Ryder (Phoenix MC #1)

Twenty-Six

T hey finally let me out of the damn infirmary the next day, with strict instructions to rest, and to return for my bandages to be changed daily, but where did they release me to? Ryder’s damn quarters, because apparently, that’s where I live now.

I was frustrated by a few things when I was deposited in the room on the sofa. Firstly, there were boxes stacked up in the room, which Ryder firmly declared were my things from my flat. They’d emptied the place out, and moved me in. On his say-so. Without my agreement.

In addition to that, we no longer had a door on the damn bathroom . Yeah, he’d removed it, or he’d had someone do it for him. That one I could sort of understand, but it frustrated me that any option for privacy had been taken away from me. Suddenly he was in every aspect of my life, and I had no escape. Was this really any better than the way Dom had treated me?

Unfortunately yes . Because Ryder hadn’t touched me, except to help me in here. He hadn’t tried anything. He hadn’t even talked about doing anything. He was insisting on sharing the bed, like we’d done before, but that was it.

“There’s a curtain,” he said, watching me glaring at the door-less bathroom.

“What?”

He walked across the room, and reached in, pulling a heavy curtain across the doorway. Oh great. That was my only barrier to hide behind. Bastard .

“That’s not very appropriate.”

He shrugged as he returned. “Not giving you the chance to be hurting yourself in there again, without me being able to get in.”

“So you’ve taken away every ounce of privacy instead?”

He pointed at the curtain. “That’s plenty. It’ll keep you hidden from eyes, but you can’t hurt yourself again.”

He dropped down on his knees in front of me.

“I can’t lose you, Tori. I was so fucking scared. Please don’t do that to me again.” He rested his head on my lap, his hands looping around my hips. Why didn’t I panic? I don’t know. Maybe because he wasn’t being predatory. He was being sweet. Honest. Open. Vulnerable. I did stiffen though, and he felt it. He sighed, lifting his head again.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t touch you, it’s just being back in here with you. It all came back, and to be fair, we actually had to remove the door, or what was left of it.”

I frowned at him, and he shrugged, looking a little ashamed.

“I uh… practically kicked it off the hinges. They were buckled and useless.”

Oh . I stared at the curtain over the door. When I’d taken the terrifying decision to end things, I hadn’t considered him, not really. Why would I? He was just a person who’d found his way into my life. He wasn’t a loved one, nor was I to him, but why hadn’t I considered just how badly it would affect him, to find me bleeding to death, wanting to die?

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

He took a breath, holding it for a moment, before he let it go.

“Jesus… I feel like I’m your bitch. I mean, I’m on my knees, begging you to never leave me. No wonder you have no respect for me. Is this what I was like in that bar? Is that the real reason why Alicia chose me?”

I frowned, as he seemed to start backing away, but not physically, it was internal; an emotional retreat. I caught his hand as he finally started moving.

“She chose you for one reason, Ryder, just one.”

He stopped moving, and stared back up at me.

“What reason?”

His thumb was stroking my palm, and it was nice. Gentle. Soothing.

“Because you were hot, and looking for a hook up.”

He stared down at our hands for a moment, that thumb never slowing or stopping.

“I never went out looking for a hook up. It’s not… I mean, we have girls here for that. I was just out having fun, but I’ll take the compliment. Look…”

He finally looked at me again. “I think we need to move past how we met. I know it was fucked up, and bizarre… and… illegal, I guess… but it led to now. To us . Am I the only one who feels something?”

I nibbled at my lip. “I mean, what you should feel is hatred, revulsion, disgust, anger… those are the emotions I deserve from you, because it’s how I feel about Dom.”

He sighed, squeezing my hand tighter.

“That’s not answering the question I asked though, is it?”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked away from him for a moment, trying to corral my thoughts into something I could say out loud, that he hadn’t already heard from me time and time again, and I heard him groan softly.

“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to say that you feel something big for me right now. Can you just try not to rule it out? I feel like this is where we’re both meant to be now.”

“And what if I don’t?” I asked him, not wanting to look at him, but feeling like I owed him that at least.

He shrugged. “So if we give it some time, and you still feel that way, I won’t stop you leaving.” I doubted that he meant those words, because he’d been pretty clear before, hadn’t he?

“You said you wouldn’t let me leave.”

He groaned, getting up from the floor, that emotional distance growing between us once more.

“I say a lot of things! Look, I don’t want you to fucking go, okay? I want you here with me, all the damn time. I want you on my bike with me, I want to make breakfasts with you, and have drinks downstairs in the clubhouse with my brothers and you. You’re the one thing that makes all of those things seem perfect.”

His words made it seem like maybe those things could actually work, but he’d managed to avoid mentioning one thing.

“And what about sex?”

He cursed, running his hands through his hair. He did that quite often when he talked to me. Was it a stress thing? A frustration thing? Or was it just that he liked how silky his hair was? I remembered it from that night I’d used him. I’d gripped it in my fists as I rode him. I almost wished I could go back to that one night. When everything had been perfect .

“Look, I’m not gonna say no, if you decide you want to fuck, but I also know that’s probably not going to happen any time soon,” he said finally, dragging my attention back from that night. I’m sure my cheeks were more than a little pink.

“What if it never happens? What if I can never, ever feel safe with you like that? I was messed up before we met. Before what happened with Dom for the second time. How do we know what I’ll be able to do?”

He headed for the kettle. “It’s all a mass of what if, what if, babe. Right now all I know is, I want a cup of fucking coffee, and I want to work on making this place nice for both of us.”

Stubbornness was definitely a thing with these damn bikers.

“If you’re making coffee…”

“Yeah, babe. I’m making you one too.”

He did make good coffee, so maybe that was a good start.

“I can help.”

“Don’t you dare move off that fucking sofa, woman.”

He’d shot me a fierce look when he said that, but all it did was make me smile. Maybe we had enough to build on, if he really, truly didn’t resent me for what I’d done to him.

Ryder

T he next few days were… not pleasant, exactly… but bearable. She’d agreed to sleep in the same bed with me, but she always put as much space between us as she could, and I was wearing damn lounge pants to sleep in, which I hated, because the damn things always get all twisted, and I end up with a fucking wedgie in the middle of the night.

She’d adapted to the lack of a bathroom door, and insisted on changing her clothes behind the curtain each morning, which was a damn shame because I wanted to see her without clothes, but I knew it might be a long time before she let me.

We also hadn’t broached the old lady thing any further. She didn’t know what it entailed. There wasn’t a big ceremony as such, but she would be officially welcomed to the club as my old lady, in front of all of my brothers.

First I had to announce it to them at the table too. Not that I imagined there would be any issues from anyone. It’s not really any of their business, and hopefully most of them didn’t know how we’d first met. That was a secret I’d prefer to take to my fucking grave, if only to protect her from their reactions.

The other part she would probably go nuts about; the tattoo. We’re all about permanence here, because like Reacher said, old ladies are for life. Tattoos were about cementing that bond. I’d be getting her name tattooed on me, but she’d be getting something very different. I just had to work out how to tell her.

We’d fallen into a tentative pattern. Now that she was moving around more, she was cooking breakfast each morning, and for dinner, we were having someone bring in a takeaway. Otherwise we just snacked when we wanted, and I made all the coffee. I was cool with that.

Keeping her from getting bored was more difficult. From her place, there had been a stack of books, so I’d made sure that they were unpacked for her, but she was struggling to concentrate on reading, and kept starting and stopping different books. I’d been surprised that she even had things like books, if she’d been living like a damn nomad, moving from town to town now and then, but she’d explained that she always bought books, and donated them each time she moved on.

I picked up one of the books she’d discarded, while she was showering. Huh… there was a biker on the front of it, or I guess a female-fantasised version of one. I glanced at the curtain hiding her from me, and looked back at it. I read the back of the book. Interesting . The spine wasn’t creased, so I didn’t think she’d done more than look at a page or two.

By the time she emerged from the shower, I was a few chapters in, and just completely bemused.

“What are you… are you reading that?” She asked, a giggle following her words, as I stared up at her.

“Some of this is actually quite close, but Jesus… people like reading this stuff?”

She shrugged, but I saw the telltale flush in her cheeks.

“Bikers are hot. Everyone knows that.”

I glanced at the shiny muscled guy on the cover, and looked down at myself.

“I’m feeling kind of inadequate right now, babe. Is this what they expect us all to look like?”

She laughed, climbing on the bed and grabbing the book from me, while I hissed at her to save my page.

She stared at the cover, and looked back at me, pretending to scrutinise it carefully.

“Hmmm… I mean, I guess it is a little off.”

I snatched the book back. “ Charming . Thanks.”

She pulled the towel from her hair and rubbed at it.

“All I meant was that he’s too much of a pretty boy. Everyone knows bikers are more rugged and grizzly, and that’s way hotter.”

“I’m grizzly? Like a fucking bear?”

She laughed again, and she’d been doing that more the last day or so. Trust me when I say I noticed every fucking thing about her.

“In a good way, Ryder. It was a compliment.”

I reached up and ran a hand over the stubble on my face that I’d been ignoring for a couple of weeks.

“I guess I’m probably due for a tidy up.”

She swiped the book again, and tossed it on the pillow.

“Don’t you dare. I think it suits you.”

Yeah, she probably wouldn’t say that if she’d actually let me kiss her. I’d be rubbing her face raw. But yeah, kissing was a no. We’d discussed everything sexual over the last few days, and there was nothing she was willing or able to try yet. Nothing .

I knew it had only been a week or so since she was raped, but it was starting to wear on me. Not because I was an asshole who wanted to force her into stuff, but because I’d gone nearly a month, and I was getting fucking antsy.

I hadn’t responded, what with being conflicted about what a horny bastard I was, and now she’d gone quiet. Dammit. I reached out and touched her shoulder, and she flinched.

“For fuck’s sake!” I growled, getting up from the bed. “You know I won’t fucking hurt you.”

She tossed her bath towel in my general direction.

“Go to hell.”

I grabbed the towel and tossed it back in the bathroom, not caring where it landed.

“Have I hurt you at any time?” I demanded, and she stood up, her fists clenched by her sides.

“Just because you haven’t so far, doesn’t mean that you won’t, at some point. All men do. Remember, I learned that shit first hand.”

I wanted to grab her and shake her.

“I’m not fucking like that. How many more times do I have to tell you?”

She glared at me, then slumped on the bed again.

“Jesus, I’m trying, Ryder. I really am. I just don’t feel safe, and I know that’s not your fault, but whether we like it or not, you’re a man, and I’m a woman. Weak. Easy to overpower, and force. Whether you mean to or not.”

“Jesus Christ.” I left the room before I fucking threw things. As I passed the prospect on the door, Nick this time, I pointed at the door.

“She doesn’t fucking leave. You stop her, no matter what it takes.”

“You’re asking me to force a rape victim to stay here, by manhandling her?” He looked horrified, and who could fucking blame him. I was really starting to learn how much of a fucking asshole I could be, especially when it came to her.

“ Whatever it fucking takes ,” I snapped, heading for the one person who could help me.

I thumped my fist against Ice’s door, and he pulled it open with a cranky look on his face.

“Oh crap, what the hell do you want this time? It’s never you stopping by to say ‘oh, hey Ice, how ya doing buddy’. It’s always some kind of meltdown, so what it is this time?”

I shoved past him, and pushed the door closed behind me, steeling myself for what I was about to say. I took a deep breath. Once it was said, there’d be no turning back.

“I need drugs.”

His face fell, and he backed up a step.

“What the actual fuck. No. You don’t do that shit.”

I looked everywhere but him for a moment.

“Not the stuff you take. I need GHB .”

He cursed, and came at me, like he should, like any decent man fucking should.

“You better not be thinking about what I think you are!”

I cleared my throat, knowing he’d get it instantly.

“ And Viagra .”

He froze, his eyes widening at me as he figured it out just as quickly as I’d known he would.