Chapter 29
Slade
“Don’t call me, baby.”
It’s the only words I can force out from my suddenly parched throat.
My head really is fucked. I’ve just come back from a full mental spiral, and now—sitting in Bane’s bed, surrounded by his scent, watching him look so goddamn rugged and gorgeous—it’s messing with my head and body.
But then I remember I’m in his bed and he’s a biker and those assholes sleep their way through every pussy they can.
I toss back the blankets and hiss, “Why did you bring me to your filthy bed?”
He sits back, shocked by the sudden and unmistakable jealousy in my voice. “What?”
“How many of the Club Pussy have you fucked in this bed? All of them? Beatrice?”
God, I fucking hate her.
I’m spiraling again, but this time it’s with jealousy.
Bane grips the sides of my face in his big, calloused hands, making me look at him. “None.”
“Bullshit,” I spit. “I can feel the cum soaking into my clothes.”
I can’t, but you know, I’m spiraling right now.
With irrational jealousy.
I hate the thought of him with any other woman, especially in the bed that I’m lying in. But I still want him to push me down and settle that big, heavy body on mine and shove that big bulge in his jeans straight into me.
My head is spinning out of control, and I feel dizzy.
His rumble of laughter snaps my attention to him. His hands tighten on my face. “Two things you need to know. One, I have never brought any woman to my bed, and two, I haven’t been with any woman since you arrived. The only cum on my sheets is because of you.”
Instantly, I’m completely grounded, no longer dizzy and spiraling out of control. But his look tells me he didn’t mean to say that last thing.
He looks down. At my hands. At my wedding ring and pulls away.
“It’s fake,” I blurt, then slap my hand over my mouth.
Bane’s head snaps up to look at me. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Needing to get away from him, I scramble to get out of bed on the far side.
At the same time, he leans over to reach for me, but his hand misses my arm. I stand with my legs shaking like I’m Bambi on ice.
“Slade.” He stands, and his face is dark. “What do you mean, it’s fake?”
I need to lock my knees to stop from shaking to the floor. I feel a cool sheen of sweat break over my skin. Then I’m falling.
But Bane, with his quick agility, launches over the bed and catches me before I hit the floor. After scooping me up, he lays me gently back on the bed, soothing back my hair. “You’re cold and clammy. I’m getting Trinity again.”
I grip his wrist. “Candy.”
He frowns before understanding and reaches for the bedside table and pulls out my favorite candies—Rolo chocolates and Swedish Fish.
But he pulls them away when I reach for them. Instead of letting me have the packages and gorge myself, he takes out one of each and hands it to me.
“You keep a stash in here?” I shove the candies and chocolate both into my mouth.
“I knew if I put them in the pantry, you’d steal them all.”
“I wouldn’t.” But it’s a lie. “And the pantry is fair game; anyone could help themselves to them.”
“Exactly. These are your favorites.” He rummages around in the drawer again, and my chest has that weird clenching-slash-ripping open feeling again. He pulls out a bag of beef jerky. “You can’t have all sugar, though; your blood glucose will spike too much and too fast.”
I take the bag from him, grabbing a piece of jerky and alternate between it and the chocolates and candy as we study each other. We’ve both revealed something that neither of us intended.
His eyes track to the simple gold band on my finger. “I’m going to need some explanation.”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I try to figure out how to handle this. “The ring is a prop.”
“Why?” His voice is deep and husky.
My repressed demons stir. I keep my eyes on Bane, trying to do the complicated task of keeping the screams and memories at bay and controlled while I feel some emotion and try to speak words that I haven’t been able to.
“To protect me.” I inhale deeply, trying to remain calm, then exhale. “It’s a last-ditch effort to protect me.”
Everything is waking up within me, but for the first time, I feel stronger, like I might be able to get some of this out without being mentally destroyed.
Or maybe not.
Because as I try to speak, it’s like the demons have their claws in my lungs and I’m forced to take shallow, stuttering breaths. “My friends…they have fathers in powerful positions… One, in particular, who could……”
It shouldn’t be this hard to say this part. But with this explanation comes questions and everything else, and my demons don’t want me to share my burden. They want me to suffer, tormented and alone.
“Just breathe, baby.” Bane cups my head. “Stay with me and feel. You’re doing so well. You’re so fucking strong.”
“No, I’m broken.” My choked voice breaks.
“Only cracked.” His thumb grazes under my eye, collecting the tears that have beaded on my lashes.
“There’s beauty in imperfections, Slade.
Just like Kintsugi—the Japanese form of art that repairs broken pottery with lacquer and powdered gold, silver, and platinum to highlight the history and beauty of being transformed. ”
A laugh of disbelief escapes me. “How does an outlaw biker know about such things?”
His thumb runs along my jaw, and he looks at my lips. Then, he lifts his gaze back to mine. “What’s chasing you that you’d need your friend’s father to protect you if it caught up with you? And why wouldn’t you just let them protect you to begin with?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.”
There it is.
The revelation of how I truly feel slips out without my permission. And with it, there’s a roar in my head, reminding me of all the pain and hell that the Numbers endured while I watched. While Antwane tried to destroy me mentally.
“He made me watch…” The Numbers’ screams are now filling my head, and the memories of their deaths blur my vision. “While he tortured…killed…”
I can’t get any more details out because everything bursts free again from the steel box and assaults me.
But this time, I’m kept tethered by Bane’s touch and his voice calling me back to him.
Rather than my body and mind being separated and being trapped, feeling like I’m sinking into oblivion, I stay in the tumultuous present.
When I finally regain control, I’m on Bane’s lap, clutching him, his touch and scent grounding me. “It’s my penance for living while they died,” I whisper hoarsely.
Even though I don’t explicitly state what ‘it’ is that was my penance, Bane doesn’t push me to explain and tightens his arms around me. Then his hands rub all over me—my hair, my arms, my back.
I know, I know, when he feels my scars—my penance, my punishment for living while the Numbers died—and that he now understands.
When I lift my head, shaking, his hazel eyes are filled with rage.
“Who?” His voice is lethal and vicious. “Who did this to you, Slade?”
The name I’ve never been able to speak out loud finally crosses my lips, but it takes every ounce of strength to control from spiraling straight into hell. “Antwane…Vanderall.”
Then, for the first time since that demon captured me, I break down into sobs.