A piece for soxalox (aka hilo_lilo) about her lovely OC's. This is unfinished, but considering I am about three to four months late, I figured it was better than nothing. It's also rough. Please excuse.
Flashing lights, loud music, and cigarette smoke; that’s what strip clubs are made of.Well, a smile tugged gently at Hana’s lips.At least that is what this one is made of.It was one of the qualities Hana appreciated about the place. No false advertising. No trying to convince the clientele that this was a ‘burlesque’ bar, or some classy excuse for girls to take off their clothes. This place was a tried and true, down and dirty strip club, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.Honest. This place is honest.Hana had always had a thing for honesty.
Sequins and tassels flitted around Hana like fireflies as she sat alone in a booth idly looking around the gentlemen’s club. It was strange to be here and not be performing. Hana longed for the feel of the warm spotlight on her skin, the click of her stilettos against the hardwood stage, the beat of the edgy pop music egging her on as she gyrated lewdly for her spectators. She had worked at the strip club for a little over a year. Her stage name had been Jane. “Plain Jane”, her regular customers would call her whilst chuckling at the irony. Tonight, she was just Hana, a guest, watching her old friends seductively remove articles of clothing and toss them her way, with jesting smiles. Ruko, the owner of the club and one of her closest friends, had asked her to come. Calling about a half hour ago, the brunette had demanded that she arrive as soon as possible. Specific details were never clarified, but Hana didn’t expect any different form her endearingly arrogant friend. Ruko was a boisterous, beautiful woman, with a mouth and mind that would make a sailor grimace. Spotting her longtime friend in the throng of the crowd, Hana lifted her hand to wave at her. Seeing Hana, Ruko smiled brightly and pushed her way through the rowdy mass.
“Hana Valencia, where the fuck have you been?” Ruko yelled above the techno beat, sliding into the seat across from Hana.
“Waiting on your lazy ass right here, Ruko,” Hana joked, a good humored smile lighting up her animated face.
“Oh shut up, bitch.” Emphatically waving at a nearby scantily clothed server, Ruko demanded a bottle of vanilla vodka for her and her close friend, but Hana stopped her midway.
“Ruko, you jerk, you know I don’t handle drinks well. I’ve got to work later tonight!”
The saucy woman gave Hana a look that has been known to drop members of both genders to their knees. “Sweety, I could care less about that pesky job of yours. I’ve told you a thousand times your always welcome here at the club.”
Smiling, Hana grasped Ruko’s hands in hers. “I know. Maybe someday.” The job offer was kind and everlasting, a trait about Ruko’s generosity that Hana never took for granted. A while ago, the two women had come to a disagreement about Hana’s new line of work. Ruko knew the young girl was a fantastic assassin, but fantastic or not, one bullet could be the difference between life and death for her best friend. Hana had reassured Ruko of her safety, but the entire ordeal led to no satisfying end. Both fierce women knew that danger was an inevitability, and both also knew that Hana craved that danger on a daily basis. A silent truce was concocted. Neither of the women brought up Hana’s choice of profession, but Ruko constantly reminded Hana of her options. Hana sighed deeply, and looked into her friend’s wide eyes, before pinching her palms playfully.
The heavy atmosphere lightened considerably between the two friends as Hana continued. “But you wouldn’t have let me work drunk, either, Ruko. You do have some standards for your girls.”
“True, Valencia. Very true.” Ruko acquiesced, holding up her hands in mock surrender. Adjusting herself closer to Hana, her shoulders hunched in a conspiring manner. Ruko’s normally bright eyes seemed dim with concern, and Hana leaned her ear in close to her friend’s mouth. The attempt at privacy in the obnoxiously loud club seemed pointless, it wasn’t as if anyone could hear them anyway, but Hana kept her comment to herself.
“Tummel and his bastards were here earlier.”
Hana leaned back to look at her friend, eyebrows creased in confusion. “What? Why? What happened?”
“I don’t know. They burst through the door in the early afternoon. The place was closed, just some girls prepping the tables, but they ripped through the fucking joint, flipping over tables and chairs!” Ruko’s hand found its way tangled in her hair, a clear sign of frustration for Hana’s longtime friend. Her club had often had issues with people passing through the front and back entrance as a shortcut through a busy shopping street. It was simpler and faster than going around the block, but the privilege had been abused by far too many citizens, making it Ruko’s problem when it hindered her business. “That’s not the point. The point is, those fuckers dropped something on the way. They were in and out in about two seconds, but one of them dropped a suitcase.”
“It’s in the back. I’ll go grab it.”
Ruko slid unceremoniously out of the booth, unfolding her long legs from beneath the table.A suitcase?Hana thought.What the fuck? How much more James Bond could this guy be?Pondering the possibilities, Hana was startled as a distinct thud ripped her from her thoughts. An average, worn, black suitcase sat in front of her on the table. Ruko leaned on the carrying device while giving a serious look to Hana.
“I don’t know what’s in it. I told anyone that if they didn’t want to be castrated, they should leave the thing fucking shit.”
Hana rolled her eyes. “You work at a strip club, sweety.”
“Bitch, I think you mean I own a strip club,” Ruko replied with a sassy hair flip. “Besides, I’m sure girls can be castrated, too. It just takes some creativity.”
Hana laughed. Standing up and grasping the suitcase by the handle she lifted it curiously. It wasn’t too heavy, but it certainly wasn’t empty. Hana could only hope that the contents of the mysterious package would be worth her while. “I think I’ll give good ol’ Tummel a call. See if he won’t meet to negotiate over his lost items.”
“Will you see him tonight?” Ruko questioned.
“The sooner I can get this over with, the better,” Hana said flippantly, “But tomorrow is probably going to be when everything goes down.” She gave her friend a thankful hug, and hurried out the doors of the club. The blasting music was fun for a while, but Hana quickly began to appreciate the serenity of silence. Or at least the quiet hum of the city.
The handle of the suitcase feeling solidly promising in her right hand, Hana used her left hand to pull out her cell phone. She had just begun dialing Kahz Tummel’s number when the device began vibrating maniacly, blinking a bright blue, and screaming out a pop song.
Flipping open the phone quickly, Hana smiled at life’s timing.
“Why, hello, Kahz!”
His low voice resonated through the speakers of her phone without mercy, but Hana ordered her hormones to pull themselves together. It was crunch time. This had the potential to be extremely beneficial for FEAR, and all of her fellow assassins.
“How goes the evening, Kahz?”
“I know you have it, Hana.”
“Now, now, Kahz, I don’t know at all what you’re talking about. You’ll have to be clearer.” Hana peered around the city block. How could he have known that she would have it at this moment? Surely he didn’t have somebody posted, watching the door? Why wouldn’t they have grabbed it themselves?
Because Ruko wouldn’t have given it to them, her common sense whispered.
Pursing her lips in mild anger at Kahz’s infinite ability to piss her off and arouse her wildly, Hana turned around methodically, looking for the scout. Maybe a bloodied up foot man would send the right message to the leader of GHOST.
“Life will be grossly easier for both of us if you cooperate.”
Oh, the audacity of this man!Hana shook her head at her phone and laughed bitterly.
“No, no, no, kid, that’s not how it works. There will be no cooperation on my part. When we’re done with this bargain, you will have cooperated like nobody has ever cooperated before.” Hana paused for a moment, rethinking that statement. She could practically see Kahz’s amused eyebrow raise at her odd sentence. “Whatever,” Hana replied to his unstated judgment, “just meet me tomorrow night. We’ll talk then.” Flinging her phone inside her pocket Hana let out a frustrated growl, and headed off to her home.
Hana shifted on the bed where she sat, her legs folded comfortably underneath her rear. She held a large body length pink pillow in her hands as she mercilessly scrutinized the worn picture of Kahz she had stapled to the front.
Hana was aware that her makeshift Kahz was creepy. She really was. However, as long as no one else knew of her creepiness, Hana was content with remaining creepy. The pillow, which she had affectionately named TKP for ‘the Kahz pillow’, lived happily under her bed as a secret guilty pleasure she could refer to whenever the mood struck her (and it did more often than she would like to admit).
The man was wickedly handsome, Hana mused as she stared longingly into his captivating gold eyes. His hair was the same color as the dark red autumn leaves that fell off the sycamore tree in her backyard; his tan skin made her think of summertime. Running her fingers over the slick photography paper, Hana outlined his firm jaw line and his fascinating mouth. Kahz’s breathtaking appearance hinted of a rugged and rebellious boy who had matured into a clean cut politician, resulting in a strangely complex, yet appealing man. More than his looks, though, the sheer power he exuded was intoxicating. In her area of expertise rarely did Hana ever feel like a beautiful or fragile woman. Being a ruthless assassin does that to a girl. But something about the atmosphere that constantly cloaked Kahz made her weak in the knees, like a delicate lady who floated about with a parasol in her spare time, rather than one who practiced mixed martial arts in her home gym.If only he wasn’t such an ass about it,Hana thought. He was so cruel, so forceful, and it made Hana endlessly furious at his cocky attitude.
She gave a considering look to TKP.Maybe that’s what made him so addicting?
Hana gave a startled jump as her cell phone rang, blasting an obnoxiously loud teeny bop song. After stuffing TKP under her bed, Hana searched under her many blankets for her phone. “A-ha!” she exclaimed triumphantly, pulling it out from under a far corner of her comforter. Accepting the call, she laid on her back across her bed. Snow colored hair spread out luxuriously on the covers, as Hana cheerfully greeted, “Hi there!”
“Hana,” a slightly nasal, disapproving voice answered.
“Demiyah!” Hana squealed, kicking her long legs up in the air playfully.
“Hana,” Demiyah repeated, his inflection unchanging.
“I have just concluded discussing your antics with Ruko.”
Rolling her eyes, Hana used her elbows to turn her body onto her stomach. “Nothing good ever comes of that.”
“She says,” Demiyah determinedly continued, taking no note of his sister’s comment, “that you are meeting with him tonight.”
“Him? Him who? I know a lot of ‘hims’, dearest brother,” Hana bantered.
“Kahz Temmal.” His tone left no room for Hana’s playful jokes.
“Ah. That him.”
“You know how I feel about Temmal, Hana.”
“I also know that you’re a concerned, and biased, older brother.”
“He’s a hazard.”
“A hazard? He’s not an orange road sign, Demiyah.”
“He could hurt you.”
“Trust me, I’d hurt him first.”
“He’s a reprobate, Hana. You have no business communicating with him.”
“He’s not and I do.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not defending him.”
Silence ensued while Demiyah patiently waited for a better answer. A truthful one.
“Look, he’s a pain in my butt, too, okay? But he seems to want this suitcase pretty badly, and FEAR could get a lot of good things out of this deal. Our territory back, for one.”
“So you’re doing this for work?” Demiyah said suspiciously. Hana envisioned her brother’s intelligent blue eyes squinting with speculation.
A pause in conversation occurred. Hana pulled herself up into a cross legged sitting position. She’d always been a restless phone-talker. Leaning over to her bedside nightstand, she grabbed the half full bottle of water that sat there. Tucking her phone between her ear and shoulder, she unscrewed the cap and drank the refreshment heartily.
“Have you disposed of that abhorrent pink pillow yet?”
Shocked, Hana coughed, choking on her water, frantically gasping for breath. Regaining her composure, she tersely responded, “Aren’t you a little old to be peeking under my bed?”
“A brother is never too old to look after his little sister.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s common knowledge that after the age of twelve a brother should stop snooping in his sister’s room. Apparently, you missed the memo.”
“Do whatever pleases you in the safety of your home, Hana, but I cannot approve of you acting on this foolish desire for Tummel.”
“Look, Demiyah. This is none of your business. None. I’m a big girl now. No more diapers or anything. This meeting is strictly about negotiating terms for a trade. So you need to back off.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Demiyah Alexis Valencia. Back. Off.”
Furious at her brother’s imposing audacity; Hana ended the call, and threw her phone across the room. It sailed through the air and crashed into her dresser drawers with a satisfying smash. Unfortunately, her brother was an annoyingly persistent fellow, and the phone rang once more. Letting out a short and shrill shriek, Hana bounded to her phone, and answered it viciously.
“I get it, okay? You’re the caring brother, who only wants the best for his sister, blah, blah, blah, but this is just stupid! How dare you even consider that you can control my life this way? I can fantasize about who I want, when I want, and there will be absolutely, positively no commentary on your part, do you hear me? This is my life and I intend to see and be with and make deals with and even have sex with whoever the hell I want! And you can keep your snobby remarks to yourself. I don’t want to hear them, you whiny, little, uptight excuse for a—“
“Hana?” a confused baritone voice asked.
“Oh!” Hana went pale. “Kahz?”
Hana took a breath to let the situation sink in.
Hana closed her eyes.
“I, uh, thought you were my brother.”
Damn, damn, damn.
“What do you want, Kahz?”
“I wanted to know where we were meeting tonight. I would like to suggest the Chinese place on tenth and Huntoon Boulevard.”
“You don’t like Chinese?” Kahz’s voice was incredulous. Hana almost laughed.
“No, Chinese is good. I just thought we were talking about the, uh—suitcase thingy?”
“Over Chinese?” Hana was perplexed. They both knew she had the advantage in this deal; she was certainly going to burn a huge hole in his wallet during the trade for the mysterious suitcase, and yet he wanted to go on a date first?
“Yes,” he stated flatly.
“Why?” she inquired.
God, was he always this simple? Perhaps he was, and she had just been distracted by his stunning good looks when they met in person.Hm, a valid theory.
“Hey, Hana?” He sounded tense. Worried.
“Have you opened the suitcase?”
Hana glanced at the hidden safe in her wall where the suitcase lay dormant. “Why?”
“Kahz, why?” Hana insisted firmly.
“It’s for your own good.”
“That’s not an answer.” Shoving a bewildered hand through her hair, forcing her cap to cling precariously on the side of her head. Hana bristled at Kahz’s sidestepping. “Give me one good reason not to, or I’ll open it now.”
“This is your only warning. If you open that suitcase, I’ll have to kill you,” he answered stoically and hung up.
Hana pulled the phone away from her face and stared at it.Was he kidding?Hana thought of the way he’d spoken that phrase. Controlled, without a hint of doubt, discipline engraved in every syllable he uttered. It was the same way Hana felt right before she took the life of her target. Any shred of concern pounded away by the job at hand. Any questioning remarks silenced forever as she watched the light dim from their eyes.
He meant it.
Thoughtfully, Hana paced across the room, rolling her cell phone between her hands rhythmically. If she opened the suitcase, he’d kill her. If she didn’t open the suitcase, would he still kill her? What if someone else opened the suitcase? Would he kill them? What could that suitcase possibly expose that got Kahz all worked up like this? A secret about his past, or family? Hana had a hard time imagining Kahz with any sort of family, but didn’t find difficulty considering if he had secrets. Maybe it was a list of targets for GHOST? Money? The possibilities were endless. Hana let out a snort. There were apparently quite a few things that Kahz would kill her for, and here she was with his face stapled to a pillow. She should just go date an accountant, for pity sake.
A flash of genius illuminated Hana’s face, and she smiled evilly. Tossing her phone onto her bed, Hana gleefully flung her hat on to her dresser, and pulled off her shirt, preparing to take a shower. She knew just what to do.
Wrapping her towel underneath her arms, Hana critically surveyed her appearance in the floor length bedroom mirror. Her hair was a soft white, and as the damp strands coiled around her shoulders in no particular order, Hana decided that it was nothing to complain about. She ran her fingers through the wet mess, half-heartedly combing out a few tangles.Not gorgeous, by any stretch of the imagination, but it could be considered pretty by some.Usually, she wore it straight. Meaning to say that it usually became straight after she ran a brush through it, and so she left it alone. Taizh and Ruko often shared their jealousy for her submissive hair, but Hana knew her two devilishly attractive friends were being silly. Reflection collided with reality as Hana stared curiously into her own eyes. Light blue starburst irises were framed with abnormally long, thick lashes. A sneaking smile curved her lips as she recalled an old lover she had once had, who insisted that her eyes “sparkled like the clear, blue, Caribbean sea”, but she blew off the compliment easily. He was, after all, French. What more could you expect from the citizens of a country with a large phallus shaped structure as their noteworthy symbol?
Her skin was clear and rosy, with a smattering of light freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and her high cheekbones. Her mother often called them ‘cute’, but Hana called them ‘the curse of the pale skinned.’ Propping her hands on her hips, Hana turned to the side, and her curvaceous form became apparent. Her wide hips and large bust had left her frustrated as a preteen, but she had long since stopped aspiring to become a supermodel, settling for exotic dancer on more than one occasion. Overall, it was a body that a girl could work with. Hana cocked her head to the side.Perhaps, well, just for tonight, maybe I should pull out the dusty ol’ curling iron, or drag out my masca—
“Stop it,” Hana sharply reprimanded herself. “You are not going to get all gussied up for this disaster of an evening. This is any other day, with any other person who has threatened your life. You take a shower; you slap on your hat and uniform and get out. Just because his eyes are the color of honey, and his smooth, dark chocolate voice makes you feel all hot and bothered does not mean you should give him any extra effort. You are an independent woman. You are strong! And as a strong, independent woman, you will dress up for no one but yourself. And if you do happen to curl your hair or brush on some mascara, it is in the name of feminist power and all that it represents! It is war paint, preparing for the battle of wills that is sure to come. Even if he is a hunk with an ass that could rock my world and crimson hair that is just the right length to be pulled in ecstasy—and, oh damn, shoulders wide enough to make a girl feel dainty, even when she’s covered in another man’s blood…”
Hana cradled her confused head in her hands, her brother’s words haunting her thoughts.What am I getting myself into?
Eventually Hana settled on not messing with her hair or face, but trading her normal forest green uniform for a simple dark blue sundress. Its flirty skirt reached about mid-thigh, and had a long scooping back that juxtaposed the rather modest neckline. Hana pursed her lips as she examined her posterior side in the mirror, inspecting the snippets of her burgundy tattoo that periodically weaved into view from the cut of the dress. Ultimately convincing herself that it gave her a mysterious and seductive image, she sat on her bed to buckle on a pair of casual brown gladiator style sandals. Hana even persuaded herself to paint her toenails a pastel pink that contrasted delightfully with her dress. Returning to her mirror to criticize the final outcome of her carefully balanced efforts, Hana deemed her approval. She looked nice. No makeup, hair naturally flouncy, as she tried to obtain a “fashionista by day, assassin by night” sort of style. Fluffing her hair with the tips of her fingers, to add some volume, Hana settled her green cap on her head and exited the room. As an afterthought, she ran back to her room, grabbing the dagger she kept under her mattress. “Almost forgot you, baby,” she cooed fondly to the knife, strapping its holster on her upper thigh. Kahz had said that tonight he might kill her. Hana smirked.That’s cool, kid. You go ahead and try.Brightly, she skipped out of her room and the house, catching a cab to the restaurant.
Kahz glared at her coldly.
“I don’t like you.”
“That’s just great,” Hana contemptuously replied, “because in all honesty? You aren’t exactly my favorite person either, kid.”
“Kid?” Kahz raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I’m not a child. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’m older than you.”
Nodding politely to the waitress as their food arrived, Hana picked up her chopsticks expertly and waved them in Kahz’s direction. “Biologically, sure. But if we’re talking real smarts, like street smarts? I’m—what was that word you used?—eons ahead.” Smiling confidently, Hana proceeded to inhale the noodles she had ordered.
“What could possibly make you think such a thing?” Kahz retorted while fumbling with his chopsticks. Contraptions like these weren’t found on his home planet, nor was it a skill taught in military school. This restaurant had always given him a fork in the past. Why hadn’t they just given him a damn fork?
“Well for starters,” Hana giggled, “you can’t even use chopsticks.” Flashing an infuriated look towards Hana, Kahz clumsily arranged the two pieces of wood in his hand, muttering obscenities when they slid mockingly from his fingers. Covering her mouth to dim her incessant giggling, tears formed in Hana’s eyes. It was reassuring to see the cool and collected Kahz struggle with this simple task. Perhaps he was human, after all. Taking mercy on the agitated man, Hana calmed herself enough to shakily ask, “Do you want some help?”
“No,” he spat defiantly.
“Look, it’s not that big of a deal. I can go get you a—“
“I said no.”
“Kahz, enough with the macho deal—”
“Hana,” Kahz rumbled dangerously. “It’s fine.”
Rolling her eyes at his arrogance, Hana crossed her arms. “Fine.”
He’d been first in his class for sixteen years. He was the fastest, strongest, and most capable soldier that both his world and this one had ever encountered, and these measly sticks would be coined as his first failure? As each failing attempt mounted on top of the last, Kahz’s hand became progressively tighter around the unforgiving slivers of wood until—
A sharp crack resonated in the air and Kahz looked hopelessly at the splintered fragments he held in his hand.
Unable to contain herself, Hana let loose a melodious peal of laughter, immediately hiding her face behind her hands, propping her elbows upon the table. Trembling with mirth, Hana took several deep breaths to regain control of her emotions, and then sat up to sneak a brief self conscious glance around the Chinese café. As she had suspected, the two comrades had attracted the attention of the small restaurant, and Hana caught the amused eyes of their waitress. Leaning her head towards her baffled companion, Hana mouthed the word “fork”, and made a jabbing motion with her hand. With an understanding grin, the woman walked into the kitchen, and returned to the dining area. Softly, the waitress laid down a fork next to Kahz, lightly touching his shoulder. “Sir?” she inquired. Kahz looked at the mangled chopsticks in his hand, and with a defeated sigh grumbled a short ‘thank you’ to the server. Brushing the remains of the splintered wood onto his napkin, he bitterly picked up the fork and plunged it into his sesame chicken.
The meal continued in silence. Hana didn’t dare tease Kahz any further, for fear he might rip her head off. Time passed, and the mood of the restaurant relaxed as the other patrons became distracted by their own meals. After ten minutes, Hana deemed it a suitable time to pick up their conversation.
“Seriously, though, your chopstick issues aside,” Kahz’s amber eyes flashed threateningly in Hana’s direction, “you don’t know the first thing about this place. You don’t understand the life we live here, the ins and outs. You’re unfamiliar, ya know? When you need your boss to MapQuest you directions for your next hit, I can walk there blindfolded.” Hana leaned back so that her chair teetered on two legs, putting her hands behind her head proudly. “Every street, every alley, heck, every sidewalk is just another part of home sweet home for me and FEAR. For you, well, this is a whole new world, isn’t it? ” Finishing her valiant speech, Hana leaned back even further in her chair, tempting all three mistresses of Fate as she perilously balanced. When the Fates didn’t act quickly enough, Kahz took matters into his own hands and tapped the seat of the chair ever-so-slightly with the tip of his foot.
Hana lay on the ground, mouth agape, unable to accept the situation at hand. Did he just—? No. No, he wouldn’t! …would he? It would be petty. The all-mighty, aloof Kahz would never stoop so low… Unless—that rat bastard did, didn’t he?!
Embarrassment painted Hana’s face a deep fuchsia as she clumsily found her way to her feet and righted her chair. The entire restaurant staff rapidly swarmed with offers of beverages, doctors, and icepacks, while Hana frantically assured them that she was perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Kahz smirked knowingly at the ongoing scene, his eyes glittering mischievously.
“You got a strong one, here,” an apron adorned man said good-naturedly to Kahz, patting him firmly on the shoulder, before he ambled away with his coworkers, finally convinced of Hana’s safety.
Gracefully standing up, Kahz laid several bills on the table before offering a civilized hand to Hana. Making a motion to the exit, Kahz stated, “We should probably head out. Luck just isn’t in our favor tonight.” Hana fixed Kahz with a piercing stare. Luck has nothing to do with jackasses toppling people’s chairs. Grudgingly Hana accepted his hand. She couldn’t help but notice the enormity of his it as it enveloped hers.You know what they say about guys with big… Ack!Bad Hana, bad thoughts!How could she be thinking about this when this man had toppled her over in a chair in front of God and everybody? Clearly she was out of her mind.
As they departed the tiny restaurant, the streets were practically empty. The orange lamps brightly glowed down the side walk, and the moon was a perfect crescent hanging above their heads. After urging Kahz to the side street next to the restaurant, Hana yanked her hand from his indignantly.
“Did you push my chair over” she demanded, eyes burning with fiery blue passion.
“What could you possibly mean?” he drawled sarcastically.
“Don’t try to deny it, you evil son of a bitch.”
“I don’t see how blaming me for your humiliating clumsiness is going to solve anything.” Kahz leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant, crossing his arms. Kahz’s dress shirt pulled deliciously across the front of his chest, and Hana could’ve sworn she saw his muscles rippled as he moved. Awkwardly Hana tried desperately not to ogle.
“Did I stutter?”
Hana’s mouth fell agape at his derogatory tone and diction.
“Now, listen to me, you arrogant asinine idiot,” Hana began, shoving a finger at Kahz’s far too attractive chest. “You have no right to talk to—“
Suddenly Hana’s world became a blur, and her head thundered against the brick wall of the alley as she was thrown against it. Using his massive body as a barricade, Kahz blocked her every escape route, his arms framing her head, his legs spread over hers.
“I’ve given you all evening to do as you were told, Hana.” Kahz spoke low and menacingly, leaning into her left ear. Hana hated to admit to the peal of fear that shuddered down her spine, along with the tightening of her body as his breath tickled her neck.What the fuck is wrong with me?she wondered helplessly.Now is not the time, hormones. Let’s get hot and bothered in a few hours, okay? We’ll make an appointment.
“Look, I don’t know what planet you’re from, but you can’t treat me like this here on Earth,” Hana spat out, fury coloring her cheeks. “You can’t—“
“Shut up and listen.”
Shocked and offended, Hana did as she was told.
“You are going to give me the suitcase. Now. ”
Every feminist bone in Hana’s body ached to beat the shit out of the conceited, arrogant imbecile that held her hostage. However, a few bones in Hana’s body had rebelled and were turned to jelly by his commanding tone. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?