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Christian thumps the dash so hard I jump. “I didn’t fucking force you and you know it. Safe word? Remember? You wouldn’t use it.”
“You violated me.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not.” I try and find the words, but my mind is in a million pieces, stretched in so many directions. “Not physically, but you took advantage.”
“Of what, Mia? The fact asshole monsters raped you?” He pushes the words through clenched teeth, like he doesn’t want to say the words, like it makes him dirty.
And that’s everything I fear.
That I dragged him down into the muck with me. Where it’s okay to play but not to live.
“If I thought anything we did last night and this morning would be like that I would never, ever have touched you. You’re mine and you know it. You could have used the word and I’d have walked away. You know that.”
I want a fight. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
He’s right, and I hate that. I practice breathing slow and steady and calming, but I’m a mess inside. I feel that chaos rushing in my veins. “Christian . . .”
“We’ll talk about this later, sweetness. Take your time.”
And now, he’s being understanding? Sweet? Patient? Who is this man? I’m glad I’m sitting because the ground beneath my feet isn’t solid anymore and it keeps moving about. I curl my toes in my shoes.
“You want to call Angel or Reaper?” he asks.
“They know we’re coming.”
“Yep. At least no one was hurt. The fire was after hours.”
I don’t tell him after hours when I’m sometimes there, working until almost daylight and then going to the apartment to sleep or out to my property if I’m not coming in that day. Working until then to keep the demons at bay. Working when no one knows I am.
It’s a stupid game, apparently dangerous because while I thought no one knew I did that, someone did.
Or else they didn’t and I’m jumping to conclusions.
When we pull up there are some motorcycles there and a car. The gravel crunches beneath my feet as Christian leads me in. Smoke hangs heavy in the air, and the back half of the place is blackened, but Hellfire is still standing.
“Talk about an appropriate name,” I mutter.
Christian’s hand is warm and comforting on my upper arm. I don’t even try and untangle the conflicting emotions of that with the need I had to get away, to strike out and push.
Seeing this is real.
“Boss.” Andrew is there, worry etched on his face.
“Andrew,” I say. “Did anyone see anything?”
“No, I wasn’t on yesterday.” He says this like the fire is his fault and I pat his arm as we go in.
Water puddles the floor and voices ring out from my office. As we go past the bar, and down the hall, Christian greets the guys in there.
Angel is sitting on my desk and Reaper stands, legs apart, arms crosses and glowering. I know the three others who are going over a report. They step out, clearly there to make sure I’m okay, wanting to see that with their own eyes.
I know what a lot of people think about the men in a motorcycle club, but this lot are cubs. To me, anyway. Like Christian, Leo and Theo, they will all kill with their bare hands if they have to and if their property is threatened.
This is their property and I’m considered a sister to them all.
