Page 49 of Diary of a Biker Queen

I didn’t speak to anyone else. Violet grabbed my hand as I passed her, and she squeezed it reassuringly, but I could feel everyone else’s gazes following me, right up until I slipped inside Lynx’s room.

I tried sitting on the mattress, the springs giving a squeak of protest at having to accommodate my weight. Even through the door I could hear the hushed conversations, everyone so sure Lynx had murdered a woman in cold blood and left her body barely past the Slayers’ gates as some sort of…what? Tribute? Warning? Prize? None of it made any sense to me, but I seemed to be the only one on Lynx’s side.

Except maybe for Reaper, I knew him better than anyone. And my entire body twitched, knowing that Lynx was out there somewhere, and that something was very wrong. I opened the window and sucked in deep breaths of cold night air.

I knew he hadn’t done this. Triggered or not, he was not that man.

I fell asleep in sheets that smelled like him, knowing with every inch of my being, no matter how bad it looked, of this crime Lynx was not guilty.

My dreams turned into nightmares within moments of closing my eyes. One minute, everything was fine in my head, and in the next, everything was all wrong. Blood spilled across white floors. Virginia’s unseeing eyes stared up at me, but her mouth moved, saying my name over and over, begging me to save her.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, my kicking and thrashing around the bed keeping me too aware, the sheets crumpling into a ball somewhere at the bottom, sweat breaking out across my skin and plastering my hair to my face.

When I woke with screaming in my head, I was sure it was about to come out of my mouth as well.

But then strong arms tightened around me, a warm chest at my back, and the scream died on my tongue. I locked my hands on to his fingers and breathed in unison with him, letting the slow, steady breaths regulate my nervous system until the panic of the dream slipped away.

I held Dax’s hands to me tighter and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The relief he hadn’t wanted to go the whole night apart sank in. I hadn’t realized how much it had truly bothered me that he’d wanted to sleep in separate rooms.

I tried to go back to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, another nightmare would start up, and they flew open again, my breaths once more too fast and my heartbeat like galloping horses.

He shifted behind me in his sleep, and I pushed back against him over and over, trying to calm myself down. But each time I tried, the nightmares got worse, until I didn’t want to sleep at all.

I was too scared to.

His fingers stroked my belly until he fell asleep again, but selfishly, I didn’t want him to. Because when he slept, so did I.

And then the nightmares started all over.

So the next time he stroked my belly, I pressed my hands over his and drew them lower, down my belly and between my thighs.

He sleepily rubbed me there; in the same way he’d been absentmindedly rubbing my stomach. I closed my eyes and let the feel of his fingers on my clit, rubbing circles through my underwear, permeate through my entire body. Head to toe, muscle by muscle, his touch scared away the stress and fear. His dick grew hard at my back, prodding insistently at my ass in a way that had me reaching down to take off my panties.

I moaned at the skin-to-skin contact, no barriers between us. I reached back for him, holding his hip, dragging him in tight so his much bigger body enveloped mine. I shoved his shorts down, freeing his cock, it instantly finding the space between my thighs, like it had always meant to reside there. He was hot and hard, and his dick took over from what his fingers had started. He slid along my slit, not penetrating me but working me up, stimulating my clit and coating himself in my arousal.

“Fuck, Nyah,” he said, voice full of sleepy gravel.

It took a second to realize that even thick with sleep, that was not Dax’s voice.

I flipped over and realized I was in someone else’s arms.

“Lynx!” I whisper-shouted in the darkness.

His eyes flew open, and he blinked a few times, trying to clear them. When they focused, he said softly, “Yeah, it’s me.”

I sank back down, my heart suddenly feeling less like it was about to burst out of my chest. Maybe I should have been scared. Everyone was saying this man had killed a woman just hours ago. A woman I cared about a lot.

And yet I knew he hadn’t.

All I cared about was he was here with me, not out there on the streets somewhere, alone where no one had his back.

I might have been the only one under this roof who still did, but I was better than no one. A sob fueled by relief rose up my throat, taking me by force.

“Hey. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice cracked. “You know that, right?”

The last bit was such a sincere question that my fucking heart broke.