Demon (The Northern Kings MC #1)

Chapter Twenty Two

Demon

Ciara looked like she had seen a ghost. The colour drained from her face. The look of abstract fear replacing it. And anger rose from the pit of my stomach like a kraken unleashed. What the fuck had Cian done to her? But licking her lips, she continued, and I did everything I could not to let that anger explode inside of me.

“I told him I wouldn’t help him murder someone. He promised me he wouldn’t kill him. So, I said yes. I took O’Sullivan’s money, and I lured the Polish guy to the back of the building. I didn’t know what happed to him at the time. As soon as we were alone, O’Sullivan and his men followed. They took him off somewhere. But I could hear his screams as I left. I never looked back. I just took the money and got out of there. I never knew what they did to him. I thought they were killing him.

“That was until he found me nine months ago. I don’t know how he found me. I was in London. I’d had a few drinks after work. Nothing major, but enough to dampen my senses and miss the night bus. So, I walked home. I had my earphones in, listening to a podcast. And then suddenly someone grabbed me, pulling me into an alleyway. It all happened so fast.”

Ciara paused, struggling with the thoughts in her head. And inside mine the anger was boiling hot. I didn’t know what she was going to tell me. I didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

“There were four of them. At first, I thought they were trying to mug me. Or worse.”

Her voice wavered at that point; her eyes filled with fear.

“But then I recognised him. Marek Novak. And I knew then he recognised me. He held up his right hand. It was hideous. He, he…”

“He was missing fingers?”

Ciara nodded. “How did you know that?” she asked.

“Cian likes to chop body parts off. His favourite thing to do is take someone’s fingers. Followed by their hands and their… well, I’m sure you get it.”

She nodded. “He had nothing left on his right hand. There was a hand. Just no fingers. Or a thumb. What was left was all gnarled. He said it was all down to me. And that he was going to make me pay.”

I swallowed, not knowing whether I could listen to this. But I’d coaxed this much out of her. And now I had to listen to the rest. No matter how hard that was going to be.

“Two of his men got hold of my arms, pinning them behind my back, holding me still. Then he took out this knife. It was fucking huge. Not like a flick knife. Like a hunting knife. He cut my shirt open first, and I could hear them all muttering and humming. And then he cut my bra off. I thought he was going to… you know. That might have been the plan later.”

Ciara paused again, her breath catching as I forced mine to stay steady.

“Then he pushed the tip up against my throat. He told me he was going to cut things off me. I was so scared I was shaking. There was no one around, not even passing the top of the street. And even if I wanted to scream, to cry for help. I couldn’t. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even find the words to beg. I don’t really know what happened next. There was a noise behind him, a metal bin crashing to the ground. He jumped. So, I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could.”

“And you escaped?” I asked, desperate for this story to end. Desperate not to hear anymore.

Ciara shook her head.

“It only made him angrier. He slashed the knife at my face. I think I must have turned slightly. I thought he was coming for my throat. I thought I was going to die. The knife caught my cheek. It didn’t hurt at first. Not at first,” she whispered. Closing her eyes as if she felt that same pain again.

“I dunno what happened next, really. I screamed. I remember that. And there were voices from the street. A commotion. Maybe there was a siren? I can’t really remember. The man with the knife nodded and his men just let go of me. Then he said he would find me again. And when he did, he would cut me to pieces bit by bit. I’ve been running from the Polish mafia ever since. I’m never sure whether they find me. But sometimes I feel like I’m being watched, like they’re there.”

“And so, you run. Every time,” I added.

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I pack up and I leave. So, I can never promise you I’ll always be here. Because I may have to go tomorrow.”

The realisation of those words hit me harder than the story she had just told me. Despair. The thought of her just up and running. The thought of never seeing her again. That diluted the anger, condensing it to dread, to fear, to a sadness deeper than anything I’d ever imagined before.

“I’m sorry, Demon,” she whispered.

I muffled the words with my lips. Kissing her gently, distracting my brain from the ache of loss, even though I hadn’t lost her yet. For a moment we stayed like that, careful gentle kisses, until I pulled away.

“I can keep you safe, Ciara.”

She looked up at me, a mix of longing and sadness in her rich brown eyes.

“I can,” I added. “If I make you my ol’lady, the club will protect you. It’s our rule. One in all in. Ol’ ladies are protected under that.”

“Sounds like the musketeers,” she mumbled.

“Guess it is. All MCs follow the rule. There are loads of rules, but that’s one of the most important ones. That and no one talks to the police.”

“No grasses, eh?”

“Aye, that’s right. Even if it helps your defence. You never talk to the police. So, what do you say?”

“Nothing. No comment.”

Smile lines animated her face, and I couldn’t help but let the wide grin join her, seeping across my face, that warm fuzzy feeling taking over the cavity in my chest where a heart was supposed to be.

“I mean, will you be my ol’ lady?”

“Sounds like a marriage proposal,” she shrugged.

“Not yet, darlin’. But just keep letting me fuck you like you do, and it might be.”

The lines on her face moved again, dragging her mouth into that gorgeous smile, the scar pulling at her skin. I swiped my thumb just underneath it, feeling the rough edges. She was stunning with that scar, and I’d never known her without it, but it was deep and red, and it marred those perfect features and that beautiful face. I slid my hand around the back of her head, securing my fingers into her hair, pulling her to me. Then, lightly, I pressed my lips to her cheek, kissing the damaged skin.

“Be mine,” I whispered against her.

“Maybe,” she answered. “Let me sleep on it.”

I nodded, scooping her up off her feet and carrying her to the bed. She was so light. Too light. At her height, she should carry more weight. The only real flesh on her were those amazing tits. Ciara needed looking after, whether she wanted it or not. Sitting her gently on the bed, I tugged the covers from underneath, my knuckles brushing against the exposed skin of her legs from the cut of denim shorts she wore as a uniform.

If she was mine, I would make sure everyone knew it. Everyone. I’d tattoo my mark on that beautiful skin. On her thigh, maybe? Or on her tits where every man’s eye went. Wherever they looked, they’d know she belonged to me. I just needed her to say it.

Ciara wriggled out of the shorts, a white lace thong underneath. Inviting. And then she unbuttoned the shirt, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor next to the bed. Then she reached for the covers. I caught her hand, stopping her.

“Forgotten something?” I asked, glancing at her chest and the white bra that she’d neglected to remove.

Ciara rolled her eyes, but pulled her arms around her back, unclasping the matching white lace that covered her perfect tits. Hiding those suckable pink nipples. The flesh moved a little. A tiny dip from where the bra supported them. Fuck, they were stunning. They were my favourite part of her. I would never get bored sucking on those. Ever. She smiled at me, something naughty glistening in her eyes. Fuck.

“Give me a minute,” I said, as she sat there with her tits staring straight at me. “Just gonna let Kinobi out for a wee. Then I’ll be right back.”

I could fucking swear that dog was taking the piss. Her head bobbed again, sniffing the patch of grass on the verge separating the pavement and the road. And still, she didn’t squat her little tan and black ass down. It had been a full five minutes and still no wee. Fuck’s sake. It would be daylight before I managed to bury my dick into Ciara’s tight cunt at this rate. Kinobi sniffed another piece of grass, raising her front paw slightly and then putting it down again and moving on.

Eventually, three stops later, she dropped, squatting to the floor, and releasing the longest wee I’d ever known her to have. It was as if she was forcing every drop of fluid from her body. And then, just like that, she stood up, back onto all fours, looked me sharply in the eye and turned, tugging me home. There was a message there. If I could be bothered to read into it.

By the time I padded into my room, after convincing Kinobi she was spending the night by herself in the fleecy bed in the living room, Ciara was breathing slowly. Her hands were tucked up under the side of her head, her pink lips pushed together. Peaceful. Stripping down to my boxers, I climbed in behind her, pulling her into the crook of my body, her flesh warm against me. She didn’t stir. Her breathing continuing in that slow, shallow rhythm.

I closed my eyes, listening to her next to me. But in the darkness, anger and fear gathered, swarming in the blackness of sleep that threatened to take me. And despite the peaceful beauty lying next to me, I could see the men that held her still, saw the hand cutting off her clothes, and the slashing of the knife. Headless apparitions finding their way into my mind, stoking the anger I’d done my best to hide from Ciara. And now, as her heart slowed into that gentle sleep, mine marched on into the night, full of vengeance, rage and a sprinkling of anxiety. Sleep was as elusive as ever.