“Yeah? Then stop accepting. He’s my brother. That trumps your friend shit.” I gulp another mouthful of the sticky-sweet drink, already feeling nauseous. I shouldn’t be drinking. It will make my cramps worse by dehydrating me. And I need to take my medication soon. I set down the drink and pick up an open bottle of water on the table, not caring whose germs I’m ingesting.
I swallow as much as possible, hoping to flush the two mouthfuls of alcohol. “And another thing, why aren’t you riding your bike? It’s not your bike. I stayed because I thought it wasn’t your bike.”
He shrugs those sexy shoulders, his eyes locked on me. That unblinking stare is the same one he gave me while he was eating me like Christmas dinner between my legs. When he lights one of those thin cigars that smell delicious, I scowl, waiting for his answer.
“I like to change things up, Countess.”
Suddenly, the pain in my pelvis gets worse, and I know my period is seconds from appearing. Hopefully, I haven’tbled through my shorts. Fuck. I need to get to the bathroom, hopefully not one occupied with my friends having sex. Either way, I’ll have to stand up in front of him, walk past him like I didn’t have my legs over his shoulder and my pussy buried in his mouth. Fuck it. Oh well, if I bled through my shorts. Not that he’d probably give a shit. He’d probably laugh and call me a little girl again. The asshole has zero emotions. The dismissive way he treated me after giving me the best orgasm of my life, then told me to fuck off, still makes me cringe. I have no intention of staying with him alone. I wince when I stand; a sharp shooting pain pierces my back. Shit. This is going to be a bad one.
Chapter 41
She’s in pain.
I can sense it. I detect every wince Camryn’s made since she walked in and headed straight for her brother.
Her anger didn’t push me away. I like it when she fights me and pushes back. What I said to her the day behind the tattoo shop was a lie. Told to create the distance I needed to keep from taking her back to my cabin and never letting her leave. She’s angry with me, and I want her to stay angry with me. I want her to hate me even as I want her to open her legs and let me fuck her until she can’t speak, too hoarse and too exhausted to do more than lie there with my cum covering her body, leaking from inside her.
And my hunger has only gotten worse since I watched her cuddle her niece. It did something to me, something I shouldn’t feel. Protective. Hungry. Hungry to see her hold my child. The thought nearly leveled me. I have never thought about a child of my own. I’ve been ruthless in my prevention of kids, rarely fucking after I got out of the Marines, and never going bare in a woman. Even in my teens, I was careful because the thought of having a child was non-existent with the way my family lived.But seeing Camryn, the woman whose pussy is still fresh in my mouth, whose cries still sound too damn real when I lie in bed at night, holding the small baby on her chest, made me feral, filled with a reckless need to fuck her raw and impregnate her.
And that is why I shouldn’t have come. That is why I should have stayed in the shop like I told Onyx I would, because this is the damn problem. This need for her. Coming here tonight was a risk. I knew it, and I should have kept my ass at the shop. Not putting Jace, his new daughter, and fiancée at risk. But I couldn’t stay away, not even after Jace’s warning. His request is still fresh in my mind.
When I showed up earlier, he looked at me. I acted like I agreed to that unspoken message, as if I agreed to stay away from her. I lied straight to his face. I’m willing to abide by his request to an extent, but when she and I are alone, nothing else matters. Not the threats being directed at the Legion. At me. Normally, I don’t live in a world of compromise. I can’t afford to. There’s just black and white. But here I am dabbling in the gray, compromising my rules about women, about things other than my revenge against the Mestizos, just so I can see her in person. I drove an unrecognizable bike, leaving my distinctive all-black motorcycle parked behind the shop, which gave the illusion that I was still at the shop in case anyone was watching.
The Mestizos are becoming increasingly reckless and brutal. Taking women off the street in broad daylight now. The police are doing nothing, and from my sources, even the FBI is laying low, not wanting to jump the gun and pick up the low-level animals. They want El Jefe, and so do I. But instead of hunting that animal, I’m here. A place that has no room for a man like me. Bright and sunny. Babies being fed, Wives and fiancés chatting. Good food. Big ass men, all soft and pretty when it comes to their women. Not something I’ve seen before. Even with Onyx, he didn’t show affection, partly because Ivory washardened. She loved Onyx, but her assault changed her, made her more closed off. My mother’s bastard of a husband only showed physical affection when he was fucking her or beating her. This gentle petting is not something I’m familiar with.
Sloane and his son are also here. New is that he’s now engaged to the curvy red-headed doctor he was salivating over in the club all those months ago. Good for him. Riggs has something going on with the beautiful Jacqueline, but I know why he holds himself back. Everything in the club is tenuous, including his position, and with the way he travels, he’s gone for months at a time. But what’s startling is Onyx. He’s been watching the young mother, Nova, and her daughter, Roxi. I saw them once when Onyx and I were eating in the diner. She was on guard, ready to step in and protect her daughter. Mother bear vibes were written all over her. I recognized the timid looks, the fear. She’s been hurt, probably abused by the little girl’s father. Onyx watched while the little girl moved crayons on the table. The little girl is a tiny replica of her mother — all hair and eyes.
Onyx grumbled, tracking them with his eyes every time she had to serve male customers. But the worst was when Roxi spotted Onyx and hid behind her mother’s legs. Once our order was taken, I could feel the anger radiating off my friend. “Why would she be scared of men? She’s six years old.”
“You know why she’s afraid.”
“Bastard.” The rage in Onyx’s eyes was potent. I knew what he was thinking. Angel had died around her age. It was fortunate that the woman’s husband wasn’t around. The ache in my chest spreads with the memory of my niece.
When Camryn gets up and walks up the slight incline, I forget about my dead sister and niece. She moves slowly toward her brother’s mansion. My eyes are glued to her form, picking up on her slightly hunched frame, the ginger way she walks,her hand covering her lower tummy. I study every painful step, wondering what’s causing it.
Her brother is out of sight, most likely fucking his fiancée in one of his many bathrooms, and I set down my mostly untouched beer. I follow her like the stalker I am as she slips into the massive house. I want to know what’s making her face so pale. I breathe in her scent, using it to tell me her direction. I follow and hear the quick snap of a door. I climb the steps, realizing she’s going to the same bathroom that we were trapped in for a stolen moment all those months ago.
Chapter 42
“Great. Freaking great,” I grumble, staring down at the blood on the tissue paper. I knew it was coming, but not two days early if my calculations are correct. Must be the stress. Yeah. The stress of one 6’7 tattooed man with a bad attitude and a talented tongue.
Luckily, the ensuite bathroom I use when I visit Jace was empty. Everyone else was getting their freak on in one of the other six bathrooms Jace had built in the house. Along with building multiple bathrooms, Jace is also a great host and leaves period things in every bathroom. He’s the only one who knows how bad my period can get and always leaves me the specific products I use.
I clean up and put in my period cap. Tampons irritate me, and forget about pads. The materials wreak havoc on my skin, not to mention that my period flow is heavy, and it’s not worth the energy to have to change a pad every 10 minutes. Washing my hands, I breathe through the intense cramping that’s already starting. By tonight, the pain will be unbearable. I need to get home and take my medication, which I carelessly forgot.
Opening the door, I yelp in fright when the man I’ve been trying to avoid is standing just outside the door. “Shit!” I bump into the wood. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Are you in pain?”
“What?”
“You’re in pain.”
He says it like a statement, and for the life of me, I can’t understand what the fuck is happening right now, and I’m too bloated to care. Interpreting his mercurial moods is pissing me off. Rather than answer him, I inch past, wanting to get home so I can crawl under the covers and weather my pain. The manacle on my arm startles me.
“I asked you a question.”
His hand is rough, calloused. It feels hot on my skin. The last time he touched me was on my inner thigh, but that time he was wearing gloves, fucking me with his gloved fingers. He’s so strong, and I know his hold is going to leave bruises, and I don’t care. I’m angry enough at him that feeling the abrasions only makes the mix of emotions inside me worse. It feels good, really good. And despite his asshole behavior, I want his touch all over my body. Ready to strike back, I yank at my arm, trying to break free. It’s useless. He’s too strong, so I ask a question of my own. “Why do you care? You like staying away from me, remember?”
