounding in her throat.

Why had he smashed the bouncer's hand?

"It's locked," she rasped. "I forgot my... the keys."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Remi sighed and turned back to the car. Charlie watched with wide eyes as he dug around in the glovebox for something before returning.

He extended his hand, light sparking off whatever he was holding. Charlie finally blinked. Lock-picks. He was offering her a set of lock-picks.

"I don't—" she stumbled on her words. A scoff burst out if her before she could stop it. "I don't know how to pick a lock!"

"Lucky for you," he said voice painfully quiet as he nudged her aside, "I do."

Charlie leaned back against the doorframe, watching as he made quick work of the lock. He pushed the door open, then gestured for her to go inside. When she didn't move, he sighed deeply and leaned against the frame.

The door yawned between them.

Finally he ran a hand through his hair and gave her a rueful look. "That's all it took, huh?"

Charlie's brows drew sharply together. The sight of the open door made her cross her arms, her hands pressed against her stomach. His eyes flicked down at the movement, then back up to meet hers.

They were black as sin in the low light.

She supposed hers were too.

"All what took?" she asked. She didn't know why they didn't go inside.

"Just a couple broken bones." He shrugged. "And now you're afraid." An expansive sigh now. 

"Afraid," she repeated blankly. The word somehow rang hollow in her ears. False.

Which was ridiculous. Hasn't she just realized that herself?

Standing there looking at him, she suddenly wasn't so sure. A shiver of dread ran down her spine and she darted through the open door, waving for him to come in. Or leave, maybe.

Charlie stopped in the living room just long enough to shed her heels before padding barefoot into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and turned on the sink. After sticking the glass under the tap, she closed her eyes.

She was afraid.

She could feel it in the rapid beat of her heart and taste it in her mouth.

Water overflowed and trickled over her fingers, making her start and drop the glass in the sink. Scrambling, she picked it up, filled it half full and took a sip. She swirled the water around her mouth before spitting it into the sink. Then she rinsed her mouth again.

He was there. She knew he was there, watching every minuscule motion. Like a mountain lion watching a deer.

After another long sip, she placed the glass on the counter and turned to face him.

Remi stayed on the other side of the bar, still giving her that strange look. It wasn't puzzled, she realized. Or, at least, that wasn't the only thing. He almost looked... sorrowful.

She shook her head at that. A man like Remi didn't regret things. And he was never sorry.

"Why did you break his hand?" she asked one last time. Part of her wondered why it even mattered.

"Why did you want me to?" 

Charlie's breath caught and Remi moved around the bar, but he didn't come any closer to her. He leaned against the counter, head tilted. Her hands trembled and she balled them into fists so he wouldn't see. So she wouldn't put more blood in the water.

"I didn't..." she trailed off as he took another step forward. Then she cleared her throat. "I didn't want you to."

"Don't lie to me," he growled. His voice softened, like silk over a blade. "You don't have to lie to me."

Another prowling step. Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she couldn't move. Or she wouldn't move. She met his gaze dead on and Remi tilted his head again, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He took that final step, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her waist.

Her lips parted, her breath rasping in her throat as she stared up at him. Heat shivered through her, making her skin too hot.

Wasn't she afraid of him?

"You wanted me to," he whispered, his breath brushing past her lips. "And that's okay."

Charlie started to shake her head. No. It really wasn't.

The movement stopped when he placed a hand gently on her throat, fingers pressing into her jaw. Then his hand slid around to the back of her neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just behind her ear.

"I wanted to," he murmured. "And you wanted me to want to."

A desperate little breath burst from her and she brought her hands up, meaning to shove him away. Instead she grabbed his jacket, the material slick like blood against her fingers.

She wasn't afraid of him.

"Why did you?" she breathed, meeting his gaze. "Why did you do it?"

Remi leaned in a little further. Softly, he brushed his lips against hers. When she didn't move, he kissed her again. Charlie let out a small moan of horror.

She wasn't afraid of him.

He nipped at her lower lip, then kissed along her jaw until he reached her ear. His teeth teased at her earlobe for a moment before he whispered, "Because you wanted me to."

She was afraid of what she was when she was with him.

Charlie shoved him away and hissed, "I didn't want you to. I wanted you to scare him a little and let me go back to the nice night I was having."

The startled look on his face might have been priceless under any other circumstances. It quickly smoothed away into a mask of ice that would give Leon a run for his money. She bit at the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something overly stupid.

Remi huffed out a humorless laugh, then shrugged. "Fine," he drawled. "I did it because I wanted to. He put bruises on you and I didn't like it. So I busted up his hand."

"Why do you care about the bruises?" she pressed, curiosity pushing her closer to that ledge. The one that, if she fell from it, she wouldn't land on her feet and her nine lives would be up.

He didn't move—didn't so much as flinch. Then he said, "Why do you even have to ask that?"

That startled her more than anything else tonight.

He turned without another word and she stood frozen as he left, slamming the door behind him. Woodenly, she went upstairs and into the bathroom. She cleaned the makeup off her face, then changed into a pair of sweats and a tank top.

Belated shock grabbed a hold of her and shivers wracked her body as she curled up on her bed. Tears blurred her vision, falling whenever she managed to blink.

She hadn't been afraid of him tonight at all, she realized again. She had never been afraid of him.

Monsters weren't afraid of other monsters—only wary.

She was just as cruel and nasty as he was. At least he accepted that fact.

Charlie curled in on herself, pressing her face into her pillow. The only thing that had frightened her tonight was herself.

Which one was the lie, she wondered. Which one was real and which one was just a mask made for survival.

The version of Charlie that could go shopping and have lunch with Jazira?

Or the one that wanted Remi to come back?