Chapter 27
Walking back into the shop, I feel my fingers itch. My countess is still pissed, not that I can blame her. I was the one who rejected her. More than once. I was the one who rode away in the dark that night and went home to my lonely cabin in a rage instead of taking up her offer.
Everything in me rebels against her being here, but at the same time, I love it.
She’s next door to me. I can keep track of her even easier, but that means I’m even closer to her, to her pussy, to that soft skin and those desire-filled eyes.
The beast inside me licks his lips. Her proximity will make it a challenge, but it gives me even more chances to indulge in my obsession. My cock hardens at the possibilities.
Heading to our ancient coffee maker, I’m thankful that someone has started the brew, and I pour a cup. I sip, and burn my tongue. “Fuck,” I utter, slamming down the ceramic cup. Dark coffee covers the counter, and I grab some paper towels to absorb the mess.
I need to get some drawing in, create a few sketches, and then I can control my impulses. Minutes later, I’m furiously sketching. The sound of my office door opening has me looking up to see Riggs standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. I can see the bastard is itching to say something.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why the fuck are you standing watching me? Don’t you have scouting to do?”
“Yeah, but I also came by to piss you off before I head out.”
It’s working.
“She’s twenty four.”
“I know how fucking old she is, Riggs. It was in the information you sent me, remember?”
“That I did. She’s young, beautiful, and more importantly, legal.”
I press harder with my pen, ignoring the rage bubbling at his mentioning that Camryn is beautiful. I want to take the pen and stab them in his eyes; her beauty is not for him to notice, friend or not.
“And sexy as hell with those long legs and all that hair.”
Despite my best efforts, the fury comes out, and I stand up and step closer to him. “Stay away from her, she’s off limits. Jace has helped us too much for us to fuck up his little sister’s life.”
Riggs tilts his head to the side, unbothered by my rage. “Hmmm. So you stalking her isn’t a problem?”
“It’s not hurting her and she doesn’t know,” I bark, hating the mirror he’s holding up to my face.
“And her friend is more my speed, but I’ll leave you alone. Denial only has room for one canoe.”
With that, he winks and walks out the front door. The sound of his bike revving starts, and then he rides out, leaving me with my conflicted thoughts.
“You want me this time?” The sultry voice should have my cock hard as a rock, but it stays stubbornly still, not one twitch.
Fuck I need the edge taken off. My rage is still pumping even after the long drive to the Barrens.
I walked past the guards, daring them to speak to me.
I needed to do something, and killing would fight the bill right now, but I don’t have that option.
Getting rid of the scum that Hadrian has let into the walls of the club will come soon enough.
For now, I let my rage simmer, let the anger at Camryn fill my body, my cock.
I stare at Denise, pulling her forward by the neck.
She doesn’t shiver or tremble. Not the way she did when I touched her for the first time.
Denise is practiced. She knows the deal with me, but I don’t care.
I need the release. I can’t direct my desires on Camryn.
Denise will have to be the one I play with tonight.
I follow her to the back of the club to her room.
She unlocks the door and immediately strips, kneeling beside her bed, waiting.
I walk to her and sit, staring at her naked body.
She’s a beautiful woman, her skin covered in tattoos; some of the designs are mine.
Some are clearly new. They cover her body, but all I can see in my mind is Camryn’s virgin skin.
Instantaneously, my cock pulses, but I ignore it and push Camryn to the back of my mind. I open my legs.
“Come here.”
Denise inches closer, and I stare at her breasts.
They are big, tear-drop shaped. They already bear the mark of the last time I cut her.
It was a year ago. Twin marks are right below each nipple.
The image of another set of nipples creeps into my mind, ones I’ve only just glimpsed, their pouty impressions beneath the white triangle of her bikini top.
I wonder what color they are and how they would look covered in her blood.
“Are you going to cut me?”
Denise’s words bring me out of the memory of yesterday when I saw the shadow of Camryn’s nipples under her T-shirt.
I look down at Denise, her heavy makeup expertly done, and mentally try to focus.
The last time we fucked, our blood play was simple, uncomplicated.
I want to tell her yes, because it’s what I’ve done to her before.
But the words are caught in my throat because I don’t want anyone else’s blood covering the steel blade of my knife but hers.
“No. I’m not cutting you tonight.” I grip Denise’s hair, hating that the woman kneeling before me, ready and willing to fuck me, play my blood games, isn’t Camryn Park.
Pulling her closer, I mutter. “Open my pants.”
She does as I ask, and she touches my hard cock.
A cock that she has no idea is not hard for her, but is filled with blood for the woman I’m pretending she is.
She jerks me once, and staring into her face, I try to drum up the desire to let her continue, to push her on her back, sheath my cock in latex, and fuck her into the mattress, exorcise the woman who’s haunting me, but I can’t.
My stubborn mind refuses to let me stop thinking about paler skin, darker hair, and smaller breasts.
I grind my molars, watching dispassionately as Denise’s hand glides up and down my shaft.
Her fingers run over my piercings, and I feel nothing.
Her fingers are too large, and her long purple nails are wrong.
They are not short and oval, painted in a pale pink.
Her scent is wrong. The smell of her arousal is starting to make me nauseous.
I swallow. She leans forward, and the thought of her saliva on my dick makes me want to gag.
I don’t want her hands on me. Just as she starts to open her mouth, I put my hands over hers, removing her fingers. “Stop.”
She lifts her head and looks at me in confusion. “What? What is it?”
I stand, stepping to the side, and tuck my soft cock back in my pants. Sighing, I scrub my hands over my face.
“Is it someone else?”
Her question makes me blink, and I look down at her. For the first time, I see something she’s never shown me before. Vulnerability. She looks sad, but I won’t lie to her.
“Yes.”
She stands and starts to redress, calmly pulling on her discarded clothing.
I watch her, not wanting to deal with her emotions.
We haven’t made promises to each other, but for a time, she was the only one I fucked, and she knew it.
I’m not being disloyal, but looking at her face, she probably takes it as such.
“Is she a sweetbutt?” Denise is now dressed and sits on her bed, shoulders slumped.
“No. She’s not part of the club.”
“Wow. I didn’t think you’d ever go for anyone outside the club.” She crosses her arms and stares at me in disbelief.
Her disbelief mirrors my own. I want a woman whom I can’t have. A woman who is in danger every moment I spend with her. Every possible interaction between us could make her a target.
“What’s her name?”
Before I utter her name, a shot rings out, and I pull Denise down, yanking out my Glock, quickly flicking off the safety. “Stay down.”
Sounds of running feet and yelling reach me. I crouch and head to the door. “Lock the door when I leave.”
Used to the sounds of violence, Denise doesn’t react with fear, calmly nodding, crawling behind me.
Once I reach the door, I ease it open and slip outside.
The door closes softly behind me, and the quick snap of the lock echoes behind me.
Staying close to the wall at a low crouch, I follow the shouts and sounds of scuffling.
I turn the corner and spot Hadrian, holding one of the recruits around the neck with a gun pointed at his head. He’s bleeding profusely from his thigh. His face is pale.
“Let him go, Hadrian.”
I spot Riggs inching closer, his hands empty of a weapon.
“Shut the fuck up. He’s a thief.”
“What did he do?”
Hadrian is high. I can smell the chaos on him from my hiding spot. White powder covers his nose and upper lip. I don’t know the man with fear in his eyes, but he’s too young.
“He stole my fucking drugs!”
I see the rage and disgust in Riggs’s eyes as he inches closer to his brother. In that moment, I see the resemblance. The hard jaw. The forehead.
Riggs pauses. “Hadrian, let him go.” The calmness in tone belies the tension I can detect in his shoulders. He talks to his brother like one would a child, trying to soothe an explosive temper.
“Stop questioning me, Reg! This is my fucking club. He gave it to me, not you!”
The statement must burn Riggs to his core. He’s still confused as to why his father, the man he trusted more than anyone, would leave his club to this maniac. But his father was murdered by the Mestizos before Riggs could ask him.
The recruit’s voice interrupts the tense exchange between brothers. “I didn’t steal it! You told me I could use some! You—”
The shot rings out, and the young man’s body drops, his solid weight hitting the floor with a thud.
Hadrian rubs his nose, removing the white residue of cocaine on his nostrils.
He sucks in a breath and stretches. When he refocuses, he kicks at the dead body and laughs before sitting back down and pouring more vodka into his glass.
“Cade! Get the fuck in here and remove this piece of shit!”
Cade moves like a shadow emerging from the dark recesses of the club. His eyes meet mine, and I communicate what I can. That Hadrian is unhinged, and that he may have to be on high alert.
He motions to another member, and together they drag the dead body to the back, where they will bury him. Another fucking life wasted.