Slammed
By Skyla Madi
Slammed
Copyright © 2014 by Skyla Madi. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: November 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-001-3
ISBN-10: 1-68058-001-9
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Author's Note:
Slammed is a standalone spinoff novel to the Consumed Trilogy.
It can be read as a standalone, but to fully understand Selena and Jackson’s rocky history, you’ll have to read Consumed, Too Consumed, and Forever Consumed. I’ve tried to repeat key details in this novel without annoying those who have read the Consumed Trilogy, but some events cannot be repeated without sounding out of place.
Thank you. ♥
Dedication
For Ashky.
My rock.
My inspiration.
My love.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Prologue
Jackson
I remember the first time I met her…it was years ago.
***
Her dark red hair twirls across her shoulders and over the tops of her breasts—breasts that are almost pouring out of her tight, black dress. Have you ever met a girl so poisonous even a glance in your direction renders you powerless?
Her glassy black eyes catch mine and the damp beer bottle almost slips from my fingers. I tighten my grip. Her look, her presence, is enough to tangle you in her undoubtedly intricate web without as much as a touch from her sharp, venomous fangs. She’s gorgeous and dark, dangerous and beautiful, enticing you without a single word. Like a black widow spider, she’s ready to make something magical happen and she will…right before she devours you completely, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. That woman, the one watching me from the other side of the club, is Amelia Petrovic, the love of my life.
The devil in the guise of an angel.
The woman who will ruin me for all others.
From where she’s standing, she can’t tell I’m under age. Then again, the security guard at the door couldn’t either. I peer down the length of the bar to Seth, my best friend. Three women surround him, like birds to a piece of bread. His features are a lot more boyish than mine—prettier even, but women fall for it every time. I turn my sights back to the redhead, but she’s gone, and an irrational feeling of despair settles in my stomach.
“Amelia,” a woman says in my ear.
Her voice is husky and smooth all at once, like bourbon. I turn my head and there she is, the redhead, Amelia, up close and personal. Immediately, my stare falls to her lips. They’re swollen, as if she’s just been kissed, and their red hue stands out against her white porcelain skin. She leans even closer and suddenly, I’m fucking speechless. Her smell, cinnamon, engulfs me and I all but force myself to clear my throat. “Jackson.”
“Jackson,” she repeats, testing my name on the tip of her tongue. “I like it.”
I take a nervous sip of my beer and clench the neck to stop my hand from trembling. Fuck. I’ve never been so shaken up by a woman before. Not like this. She giggles confidently, and flicks her thick red hair over one shoulder, exposing a smooth strip of her neck. “Aren’t you a little young to be in a club, Jackson?”
I shake my head and force false confidence into my voice. “No, ma’am. I’m twenty-one.”
Even in the seedy lighting, I see her dark eyes flare. “You don’t have to lie to me. I can keep a secret.” My entire body stills as she reaches out and drags a long, red fingernail down my arm. “You’re bad, Jackson, and I like bad.”
I arch a brow. “You do?”
“Oh, yes.” She steps closer until her firm body presses against mine. “Show me how bad you can be.”
I frown. How do I be bad? I glance down. I don’t have any tattoos. I don’t smoke or do drugs. I drink occasionally, and the only fighting I do is in George’s MMA class after school. What she wants, I can’t give her…because that’s not me. Seth is the one who likes to fight, no matter where he is. He’s probably planned out all of his tattoos too, but the thought of pointing Amelia in Seth’s direction irks me.
“How?” I ask, despite my reservation.
I ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that hates that she’s making me feel like a child. Amelia scans the club and points out a tall man in the corner of the club chatting up a girl. “You see him?”
I nod.
“He looked at me. Go teach him a lesson.”
I look at Amelia. She can’t be serious. Looking isn’t a crime, and it’s not like she isn’t sexy, because she is—easily the sexiest woman in the entire club.
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell her. “I’m not going to hurt him because he looked at you.”
Her eyes, black in this light, flick over my face and she surveys me for a few long seconds before she shrugs her shoulders and smirks the darkest smirk I’ve ever seen. “Grow some balls, Jackson. Do it and I’ll show you things you’ll never forget.”
Holy fuck. That dirties the water a little bit. Punch an innocent man and have my world rocked, or get out of this messed up situation as quick as I can? As much as I’d like to see the things she can show me…I can’t bring myself to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.
“No, I’m not doing it.”
“We’ll see.” She hooks a finger around the collar of my black polo and tugs me into her. I don’t have time to register what’s happening before her mouth crashes with mine and she slips her tongue between my lips. My skin prickles with her presence, coating me in a layer of desire. Over and over, she rubs her tongue against mine, intoxicating me completely. Then, as my hands find her hips, she pulls away from me and storms off. I watch, dazed, as she crosses the bar and approaches the tall guy she wanted me to ‘teach a lesson’ to. There’s a sexy sway in her hips as she stands talking to him, and strangely, I don’t like it. I don’t know who she is, and I certainly don’t have any control over her, but I’m jealous just watching the two.
I jolt defensively as a heavy hand slaps down on my shoulder. “Jacks, ready to go?” Seth shouts in my ear. I glance at him and the pretty brunette he has tucked under his arm.
“A few more minutes,” I tell him, turning back to watch Amelia.
Her hands trail up his tattooed arm and into his spiky black hair. I ignore the jealous pang in the pit of my stomach. It’s irrational, I barely know the girl.
Then, she pulls him down and presses her lips to his. Something inside me snaps. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but I know what it is.
Jealousy.
I’ve never dealt with jealousy before, but it’s definitely jealousy tearing through my veins and forcing my fists to clench. I
surge forward, marching towards them like she’s mine. She isn’t, but she wants me to prove myself to her.
I should run. I should turn around and never look back. Amelia is clearly crazy, but there’s something about her that hits all of my buttons. I hear Seth call out for me, but I don’t turn around. My blood hums, pushing adrenaline around my body, and I know there’s no stopping the freight of emotions wanting to unload.
It all happens so fast…I pull Amelia away and swing at the tall asshole. My fist connects with the side of his head and he hunches over, clenching his face. Pain radiates through my hand and up my arm, but I’m too high on the moment to really notice it.
I’m barely able to get my bearings on the situation, or realize what I’ve done, before I’m grabbed from behind and my feet are yanked off the floor.
“There’s no fighting in here!” the man holding me booms as he squeezes me tighter in his grip. I don’t bother fighting him. Getting my ass kicked by a guard and being banned from my favorite Seattle club isn’t something I want to do tonight, so I allow him to dump me right outside the door and shove me down the sidewalk.
“Get off me, asshole,” Seth growls as the security guard tosses him out the door behind me.
The cool Saturday night air blows against my burning skin and I lean against the brick, flexing my fist and cradling my wrist. I was so wound up I didn’t even think to hit him properly.
“What the fuck, Jackson?” Seth snaps, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You hit a guy? What for?”
I glance at him. He’s just pissed I ruined his chance to score tonight. How he isn’t a teenage parent by now is beyond me. “Because I wanted to.”
I almost shudder at the truth in my statement. I wanted to hit that guy. I wanted to impress her.
“Well done,” Amelia purrs, stepping out the door of the club.
Seth steps aside and Amelia inches closer to me. I don’t appreciate the overt once over she gives Seth, but I’m not about to punch him too. The wild strands of her red hair are illumined by the street lights and I know, in this moment, that she isn’t going to be good for me. Regardless, my skin prickles, begging her to come closer.
“Do you have a phone?” she asks, extending her long-nailed hand.
Without a word, I pull it from my back pocket and slap it into her palm. I watch her dark features as she taps quickly over the screen, inserting her details. Then, she leans in, her lips grazing the shell of my ear.
“I’m going to love sinking my claws into you,” she whispers, kissing my cheek.
Amelia hands my phone back and I glance down at her name and number. When I look up, I see her back as she disappears into the club…
***
…and that was the first time I got twisted in Amelia’s shit, too young, horny, and stupid to see how psychotic she really was. And I paid for it.
Chapter One
Selena
With a dramatic huff, I blow my curls out of my face and hang my arm over the edge of the couch. The morning sun filters through the cracks in the cream drapes. I wish I could go outside and feel it on my pale skin. I’ve never been pale a day in my life. A golden tan has always been a requirement, but when you don’t leave the house, the tan won’t stay no matter how desperately you beg.
This is day three of my self-imposed isolation. I won’t leave my house and I’m doing it for my own emotional well-being, or whatever Olivia was preaching to me about. It seems whenever I leave my home, I end up at Jackson’s…and when I end up at Jackson’s, I end up naked on every surface in his house.
But not today. Today, I am a different woman.
If he refuses to nurture my emotions, then I refuse to nurture his sexual needs. My brain knows I’m mad at him, but no other organ cares. It seems anger is the most predominant emotion I experience when it comes to Jackson, an emotion that doesn’t seem to mean anything south of my panty line. It’s hard to feel anything other than anger when the person you love refuses to say it back or has a massive freak out whenever a serious conversation arises. Damaged is what that man is, and I have no idea how to fix him. God knows I’ve tried.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoes through the house and, with a jolt, I roll off the couch. My heart hammers in my chest, threatening to knock out a rib as I strain my ears in the immediate silence.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I frown, unsure what’s making the noise. Then it hits me!
“Shit! The muesli.”
I push myself to my feet and hurry to the kitchen. I make it, too, and even managed not to trip over my long, black bed pants.
I slap my hand over the microwave button and the door flies open. I jerk backwards with a squeak as muesli drips from the door and hits the white tiles. The once white interior of the microwave is now a light shade of brown and smells like cinnamon and burnt honey.
There goes breakfast.
I slump into myself. I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive here. I can’t even cook and I’m not about to live off bread. I look at least four months pregnant when I eat too many carbs. I’m contemplating giving up on eating in general until I hear a distinct knock on the front door.
I pause.
My skin prickles and I shiver at the thought of Jackson being on the other side of the door. For a moment, I survey the goosebumps on my arms, unsure if the tingles that tear through me are from fear or arousal. I drag in a slow inhale and slowly let it out. Unsurprisingly, I become hyper aware of the overwhelming pulse between my legs, and for a moment, my resolve wavers.
“Selena!” a feminine voice shouts through the heavy wooden door.
And just like that, all of my tingles and pulses cease to exist, and my resolve falls back into place.
Fuck Jackson.
With newfound pep, I bounce over to the front door and pull it open. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips when my stare locks with beautiful green baby eyes and full chubby cheeks.
“Chloe!” I say in my best ‘baby voice.’ “Have you come to visit your aunty? Yes, you did. Yes, you did!”
Her tiny mouth pulls into a wide, open-mouthed smile, exposing nothing but gums. Her plump little hands reach out to me from the sling that holds her to her daddy’s chest and I slip my index finger into her palms. I look at Olivia as Chloe’s hands wrap around my fingers and squeeze. Olivia smiles widely and swipes a stray lock of dark hair from her face. She looks much better than she did last week. No tired lines mark her features and no bags hang underneath her eyes.
“She’s finally sleeping through,” Olivia announces, her smile now rivaling Chloe’s.
“I noticed. You look great!”
I glance at Seth and it seems Olivia’s tired lines have found a new place to live. According to Olivia, he’s been working overtime at the gym and can barely keep up with all of the new members. Seth’s fighting career ended last year. Between the court cases, running the gym, and dealing with Chloe, he’s barely had time to sit down. It’s all over now, though. The case was settled and he was freed from his MMAC contract on terms I can’t even begin to pronounce. Still, I don’t think sleep is coming very easy for him.
“You look like shit,” I tell him and he smiles.
“Walked past a mirror this morning? You’re not exactly magazine material yourself.” He holds up two plastic bags in his hands. “We brought breakfast.”
I roll my eyes. They’re always calling me and inviting me to dinners and lunches at their home. Olivia knows I can’t cook and she’s worried I’m going to burn the house down or starve. Despite myself, my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten a decent meal in days, but I’m not about to admit that.
“What makes you think I need breakfast? Maybe I’ve already eaten.”
Seth quirks an eyebrow as Chloe releases my fingers. “Is that burned muesli I smell?”
With a snicker, Olivia pushes past me. “Let us in, Sel. We’re hungry.”
I sigh and step aside, letting Seth and Chloe inside. I watch them
closely as they pass by me and enter the house. Why do they care if I’m hungry? Why do they want to keep me company? Olivia especially. I could have ruined her marriage. If she wasn’t so…weird…who knows what kind of damage that stunt in Vegas could’ve done. I kissed her husband—twice—and she still claims me as her best friend. Granted, it wasn’t out of lust or sexual need, more for revenge on Seth’s opponent at the time, but still, it shouldn’t have happened. I shudder as Don’s face passes through my mind and I quickly shake it away. It happened over a year ago when Jackson and I were going through a very intense period in our ‘relationship.’ It has bothered me almost every day since it happened, but I don’t want to think about it today. I’ve apologized more than I can and whenever I bring it up or try to apologize again, it agitates Seth. He’s not exactly the nicest person on the planet so I think I’ll skip on pissing him off this morning. Olivia is lucky, though. Seth has a pretty nice set of lips on him.
I shut the door and follow them down to the kitchen. Olivia and Seth burst into laughter when they see the mess I’ve made. A strange, burned smell hangs in the air, but I pretend I can’t smell it in an attempt to soothe my own ego.
“How’d you burn muesli?” Olivia asks, fetching a cloth from the sink.
I shrug, leaning against the bench. “I forgot I put it in there.”
With a shake of her head, she starts to wipe down the mess as Seth sets down the bags on the bench. I watch, lazily, as they make their way around the large kitchen to prepare for breakfast. What I don’t expect is Seth to unclip his baby sling and hand Chloe to me. He pushes her against my chest and I feel my eyes widen as I wrap my arms around her and hold all of her tiny weight. Although she’s technically light, I wonder if all seven month old babies weigh as much as she does.