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Once we’re out in the fresh air, I drag in a deep breath, and it brings some life back into me. It’s been so long since I’ve been outside, and even though it’s winter, it’s a mild, breezy night.
“Get in.” Madden orders as he opens the door to the black truck sitting in the driveway.
I do as he says, staying quiet for the short duration of the ride to the clubhouse. I didn’t get a chance to check out the scenery on the way to my prison cell, so I’m taking the opportunity now. The beautiful mixture of red and burnt copper in the desert landscape stretches farther than I can see. I don’t know how big the compound is, but it’s large enough for plenty of space between the stucco houses we pass along the way. I think if there was a chance I could escape, it would be easy to slip away unseen, but the terrain looks unforgiving, and I don’t know how I’d get over the massive wall and back to the highway.
A sense of hopelessness weighs me down as I consider that I don’t really have the energy to run. Or, more accurately, I’m not even sure I want to. My freedom on the outside means going back to the streets. Sequestering myself with Eden and fighting every day for survival. The thought isn’t as appealing as it once was when I have a place to sleep every night and food in my belly every day. The downside is I’m a prisoner of a man who clearly hates me.
I peek over to study his profile as he drives, and I find myself getting lost in his details. Something about him is so magnetic it grabs me and refuses to let go. On the outside, I can see why he was so beloved by his fans. He’s wrapped in a beautiful package with a strong, silent, and larger-than-life presence. But his eyes betray the tortured soul still trapped within. One he’s tried to mask with hard glances and roughly spoken words. And beneath all that is the flame that still burns for a woman I don’t know and can never be, no matter how much he wants me to.
When he stops in front of the clubhouse and glances at me, I find myself wishing I could be her. If only so I knew that fire in his eyes was mine to harness. That I could invoke a passion unrivaled by any other, undying in the face of time.
“No games.” His threat rolls off his tongue like a dark promise. “You try to run—”
“I won’t like the consequences,” I finish for him.
For some perverse reason, nothing has ever felt more like a lie. Because the thought of him giving chase and capturing me twists me up inside, scorching me in the cab of his truck beside him.
He holds my gaze before his eyes reluctantly dip to my mouth. I try to suppress the shiver that moves through me as my lips part and my nipples tighten. His eyes flash with heat, triggering an audible memory of the pleasure that bled from his throat when he came between my thighs last night.
I wonder what he’d think if he knew I used his come to finger myself on the couch before I fell asleep. And before that, I licked the evidence of his hatred from my lips so I could taste it. How would he react to the disturbing thoughts playing through my mind all day?
Thoughts of him pressing me down into the bed, the solid weight of his body between my thighs as he buries himself deep and slams into me. A deranged part of me wants those things, and I don’t know why. But she can’t be silenced, even as a whisper of logic reminds me he’s thinking of someone else.
“Let’s go.”
His rough command snaps me back to reality as he gets out of the truck and gestures for me to walk inside ahead of him. I’m grateful for the reprieve from his gaze if only so mine doesn’t betray my feelings.
Judging by the long row of motorcycles lined up out front and the loud music filtering out from inside, it’s safe to assume the clubhouse is packed tonight. I didn’t get much of a chance to take it all in the first time I saw it, but when we step inside, I pause to do just that. As I suspected, a lot of people are here. Most of the men don their leather Beards of War vests, and the women are either wearing jeans or tight dresses and high heels. Through the throng of bodies, I spot some pool tables and well-used furniture scattered around the place. The bar at the back doesn’t have a seat to be spared until a familiar face swivels around and catches my gaze.
