9. Zane
9
ZANE
I arrived out front early, waited twenty minutes, until the time we’re supposed to meet arrives and passes. It’s now ten minutes beyond that. Where the fuck is she?
I stare out at the land surrounding the college, toward the boundary and beyond, as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. For a while, I zone out, thinking about all the ways this could go very wrong. The sounds of students in the halls of the building behind me, and the birds in the trees in front of me, soothe me, and I could almost fall asleep. Almost. But my adrenaline is too high for that.
Glancing down at my phone, I notice the time. She’s categorically late now, so I press my contacts, about to ring Vani.
“You ready?”
I turn at Vani’s sweet voice and nod in relief. We need to get going, and I’m about to ask what held her up, when I get totally sidetracked by how she appears. She’s dressed in her biker leathers and looks hot as fuck.
The crunch of feet on gravel signals Saint’s arrival. He’s right behind her and looks flushed.
“You guys ready to leave?” he asks.
Vani steps from foot to foot and adjusts the back of her leathers as if they’re bothering her. Saint huffs out a soft laugh. What the hell?
A strange look passes between them, but then Vani focuses on me, distracting me from their odd moment. “We need to get going. Sorry I was late. I got stressed about it all in my room and needed a moment.”
I nod in understanding and turn to the parking lot with a jerk of my head.
I hold up my car keys, but Vani shakes her head.
“We have to take my bike.”
Why? I sign to her.
“Because my dad’s MC won’t take us seriously if we turn up in a fucking car, no matter how nice that car might be.”
“Is the bike even in a good enough state to ride?” Saint asks. “It’s a long journey.”
She shrugs. “It’s a little battered, but it still runs perfectly.”
I eye up the machine. I’ve been on a bike a few times in my life, but I’m not a brilliant rider.
“What’s the weather forecast?” Saint asks. His brow is furrowed. He glances up at the sky. “Is your bike safe if it rains?”
Vani goes to Saint, stands on tiptoes, and throws her arms around him. “I’ll be safe,” she says. “ We’ll be safe.”
He hesitates for a moment, and then he seems to fold into her, as though he’s finally letting go of everything. All his defenses. All his pretenses. All his barriers. He buries his face into the side of her neck, and his arms wrap around her. I know he’ll be breathing her in, imprinting her to memory for when he misses her the most. I’m a little envious of their closeness for a moment, but then I remember I get her to myself for however long this takes.
I’m owed as much, because Saint, the fucker, has been sneaking into her damn room alone, when she’s sleeping. I’ve still not unpacked how I feel about it, but now isn’t the time to bring it up. Right now, we need to focus on getting Lex back, but I can’t help but look forward to this bit of time with her to myself.
Well, not quite to myself. I’ll also have her father and the rest of his motorcycle club to deal with.
I’m trying not to think about that for the moment.
Vani peels herself away from Saint, gives him a lingering kiss goodbye, then goes to her bike. She swings her leg over the seat and takes hold of the handlebars. Then she jerks her head in my direction.
“You ready to ride, big guy?”
She releases one of the handlebars to pat the leather seat behind her.
Fucking hell.
I’m going to be the passenger.
Saint snorts laughter then presses his lips together, and Vani raises her eyebrows expectantly.
I could refuse, but I’m not going to. This is Vani’s bike, and we’re going to Vani’s club. As much as I’m used to being the one in charge, right now it’s time to relinquish that control.
I climb on the back and wrap my arms around Vani’s waist. I sense Saint watching.
He smirks. “Looking good, Zane.”
Yeah, it’s kind of emasculating sitting on the back of the huge Harley with Vani in the driver’s seat, but then I realize how close I can get to her like this. My thighs are around her hips, and it puts me in the perfect position to jam my cock against her bountiful ass. I run my hands down her sides, tracing her curves, and then edge even closer.
Vani glances over her shoulder. “Down, boy.”
I smirk back at Saint, and my position dawns on him. His smirk turns into a scowl, and I flip him the bird. I shouldn’t be crowing at him, considering his brother is in the clutches of Jarl Olsen and we’re about to abandon him at the college, but I’m not that mature.
The huge bike roars to life, and she hands me one of the helmets that had been hanging from the handlebar. She wedges her own on over her dark curls.
I place my chin on Vani’s shoulder, inhaling her scent. She skillfully maneuvers the bike in a circle and out toward the college perimeter. The bike’s engine growls comfortingly beneath us.
I think I could get used to this.
We reach the security guards, and Vani slows the bike. “Just going for a ride,” she says.
“Be careful, miss.” It’s the same guard who was on when she came off her bike and got injured.
“I promise,” she replies.
Her wave at the guard is casual and friendly.
He gives her a small salute, and she guns the engine and turns smoothly out of the drive.
She takes it easy on the long, winding road, perhaps remembering her accident. I never asked her if she’d been scared riding since she wrecked. She doesn’t seem like it, but it wouldn’t be unusual for her to have some fear now. I realize there are so many things we haven’t talked about.
The whole thing between us four has been toxic and wild, and when we’re all together, Saint and Lex do all the talking. It’s harder for me because writing out messages takes a lot longer, and you lose the immediacy of a conversation.
It also makes me feel self-conscious—this fight to make myself understood. If I stay silent and make no effort with anyone, then I can’t be signaled out as being different. Sure, people will say I’m unfriendly and sullen, but I don’t give a fuck about that.
When I first lost my voice, I didn’t attempt to communicate with anyone, but it only made my depression worse. I became completely withdrawn. In the end, it was my family who forced me into therapy. They told me they’d completely cut me off if I didn’t go, which meant I’d also need to leave Verona Falls. Leave the Vipers. So, albeit reluctantly, I went to see a therapist who was part of the surgical team at the hospital. She said to reframe my silence as a good thing. To try to instead be grateful I wasn’t going to talk for talking’s sake. Or blurt out something stupid that I’d later regret. I consider every word I make.
Communicating is an effort for me. It takes time and thought, and she said to see that as my own unique power.
Maybe I ought to think about some things I can say to Vani. Some questions to ask her to try to get to know her better.
I’ve not really been one for relationships, but I guess I’m in one now. It might be toxic, but it’s definitely not casual. I’d kill anyone, other than Saint or Lex, who put their hands on her. Literally, not figuratively.
She turns onto the freeway and taps my hand twice. I realize she means to hold on, so I do, and, when she jerks the bike forward with a roar, I want to throw my head back and laugh.
This feels like freedom.
I would whoop out my joy if I could.
Instead of being all macho about being the passenger and not the rider, I do something I'm not very good at in general. I relinquish control and give trust to another person. She's an excellent rider, and I let one of my hands drift from her waist and onto her thigh, holding her tightly there around her lower hip, as I feel the muscles in the side of her leg flex with every micro adjustment she makes to this huge machine.
It's hot; there's no denying it.
We're only on the freeway for around twenty minutes before she takes a turn to the left, and we wind up long country roads. The scenery is beautiful, and I zone out, my mind flicking from subject to subject. I think about Lex and hope he's okay. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for him to be separated from all of us, while being kept captive by that madman. We should have done something sooner about the rumor about us circulating around the college, but I think maybe in some dark way we kind of liked it. It gave us the air of danger that meant people stayed away from us. Or maybe that's just my perspective, and Saint and Lex would vehemently disagree.
After being on the road for what feels like a couple of hours, my ass and legs are starting to feel numb. Vani must be feeling the same way, because when a gas station appears on the horizon, she indicates and pulls off the road. We climb off the bike, and I watch as she stretches, while at the same time unfastening her helmet and lifting it from her head, shaking her thick hair free. She could be a girl in a rock video right now.
God, she really is gorgeous. Not just sexy, but beautiful too. There's a wildness to her that calls to the feral side within me.
“I need the restroom,” she says. “And a drink. Do you want any snacks or a drink?”
I take out my phone to type, and she waits patiently. She’s never shown me a moment of frustration around my struggle to communicate, never once laughed or taken the piss out of me like some might, even in jest. I love that about her. She’s just accepted who I am, one hundred percent.
My thumbs fly across the screen and then I show it to her. I’ll grab us something to eat. Any preferences?
“A bag of chips and a Coke would be great” she says, and then adds, “Diet.”
I frown. You don’t need to diet . I admonish her.
She giggles. “I just like the taste, Zane.”
I study her for a moment and nod, accepting her explanation. As she walks away and I peel off to the right, I think back to how those fuckers picked on her at the college because of her weight. I should have crushed the life out of them for doing so.
Hands flexing and unflexing as I imagine strangling those preppy bastards, I enter the gas station. It’s one of those places that reminds me of old nineties movies. It’s like it’s been frozen in time. There’s the sunglasses stand with the mirrored lenses all lined up. The snacks, the cooler, buzzing and gurgling as if it’s got a bad case of indigestion.
The woman behind the counter looks as old as the place itself. She’s doing a puzzle or a crossword or something, and only glances at me briefly. Her eyes take me in, then she simply goes back to what she’s doing. It’s a refreshing change. People normally stare at me as if I’m a serial killer.
I grab drinks and a bag of chips for Vani, and a breakfast sandwich for myself, which I toss into the microwave that’s available. After I’ve paid, I wonder if we need gas. I head outside to see Vani coming from the restroom. I stride over to her and ask her if she wants me to fill the bike up, writing it out on my phone and showing it to her.
“Yeah, but let’s eat first.” Beyond us, a little to the right, are a few benches, looking out over the lonely stretch of road and to the fields beyond. Want to sit? I message.
“Sure, that would be good.”
We eat in silence. I can tell she’s troubled, but, in my experience, people will talk if you give them space. She twists her Coke can in her hands and blurts, “I hope Lex is doing okay.”
I place my arm around her shoulders and my chin on her head, and nod against her scalp.
She lets out a deep sigh. “I know we’re doing this for him, but I still feel guilty, taking off.”
I take my phone out and write, Lex is tough, and you have something Jarl wants. He’ll be okay.
She gives a tiny smile. “He’s tougher than Saint. Imagine if they’d taken the other twin. I don’t think Saint would have fared well without a fresh change of clothes.”
I find myself smiling, but I’m not sure I agree about the tough part. Saint is borderline psychotic, and that comes with a strange kind of strength of its own.
I kiss the top of her head then unwind my arm from her shoulder so I can use both hands to type.
How can I win your father over?
She reads the message and bursts out laughing. “Oh, I don’t think you can. Just pray he doesn’t kill you with his bare hands.”
I stare at her for a long beat, and she laughs some more. “Don’t worry, pretty baby. I’ll protect you.”
I scowl and write, pretty baby????
She giggles. “You know, facially, you kind of are. You’re huge and all inked up, but your face is… beautiful.”
I touch my jaw as if pondering what she’s said. Am I? I know women like me because I’m intimidating and big, but I’ve never thought as to whether I’m handsome. Then, because it makes me paranoid, and without really thinking about it, I stroke my fingers over the scar at my throat.
Her eyes soften, and she gently touches my wrist, stilling my movement. “Scars are sexy on big, bad men,” she says. She isn’t smiling now; she’s serious. “And anything that’s part of you will always be sexy to me, Zane.”
Her cheeks flush and she dips her head. I want to ask her if she really thinks that, but I don’t. I chicken out and look away, too.
I glance at my phone and scrunch my wrapper in my hand. She finishes her chips and tosses back the rest of her soda.
She sighs. “We better fill up on gas and then get going. You ready?”
I nod and pick up all our trash, dropping it in the can as we pass. We pay for the gas and fill up the tank. It wouldn’t be a good idea to run out on these lonely roads.
“You want a go?” she asks, waving the keys at me.
I stare at her.
“Just for a while.” She shrugs. “Thirty minutes or so?”
I nod eagerly.
She leans in and nuzzles a spot on the side of my neck. “I kind of want to wrap my thighs around you for a bit, Zane,” she murmurs.
I want to growl at her words.
My palm cups her nape, and I pull her into me, my lips taking hers in a soft, warm kiss. She tastes salty and sweet. Probably the chips and Coke she’s just had. It’s a heady combination, and I lick at her lower lip, enjoying her little moan at the action.
God, I’m hard, and I’d love to bend her over this bike and have my way with her, but I think the old woman in the gas station will call the cops on us if we do that.
Instead, I kiss her one last time, and then pat her ass, before I swing my leg over the bike.
She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to wrap her legs around me. As I take the turns on the road, Vani presses herself tightly to me. She hugs my waist and her legs grip against mine. Her core is pressed against my ass, and my dick is hard, which means I need to force myself to focus on the road.
It’s a beautiful kind of torture.
After we’ve been driving for a while, me lost in the road and the feel of her, she taps my forearm. I understand what she’s saying. Her turn. I slow the bike and pull to the side of the road.
We both get off and remove our helmets for a breather, the cool air delicious against my hot head.
“We’ll be entering my father’s territory soon,” she says. “There are often patrols, and this is my bike, and I need to be on the front of it in case we run into any of them.”
I nod, understanding. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Is she worried about how it will go when we have to face her father’s men? Is she worried for my safety? Another thought occurs to me—will her father even allow her to return to Verona Falls if he finds out about us? At least she’d still be in the same country, unlike the case might be with Saint and Lex, but it wouldn’t be the same.
Unable to resist, I steal one more kiss. It’s not wild or deep, but kind of tender. Her lips are incredibly soft, and even when we end the kiss, we stand, our foreheads pressed together, our noses grazing. Her fingers loop through mine, so we’re connected. The kiss breaks open something in my chest a little, and when I pull back, I drink in her face. I could stare at her forever. Just being with her makes me feel more like a man than I have my entire life.
Shit, this feels an awful lot deeper than I think I’ve admitted to myself. Unsure of how to deal with that, I blink and drop her hand and turn away. I pull my helmet back on and clear my throat. She watches me for a long beat and then does the same.
Once we’re back on the bike, I hold on to her and scan the road ahead, watching for other bikes.