Page 6 of Shatter

She laughs - loudly - and slaps me on the shoulder.

"Unless he's Henry Cavill, I don't want him," she says, taking another long sip from her drink. She's in her late thirties now, and I know she's going to be feeling it tomorrow.

"Alright, princess. Let's get you up to bed. I'll tuck Elijah in when he's done playing with the girls." I stand, offering my hand to Cass, who thankfully takes it.

I let her say goodbye to everyone and tell Elijah where we're going before wrapping my arm around her waist and walking us towards the attached hotel. The buildings in this resort are only four stories high, so everyone can have a nice view of the slopes, so it's not a long walk to anywhere.

"What about you, big guy? What kind of woman would knock you on your ass?"

My mind instantly flashes an image of honey-blonde hair and long eyelashes.

I shake my head and shake away the image. It's not that I don't think I deserve love, or that I don't believe in love. I just don't believe love is for me. I'm in my thirties and have never even had a girlfriend. No one has shown any interest in getting to know me. One-night stands; sure. Playthings for primal nights; sure. I know my way around a woman's body and can make sure she enjoys herself as much as I do.

But I'm scarred. Close to half my body is covered in rough, jagged scars from when my house caught on fire as a child. I don't take my clothes off in front of anyone because the scars are a lot for anyone to process. Any they shouldn't have to. My scarring is not their responsibility.

Who's going to date or marry someone who doesn't take their clothes off? Who's going to date or marry someone so disfigured? I'm certainly not someone a woman wants to 'take home to mom'. I'm six-six, two-hundred and thirty pounds of ugly, scarred muscle. I own a sex club with my best friends. I'm not exactly husband material.

And I've accepted that. I love watching my friends fall in love, and that's enough for me. They're my family. I don't need anyone else. Yes, I find myself envious of their easy intimacy with each other. And I like the idea of falling asleep with a woman wrapped in my arms. I like the idea of waking up with someone and doing the small, mundane things with them. Of sharing a life with someone.

But I have Declan, Daniel, and Cass for that. And now Serenity, Nell, Cammy, Danny, Elijah, and another niece or nephew on the way.

My life is full.

I don't need anyone else.

"Does Henry Cavill have a sister?"

Chapter three

Harrison

Amonth later, and I'm back at my desk, staring at the cursed thing in front of me. My signature stares back at me menacingly. My fingers flex in agitation, creasing the sheet of paper in my hands.

I signed her application. Of course I had. I receive an application, do the background check, and approve or deny every single one.

For whatever reason, the Melody Snow that submitted her application months ago never registered to me as my Melody Snow.

Not that she's mine. I mean, the Melody Snow that I know. My older brother's step-daughter. My step-niece. I wince.

Background check came back unremarkable. Finances were managed by a trust - not at all unusual - we get a lot of trust fund babies who join.

And I approved her freaking application.

I could rescind it. Cancel it. But the acid churning in my gut tells me I won't. I hate the thought of someone else defiling her. She must be going through a self-destructive phase where she thinks primal play will somehow cure whatever she's got going on. But it won't.

Nina: She's here

Damnit. My molars grind, and a muscle in my jaw pops.

It's primal night again.

She's not going to give this up.

I flick on the monitor to watch as Nina takes Mel's jacket from her and as she walks into The Green Room. The Green Room is where people mingle, watch a show, and have a drink before securing a private room, a theme room or going into The Red Room, where everything is fair game.

Pushing up from my desk, I storm down the hallway into The Green Room. I don't have a plan, but I know no one else is touching her tonight. She's too good for anyone else in this club. She's way too good for me, but she's still too good for anyone else.

When I turn the corner, she's sitting on one of the stools at the bar and crosses her legs. She's internationally famous and stunningly gorgeous - so she's turning more than a few eyes.