9. Lily
9
LILY
T he aroma of coffee rouses me from my sleep. Arms over my head, I stretch, then wince when my sore ribs twinge and every muscle in my body screams from the abuse I suffered yesterday. Despite the low, throbbing pain, I slept a lot better than I thought I would once I managed to get back to sleep. No doubt, the quality of my slumber is directly related to the strong arms that were wrapped around me all night.
My nightmares lose their power when Zeke is holding me.
“Lilianna, I’ve brought you some coffee.” Charlie’s soft voice has me opening my eyes in a flash. Well, one and a half eyes since my left eye remains partially swollen shut. “And two of the Panadeine Forte that Doc left for you last night. He also gave me some anti-inflammatories... which you definitely need.”
Rolling quickly onto my side and pushing myself into a sitting position, I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my stiff movements from alerting her to the soreness in my body is as well. Charlotte Hannaford mightn’t have become part of my life until I was thirteen, and we both acknowledge that she’ll never replace my mother, however there is a little niche in my heart that belongs to her.
She’s a softy and seeing me in pain will hurt her.
“Careful. Take your time,” she admonishes me in a mothering tone.
I roll my eyes at her, then grimace at the pain that radiates through my bruised face. Charlie grins at my reaction. Not because she’s sadistic—she’s just always telling me not to roll my eyes at everyone. Apparently, reading my mind, she shakes her head at me, then holds out the steaming mug she’s brought into the bedroom.
Gratefully taking the proffered hot coffee and medication out of her hands, I swallow the tablets with a big gulp of much-needed caffeine. A visible shudder of delight runs through me, and Charlie laughs.
Although my lip hurts, I join her. I’m not ashamed to admit my addiction to the rich brown substance. Sure, everyone likes to tease me about my dependency. It’s a running joke in my family that the main reason I’m marrying Zeke is because he’s the only person I’ve been able to train to bring me my morning coffee in bed.
I don’t think they quite understand how well rewarded he is for his service.
I definitely employ an incentive system.
“What’s the time?” I ask once the coffee has kicked my brain into gear. “Where’s Zeke?”
“It’s just past midday. They’re gone on club business .” Charlie makes air quotes around the last two words. “Most of them went with your dad, although we still have babysitters and lockdown continues.”
When she frowns, her annoyance at being left out of the loop and placated by Dad’s go-to excuse is very apparent, I grin at her. While I understand how she feels, this is good news for me. I’m secretly thrilled that most of them are gone. I need some time and space to myself today to work out how I’m going to handle Zeke’s inevitable questions about Alex.
Seeing Charlie tilt her head to the side and scan my face, I pepper her with questions to divert her attention from me. She’s unusually perceptive and sees things that others miss.
Like my attempts to evade facing reality.
“Do you know if they have any leads on where Alex could be? Maybe Cub found something in the stuff Toker found?”
“I haven’t been able to glean much.” She gives me a half shrug. I screw up my face, mirroring the irritation in her expression. “I got the impression it was about Alex, but I don’t think they’ve found him... your father has been in a mood since he crawled out of bed, which I figure would’ve dissipated if they’d had good news.”
In the wake of Charlie’s admission, my anxiety spikes.
I’ve fucked up.
Epically.
My rush to keep Zeke from learning what I did to escape Alex has caused me to make a huge misjudgement. I should’ve seen it coming. Of course, the Shamrocks are going to search for him, and they won’t stop until they find him.
And when they find him…
They say pride comes before the fall.
Whoever they are, the bastards are right.
I’ve handed Alex the perfect weapon to brandish at Zeke. If they come face-to-face before I tell my fiancé the true extent of my latest run-in with my stalker, Alex will be able to burrow underneath Zeke’s skin by embellishing what I did.
My hand has been forced.
I have no choice but to come clean.
The truth is the lesser of two evils right now, and although I’m still worried about Zeke’s reaction and the effect it will have on our relationship, I need to do everything in my power to stop him from falling into the same trap with Alex as I did.
It’s unavoidable.
I couldn’t live with myself, knowing that the man I love is being forced to exist with Alex’s poison in his head because I did nothing to stop it.
“Penny for your thoughts, young lady?” Charlie interrupts my musing, and she takes a seat next to me on the bed.
“Do you think I’m to blame for all this?” I ask quietly.
This is a question that I’ve voiced many times during therapy, however, the stock standard answers provided by my doctors have never sat well with me.
We can’t control how others behave.
Well, duh…
Not sure how that’s supposed to help me come to terms with ending up as the target of someone’s obsession.
The fact is, there must be something about me that turned Alex crazy.
The corners of Charlie’s lips droop and the light in her eyes dies. “Definitely not… the blame rests with Alexander. He’s sick?—”
“I get that, but what I don’t understand is why me ?”
“Why not you? There is no?—”
The anger that flickers across her delicate features as she tries to restate her objections forces me to raise a hand to stop her. “What did I do that made him want to hurt me? And don’t say nothing because he never had any trouble sleeping with women before me then moving on from them without a second thought… he was an absolute man whore, so there must be something about me that made him so crazy. Was it because I said no?—”
“Sometimes when some men discover something precious, something that meets all their desires, they decide that breaking it is the only way to keep it.” She takes hold of my hand and pats my knuckles. “Looking back… there were signs that Alex had a lot of his father in him. He had the same need to control, to push boundaries, to force his will on you. At the time, I ignored my intuition because I didn’t want my history with Joseph to colour my feelings toward his son.”
When I open my mouth to question her about this new revelation, Charlie shushes me with a pointed look. “I should’ve warned you about what the men in that family are capable of—I was born in Inadale. I’ve heard the stories about Alex. If anyone had the ability to see this coming, it was me.”
Lowering my gaze to my lap, twisting my fingers together as I mumble, “I wouldn’t have listened… not with Sander’s career at risk. I-I was blind to his evil—I thought I could handle him.”
Charlie chucks me under the chin with two dainty fingers to make me meet her eyes. I offer her a quick glance, then look away. “You were strong and smart. You ended your relationship with him the second you realised that he’d crossed boundaries. Some men don’t like to lose, and when they do it becomes a sickness, an obsession, it eats at them, until they do exactly what Alex did—they threaten your family and physically hurt you. They try everything they can think of to force you to stay with them. Willingly or not.”
A heart-wrenching sob fills the bedroom. I slant a look at Charlie. She’s crying, tears running down her face, even as she carries on speaking.
I have the feeling our experiences with the Kingsley men aren’t all that dissimilar.
“Now, having survived Alex’s abuse, tell me which part of that was your fault? What did you do that made him hurt you? Nothing! Not. A. Thing. You. Did. Made. Him. Hurt. You.” A whimper of grief bubbles out of me at the vehemence in her voice. “Just like his father, he’s a weak, spiteful man, a monster who won’t take no for an answer, because he believes that he shouldn’t have to.”
Wrapping both of her arms around me, Charlie squeezes me so hard that my ribs protest. Her face is in my hair as she continues, “I couldn’t love you more than I do, even if I’d birthed you. I take my job as your stepmother very seriously… and you know I’d be the first person to tell you if you’d caused this in any way. Please believe me when I tell you that the only person to blame for this is Alexander.”
“I’ll try...”
The betrayal I felt when Charlie chose my father’s side five years ago is tamped down by her openness now. I don’t fully believe her, because I was wrong to use Alex’s initial attraction to me to make Zeke jealous, but it does help to hear her lay things out like she did.
Alex doesn’t like losing.
To Sander.
To me.
“You are strong,” she tells me. “I expect you to do more than try .” With one final squeeze, Charlie puts enough space between us to allow our gazes to lock. In her eyes, I see the same resolve Zeke and Slash, and sometimes Toker and Nadia, have hit me with over the years. “The only thing more I can ask is for you to have faith that we, as a family, as a club, can get through this together… no more trying to fix everything yourself.”
“Fuckin’ oath,” Dad interjects.
Charlie and I both startle, turning to find that he’s watching us from the doorway along with Zeke and Fret. I have no idea how long they’ve been there. Long enough to hear some things I wish they hadn’t if the miserable expression on Zeke’s face is a sign.
“My woman is right,” Dad announces.
He walks over and sits next to Charlie, the mattress sways as he picks her up and plants her firmly in his lap. The shocked squeak she makes is cute but kind of sad at the same time. My father doesn’t often show Charlie the affection she deserves. He also refuses to listen when we point it out. I’m surprised he’s chosen a moment like this to lavish praise on her.
When I lock eyes with my brother, I see the same pondering on his face.
“I want you to come to me if anyone tries to threaten you.”
“Excuse me, but why would I do that? You are the reason?—”
My father shushes my objection with a snarl. “I could’ve protected you and Sander if you’d come to me with the truth about that little Kingsley prick.”
“Bullshit,” Zeke interjects from the doorway at the same time my brother says, “Fuckin’ hell, Dad, ease up.”
As fury ripples through my father and Zeke takes a step into our room with Fret hot on his heels, I motion for them all to stop. “I don’t want to get into this, not today.”
“Lily,” my fiancé cautions in a testy tone. “He doesn’t get to rewrite history. He, ’specially, doesn’t get to lay any fuckin’ blame on your head.”
Rather than respond to Zeke, I eyeball my father. He’s giving my brother and my fiancé hard looks that don’t make sense in the situation. Anger, I would understand. It’s Dad’s default. The naked hatred in his expression seems extreme, particularly when it’s directed at Fret. Seeing this dislike coming on the heels of his attempt to gaslight me makes my stomach churn. Not once in the years since his underhanded attempt to ally us with the Maddison clan was exposed has my dad tried to claim he could’ve stopped me from getting hurt.
He normally prefers to ignore the past entirely.
Right now, it’s clear that my father, a man I barely trust on a good day, is up to something.
Beside me, Charlie moves uncomfortably on Dad’s lap, seemingly as aware as I am that this is about to flare up into a full-blown argument if we don’t take the heat out of the situation.
“Why don’t we organise some lunch,” I offer softly.
“Good idea,” Charlie replies with a tight smile. She twists to catch my dad’s eye. “There’s some leftover barbeque from last night.”
“Go heat it up. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Dad’s terse reply makes me shiver.
He places Charlie on her feet.
She makes a move toward the exit.
Just before she reaches Zeke, Dad brushes his fingertips over the stitches in my eyebrow.
I hiss from the sting.
Charlie’s steps falter.
Zeke takes another step forward.
Fret fists the back of my man’s cut.
The churning in my stomach becomes a whirlpool.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” my father remarks.
“I know.”
Dad nods at my easy agreement. “I’m gonna fix this shit. No one else. Me. ”
“How?” Fret asks before I can. “By makin’ another deal with the Maddison’s behind our back?”
Without bothering to answer my brother, Dad surges back to his feet. He grabs Charlie’s upper arm and tows her out of the room with him. When they reach the doorway, she shakes free of his grip. He scowls at her but keeps walking. His booted feet are loud in the carpeted hallway, then his moody exit is punctuated by the front doors being slammed shut with unnecessary force.
Facing us, Charlie intertwines her fingers and twists them while she offers us an apology. “He’s under stress… worried about…” She trails off to avoid saying Alex’s name. “He’ll calm down.”
The three of us remain silent until she’s out of earshot.
“What the hell was that all about?” Fret questions, shaking his head.
“Maybe Charlie’s right,” I begin. “He’s stressed?—”
“After the way he behaved last night,” my brother cuts me off. “He needs to lock down his shit or someone’s gonna lock him down with a well-deserved cricket bat to the head.”
“What happened last night?”
My question remains unanswered because Zeke uses his body to wordlessly shepherd my brother out of the bedroom. He closes the door, flipping the lock, then turns to peer at me. As the knowledge that my time has run out hits me, my face grows hot, and I look everywhere but at my fiancé.
I really, really, really don’t want to confess what I did, but I know I must if I want to avoid Alex making things worse.
Shrugging his cut from his shoulders, Zeke pulls his shirt over his head and lays both pieces of clothing over the armchair in the corner.
Bare from the waist up, he stalks toward me.
Aggravation flows from his rigid form.
I ignore his mood, and my reticence to speak, to eat him up with my eyes.
After five years together, I can map out every inch of him with precision, yet I never tire of looking at him. Leaning back to take in his entire physique, I can’t help but marvel at how he keeps getting better with age.
Bronze-brown hair, lightly tanned skin, roped with thick muscle. The aristocratic nose that gives him a veneer of untouchability. His almond-shaped gaze swirls with every common eye colour to create a unique edge to his look. Built like the Rugby back rower he once was, Zeke oozes confidence. Violence. Anarchy. Everything about him embodies the three Ts —as Nadia likes to call them—of the younger generation of the Shamrocks.
Tattooed, tortured, and threatening.
Zeke’s managed to make use of the small amount of bare skin he had left when we got together to chronicle our life together. Over his heart are bright-blue lilies with the words metukà shelì, or ‘my sweetheart’ in Hebrew, woven through the shading of the petals . It is his most recent tattoo, added when we got engaged, although it’s not that much fresher than the addition to the sleeve that covers his right arm—my favourite of his body art.
When he reaches the spot where I’m perched on our bed, I run my fingernail over the classic alien skull with its tongue hanging out that denotes his road name before I sketch the outline of the female version he had added after I accepted his “Property of Venom” patch. Venom in a leather cut and She-Venom with a crown of blue lilies. Two unfit for purpose creatures stuck in this unaccepting world. Two aliens trying to find a way to exist on earth by hiding inside socially acceptable skin suits.
Which is apt because we both feel a little inhuman, especially when we’re apart.
I have the same image tattooed between my shoulder blades and it always draws queries whenever I wear a tank top. My explanation about the mark that signifies someone as a biker’s old lady doesn’t mean much to civilians, so I usually cut off their line of questioning by pointing out that Zeke looks like a younger, taller, bulkier version of Tom Hardy with better teeth and a haircut from this millennium.
The massive cherub holding the scales of justice that dominates the right-hand side of his torso, from his collarbones to his belly button, is blended seamlessly with lilies similar to those in his chest piece. Although his lower half is covered with jeans right now, I know that his skin is tattooed from his collar bones to his knees, a living, breathing canvas, with only a small patch on his inner forearms and the skin at the front of his neck bare.
A day after our engagement, he informed me that he’s saving the bare skin he has left for the names of any children we’re lucky enough to be blessed with.
I pray I’ll be able to fulfil that dream for him.
“Oglin’ me won’t get you outta talkin’, sweet thing.”
“That’s a shame,” I quip. Flicking the bar through his left nipple—the result of a drunken bet with Slash—I angle my head to smile at him. “Ogling you is in my top five favourite pastimes.”
His lips quirk into the ghost of a grin that dies in a heartbeat. When he sits on the bed next to me, his extra weight causes me to slide into him. Zeke wraps a heavy arm around my shoulder and says, “I’m askin’ you one last time what really went down between you and that piece of shit last night.”
There it is.
The second request.
Even if it’s more of a statement than a question at this point.
My man’s control snaps before I can find the right words.
“Lily, just fuckin’ tell me, please. The truth can’t be as fucked up as the bullshit circulatin’ in my head already.”
His eyes are wide, pleading with me, and I can see he’s hurt by my reticence to talk to him.
Breathing deep and holding it in my chest, I let my lungs deflate in a rush as I lay out the truth without cushioning the blow. “All right, I’ll tell you. After he had me abducted by Hugh and his team of sociopaths, Alex hit me, kissed me, fingered me... I knew he was going to rape me again, eventually, after he’d killed you and as many Shamrocks as he could, so I promised him my submission, stripped in front of him, then let him touch my tits as a distraction while I locked the handcuffs in place, then I shot him twice before I escaped out of the window .”
I yell the last part of my confession at him.
Literally.
Like an unfeeling bitch, I volley the truth as if it’s a landmine.
Of course, the second the words have left my mouth, I’m appalled with myself. I can’t bear to look at Zeke. Not after the shitty way I delivered the answers he sought. Rationally, I know that I shouldn’t feel guilty about my actions yesterday, yet I do. I can’t help it. The knowledge that I submitted to Alex when I’ve always promised myself that I wouldn’t break for him is crushing me.
A sob bubbles from my swollen lips.
I throw myself face down on the bed.
My guilt is so heavy, I can feel it physically weighing me down.
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” When he pauses, I peek to the side and see that Zeke is running his hands through his hair. The sound of ragged breathing and his foot bouncing fills the room as he fights to compose himself. After a minute, the bed ceases shuddering from his shaking leg, and he places his hand on my shoulder. “ Metukà shelì, you can’t lob somethin’ like that at me, then leave me to fuckin’ work it out on my own… Tell me. Did he force himself on you? God, Lil, it’s obvious that he hurt you.” Dropping to his side, he rubs my upper arm as he whispers from behind me, “I want to know everythin’… from the beginnin’.”
I keep my face buried in our bedspread as I finally tell him everything.
I explain that I was snatched from our front yard after driving home unescorted.
I admit that Hugh tried to assault me before I learnt that Alex was behind my kidnapping.
I detail how he punished me by violating my body with his fingers when I refused to accept his threat against everyone I love.
Swallowing the final vestiges of my dented pride, I elaborate on how I was hidden in the back bedroom with Alex when Zeke knocked on the front door. That it was alarmed and impossible to escape with a madman locked away with me.
I tell him that I thought he was dead.
By the time I get to the part where I regain consciousness and discover that I’m handcuffed to the bed, Zeke’s fury has expanded into a palpable presence that fills the room. Heavy. Oppressive. Teeming with the violent need to avenge my suffering.
It affects me.
My face is hot, yet my body is cold. Every inch of my skin is covered in goosebumps. My fingers curl into fists as I fight the growing urge to run from what I need to say next. I know that I’m at the part Zeke’s going to have the hardest time understanding, so I shrug off his hand and sit up on the bed to face him. It’s the least he deserves.
Zeke mirrors my position, sitting in front of me with his legs crossed. He laces our fingers. I look away from our entwined hands and into his eyes as I carry on with my story.
In a soft voice, I finally admit what I tried to avoid saying last night. “He made me think that Hugh had killed you, and that was it for me. I was done. I didn’t care if I got out alive, not if you were gone. What was the point in trying to survive without you to share my life with?”
“ Metukà shelì , you’re never getting rid of me, ’specially that easy. It’ll take more than a bullet to end me—even death ain’t game enough to get between us. I can promise you that.”
“I’ll take that promise in writing.” I place my hands on either side of his face and peer straight in his eyes as I say, “I can survive a lot. Losing you is not on that list.”
“Ditto, sweet thing, fuckin’ dit-to.”
We smile at each other, then reality encroaches, and my momentary happiness slides off my face. “When I realised that you were still alive, I tried to bargain with Alex for your life. That’s why I submitted. That’s why I undressed for him. Let him touch me. I wanted to do everything I could to keep you alive, to make sure that the Shamrocks, when they came, would be safe, to stop him from taking me to a secondary location. At the time, it made sense…” I trail off, swallowing deep when ice fills my veins at the memory of Alex’s arrogance. “He’s a master manipulator. I fell for his lies, but everything I did was for a good reason.”
“You saved yourself.”
“Did I?” I shrug. “It didn’t feel like that last night when I climbed out that window and found Slash waiting for me. I felt like I’d let you down.”
“Never.” I clear my throat, rolling my tense shoulders before I start the hardest part. Zeke senses my discomfort. He grabs my hands again and runs his thumbs over my knuckles. “You’ve gotta stop worryin’ about my feelings here, Lily.”
After taking a deep breath, I push the words from my mouth as quickly as I can. Every syllable tastes like dirt, my throat is dry as ash. “Offering Alex my submission felt like a betrayal. Willingly showing him my body, letting him touch me, offering myself as a distraction… I guess I’m worried that you’re going to look at me differently. A woman who’s been violated is much easier to love than a woman who bartered her body for freedom.”
Nerves twanging, I wait for his reaction to my confession.
He bursts into laughter.
Deep, belly-rumbling laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I mumble in a small voice.
Have I finally pushed him over the edge?
Tears run down his face when he continues laughing.
I snatch my hands out of his, appalled that he would think this is funny.
How can he find amusement in this?
I thought he would be furious at me, disgusted with me.
I don’t understand his reaction.
“I’m fuckin’ sorry. I know it’s not funny.”
He tries to contain himself, wiping his face with his hands, unable to meet my eyes. Eventually, Zeke composes himself enough to look at me. I’m upset and confused by his reaction, but also glad that he hasn’t called me a slut and stormed off.
“So, why are you laughing?” I ask softly.
“It’s just, it’s just… I always knew you had us all by the balls. It was fuckin’ funny to hear you prove it.”
At his comment, I find myself smiling a little. “You don’t think I’m a slut? That I cheated? You’re not mad?”
“No. Fuckin’. Way,” he replies with absolute certainty, his laughter dying as he studies me. “Not at you anyway… I’m angry as fuck that you had to resort to somethin’ like that to get away from the cunt. I hate the idea of him touching you in any way that you didn’t want. I’m pissed off that he managed to get his hands on you when we have a whole fucking MC protectin’ you. And I’m ready to bloody well kill whoever helped him slip out of our hands at the house… but I’m fuckin’ proud of you. You didn’t barter your body for your freedom, you used your wits to beat him at his own game.” I’m taken aback at his response, and since I can’t believe that he is as cool with this as he’s acting, I flinch when his voice hardens. “You didn’t tell me how the dickhead really ended up shot, though.”
In that instant, Zeke is back to business.
Despite his serious expression, I laugh at the memory of being able to inflict pain on Alex again. “He was trying to play mind games with me after I handcuffed him—told me that you suffer from the knowledge that you’ll eventually lose me to Slash because he’s a better match for me.” The anger that darkens Zeke’s expression makes me swallow hard, then I forge on. “He tried to convince me that you wouldn’t want his sloppy seconds yet again.” Zeke quirks an eyebrow at me when I say that. He knows he was my first lover. “Turns out he believed he’d taken my virginity. He didn’t appreciate it when I set him straight.”
“Good. Fuck him. I’m over the moon that you allowed me the honour.”
I nod vigorously in agreement as I add. “Someone knocked on the window and I needed to distract him.”
“Toker,” he reminds me of the only man we know with the audacity to make a move like that. “No idea why he thought it’d work, but apparently he was knockin’ on every window he passed on his way to his sniper’s perch.”
The mention of my crazy cousin makes me smile. “I disguised the sound of the knocking by shooting him and mouthing off about you and Slash torturing him, then the power went off and the blind went up. Figuring that the coast was clear, I climbed out of the window. I was picking my way over the gravel path on my bare feet when Slash yelled out to me.”
I awkwardly flop backward on the bed, emotionally drained, but happy to have the whole thing out in the open. “That’s everything that happened, I promise.”
Unfurling himself like an agitated lion, Zeke stretches his frame over mine, careful not to put too much weight on me. He kisses me, avoiding my stitches, mindful of my bruises, then pauses to gauge my reaction to his proximity. When I tilt my head to one side and look up at him, he softly kisses me again. I wait for his next move. He simply stares down at me with reverence in his eyes.
I decide it’s time that I take the lead.
With a hand on either side of his face, I pull his mouth to mine.
This time, our kiss is hard and deep.
My lip splits.
The sting sends a shiver through me.
I taste blood.
Zeke.
Love.
Pulling back after a few minutes, he looks at me. “How are you handlin’ what you did? I know it can’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t. I wanted to throw up the entire time... still do. Like I said, at the time I thought it was justified, but afterward, I started to worry that you’d hate me for it.”
Zeke sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to remove the blood that stained his skin during our kiss. My tongue darts out to catch a droplet that wells at the edge of my cupid’s bow, and he bends forward to clear my skin of the remaining metallic elixir.
“You thought I’d hate you?”
After I nod, we examine each other in silence, eyes darting, truth seeking.
“Don’t think I could ever hate you, ’specially not for somethin’ like savin’ yourself,” my man offers in a tone that tells me he resents my lack of faith in him. “You thought I was shot, Lil, and all you had for comfort was the vague idea that the Shamrocks would come for you eventually.”
“I don’t know if I could do it again.” I press my lips to Zeke’s, needing to feel him before my final confession. “Every time I close my eyes, I can see him. His voice lives in my head, unfailingly critical as always. I can feel his hands on me. His fingers in me. His cologne surrounds me. My body feels like I’m covered with his filth again. I’m poisoned. Toxic .”
As I admit how much yesterday shook me up, my skin flares with the crawling sensation again. I curl my right hand into a fist, the desire to grab a razor ratcheting up to a new level. Cutting is my main coping mechanism—for better or worse—and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully escape the urge.
Adrenaline pumping, the need to drain my blood fills me. As desperation floods my veins, I push Zeke away, determined to hide somewhere until I get my emotions under control.
Preferably in a hot shower.
A six-foot deep hole.
Somewhere.
Anywhere.
As long as it’s away from Zeke.
I don’t want to—I can’t—drag him down with me…
Attentive as ever, Zeke steps away from me, but rather than let me move past him, he drags me to a sitting position at the end of the bed.
Frowning, I ask. “What are you doing? Just let me go?—”
“Is your face still sore? How are your ribs?” Zeke ignores me, instead posing his own questions in a firm voice. “What about your knee?”
“I’m fine,” I snap. Drawing my eyebrows together in apology, I explain, “The painkillers Charlie gave me have kicked in… but it’s not the pain I can’t take… it’s what’s in my head.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m gonna give you somethin’ new to fixate on. Lay back, sweet thing, spread those legs for me.” I shake my head, my fear a tsunami, inundating me, drowning me. Allowing Zeke to touch me sexually feels impossible so soon after Alex resurrected my slumbering demons. “You said you can feel him. You can hear him. You can smell him.”
As he paraphrases my words, I nod.
“Well, let me get rid of him. We’ve been through this before… let me erase his touch from you, stop it messin’ with your head any harder. Metukà shelì, this is probably selfish as fuck, but I can’t watch you disappear back inside yourself again. I can’t handle you flinchin’ away from me every time I touch you, not like you did five years ago.”
Zeke’s reminder of how I was in the early aftermath of Alex’s abuse breaks my heart. I tried hard to keep everything inside of me and pretend I was fine, but once I was out of hospital and my body was healing, my mind had nothing to distract it anymore. I retreated inside myself, unable to connect properly with anyone because I felt dirty, undeserving, and damaged beyond repair.
I flinched in fear whenever anyone came near me.
Feeling worthless, I didn’t want to exist.
Alex’s voice was a poison that infiltrated my head and infected my every thought.
The Shamrocks moved on once my rapist was jailed. A new rhythm came over the club. Most of the safety restrictions were ended. My father’s promised truce with the Maddison’s seemed legitimate. Everyone got on with their lives, vague references to the ordeal dulled to a whisper whenever my presence reminded them of it, until that stopped as well.
For the club, Alex’s sentence was a conclusion.
For me, it was the beginning of a new battle.
I started cutting, determined to physically drain Alex’s poison from my body.
Zeke noticed my retreat inside myself. He saw the difference in me, despite my attempts to hide it. He was patient, he was kind, he was tough when I needed him to push me. Despite his reputation as a hard man, he’s the one who arranged therapy for me.
It still took more than a year, multiple sessions with my team of doctors, a soul-searching trip away with Zeke on our Harleys, three bloodstained backslides in my attempt to stop slicing my skin with razors, mixed martial arts training with Slash, shooting lessons with Toker, meditation with Fret, girls nights with Nadia and the small group of old ladies I trusted, a bunch of deep and meaningfuls with Sander, among too many other things to list, before I was able to resume my normal life.
Pursuing a physical relationship with Zeke took even longer.
And that’s why I can’t go back there either...
I refuse to lose everything good in my life to Alex a second time.
Once my mind embraces my stubborn rejection to succumb to its dark thoughts, I lean back. My shoulders rest on the mattress. My legs hang off the end. I concentrate on the pitted white ceiling above me.
When Zeke nudges his knee between mine, I part my thighs.
Calloused hands slide along the inside of my legs, from my knees to the soft crease where my thighs end. My hips lift of their own volition when Zeke curls his hands around the waistband of the boxer shorts that I’m wearing and gathers the material in each palm. There is infinite gentleness in his touch as he tugs them down my legs. I’m bare beneath, my lower body exposed as my love strips the material from one ankle and then the next. I hear the muted thud as he drops to his knees on the carpet. His shoulders force my thighs all the way apart. A shudder runs the length of my spine, carving an indelible trail through me with the same slow precision my man uses to draw his fingertips along my legs. He plants a kiss on every emerging bruise, drags his teeth over the undamaged skin, licks my grazes and cuts.
Acknowledging my pain, then soothing it.
“This pussy,” Zeke murmurs when he reaches the apex of my thighs. “This pretty, pink pussy… it’s all mine.” His nose is warm as he drags it along my slit and inhales. “Smells like home.” He flattens his tongue and traces a path from my clit to the opening. Spearing me once, twice, three times, he licks me deep. “Tastes like forever.”
A juddering surge of pleasure ripples through me.
Goosebumps break out all over my skin.
“Every part of you, sweet thing, belongs to me. Say it, metukà shelì , admit that you’re mine.”
“Yours.”
My hips buck when he sucks my clit hard.
Over and over.
My vision blurs as my climax starts to build.
“Nothin’ will get between us, right, sweet thing?”
“Nothing.”
“We’re destiny. Fate. Sin and submission… no one can destroy us.”
“No one.”
Like a finely tuned machine, Zeke works me over. He knows exactly where to touch. How hard. How soft. How fast. How slow. Every move he makes is destined to maximise my pleasure.
“Love like ours can’t be broken, hey, metukà shelì?”
“Unbreakable.”
“My fuckin’ perfect Cherub. Gonna make you come so hard.”
In direct contradiction to his promise, Zeke licks and nibbles on the delicate skin around my lower lips, my inner thighs, my cleanly-waxed mound, everywhere except the one place where I want his mouth. Driven to the edge of my patience with wild need, I screw my eyes shut and fist the covers at the sides of my hips.
He continues to tease . Warm breath blows over my clit. I shiver. An almost imperceptible brush of his lips over the sensitive nub makes me moan. His fingertip circles my soaked entrance, barely breaching my body, and Alex’s leering face fills my mind’s eye.
I stiffen, then my man nips at my clit with his sharp teeth.
“Eyes open.” I raise my eyelids and peer down my body at him. The desire in Zeke’s multi-coloured eyes is matched by the heady, hungry growl in his voice. “Watch me, Lily. Watch me worship you. Watch me drown in you. See how much it pleases me to please you.”
A moan leaves me when he pushes his tongue inside me.
I drop a hand on the top of his head.
Gazes locked together, I watch like demanded while he devours me. He folds his hands over my lower belly, holds my hips in place, forces me to endure every slow lick, every spear of his tongue, every tender kiss, every deliberate suck of my clit. I want to cry for mercy, lap up each touch, soak in his pleasure, bask in his hunger, splinter beneath his ministrations.
Mindlessly, I wind my fingers through the longer hair at his crown as my need crests.
“Oh, God. God. God. Zeke.” I tug his silky locks hard, almost pulling his mouth from my overstimulated flesh, before pushing his head back down to keep him where I need him. “Yes. There. God. Zeke. Zeke.”
My man uses his tongue to draw finger eights on my clit.
Ecstasy builds in my stomach, then turns to heat at the base of my spine.
Two fingers press into me.
Stretch me.
Thrust in and out of me.
Remind me of the violation I recently suffered.
“No. No. ” My mind refuses to accept that it’s Zeke’s fingers and not Alex’s inside me. Moving my head from side to side, I try to reject his touch. “No.”
“Call carnage, sweet thing, otherwise I’m gonna finger fuck you until you come.”
“I—I…” Trailing off, I swipe at the tear that’s rolled down my cheek.
“I know, sweet thing,” Zeke tells me as he gazes up at me from between my thighs. “But this is you and me… we’re unbreakable, aren’t we?”
He pumps his fingers.
My body softens as he brushes my g-spot.
Still, my mind rebels, determined to save me from another defilement.
“Say it… we’re unbreakable.”
Trembling, I toe the line between fear and frenzy. My heartbeat races, even as Zeke works my body into languid acceptance. The voice in my head—Alex’s damning reminders that I’m filled with his poison—tries to drown out the deafening whoosh of my pulse. Bliss beckons, my desire reaches a fever pitch. Every atom of my being, each nerve end and synapse, fires with one objective.
Oblivion.
“Say it, sweet thing… we’re unbreakable.”
“We’re… we… are…” I wrap my fingers around his wrist. My fingernails, jagged and broken from yesterday’s ordeal, dig into his skin as the ecstasy that’s promising to flood me builds to a crescendo. “We. Are. Unbreakable.”
“That’s right, metukà shelì . Un- fuckin ’-breakable.”
Zeke curls his fingers skyward. He strokes that spot inside me that only he’s ever touched. My hips buck. My spine curves. Every muscle is engulfed by the delicious indescribable waves of desire that herald my orgasm. Mindless pleasure. Overwhelming bliss. The perfect balance of lust and love. It sweeps through me. Coats me. Fills me. Shields me. Lifts me.
Does it fix me?
No.
But it sure as hell makes me feel better.
When I come down from cloud climax , I find Zeke standing in front of me. His eyes are filled with pride. His grin is a mixture of satisfaction and worry. I shuffle upright, my jelly legs uncooperative at first, and scoot backward until my back is leaning against the headboard.
“I didn’t push too hard?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No… you pushed exactly the right amount.”
“Good.” When he comes to stand next to me, the bulge in his jeans at face height, I reach over to free his cock from its denim cage.
Zeke catches my wrist. “You don’t have to do that.”
“What if I want to?”
“Are you horny?” My man asks with a smile in his voice when I squirm subtly to alleviate my growing need.
“No.”
Standing before me, naked from the waist up, he laughs at my denial.
I beckon him to sit with a crook of my finger.
As usual, he goes one better.
“My sexy little liar.” Zeke shucks his denim and boxer briefs, then crawls onto the mattress with me. His hard cock presses against my stomach when he rolls me onto my back and cages me with his wide torso. “That t-shirt’s gotta go.”
Smiling up at him, I wriggle beneath him, holding my arms up so he can pull the loose Shamrocks T-shirt that I’m wearing over my head. My breasts tumble free, and I hear Zeke’s breath catch. With the best sexy half grin that I can manage with my damaged face, I lift my gaze to his, only to fall still as I find that he’s not appreciating my body.
Zeke is vibrating with barely controlled rage.
“Wow.” I exclaim as I follow his gaze to my torso. “It wasn’t this bad yesterday.”
The bruising over my ribs and across my stomach has set in overnight. There’s an outline of a hand over my left breast that’s almost purple, but it’s the fingerprints that colour my shoulders and the base of my throat that’s really captured Zeke’s attention.
“You said you weren’t hurtin’,” he scolds. Before I can answer, Zeke shuffles down the bed. Once on his feet, he stoops to pull his clothing back on, tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs before he buttons his jeans. “We don’t have to fuck, metukà shelì .”
My heart drops to the bottom of my stomach.
This is what I was afraid of happening once he knew the truth about me and Alex.
“Yeah, okay.” I swallow hard, trying to hold back my tears as I dismiss him. “I’ll see you later then.”
Rolling under the bedspread, I pull the blankets over my head. Concealing myself. Hiding from the truth. My heart flip flops, expanding with the agonising recognition of my new reality, painfully shrinking the space in my chest. My stomach churns. I want to disappear. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to go back twenty-four hours and wait for Zeke at the office instead of believing the text telling me to head home alone.
Although my eyes burn, I ignore it.
I refuse to allow Alex another tear.
For a moment, I’m strong, then the sound of Zeke doing up his belt buckle makes the unwanted tears spill down my cheeks.
He’s disgusted by me.
He’s going to leave.
Alex has won.