17. Ash #2
I swear her face lights up, something like excitement sparkling in her eyes. She nods, and my smile stretches wide. It’s about time I show her what it’s like to ride with a devil.
I’m pretending her ride with Kai didn’t happen.
Before long, I have her in the garage, one of my black hoodies swallowing her whole.
My eyes bore into hers the entire time I buckle her helmet, and she looks right back, not dropping my gaze for a second.
For a split second, the urge to lean in and kiss her steals me away, but I push that thought far fucking away.
Then I swing my leg over my Harley. My pride and fucking joy. A slow wicked smile curves my mouth as I reach my hand out to her, a dare in my eyes. And fuck me, does she accept, gripping my hand and jumping behind me.
Tentatively, her arms wrap around my stomach, but that just won’t do.
My fingers wrap around her wrists, tugging her body to mine.
Soft curves press against my back, and I tuck her hands into the waistband of my pants, her small fingers curling in the hair there.
It makes me rock hard in an instant, and I don’t miss the way her breathing picks up.
With a twist, the engine revs loudly, echoing in the small space, and we speed off, her breathy gasp lightning through my veins. And we are soaring through the night, cool wind whipping at us as I navigate through the quiet streets.
It’s my favourite time to ride, when most of the world is asleep. These are the hours when all the bad things happen. The hours when monsters like me can roam free.
Instead of heading into the city, I turn away, towards the surrounding mountains. Roads wind up and up, further and further away from Havenport Harbour and everyone in it.
I didn’t plan to bring her here, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. I don’t slow down until the city lights thin out behind us.
The road climbs, curling into the dark as her body stays pressed to mine. It feels right, the way she fits there. It’s something I’ve dreamt of ever since I saw her. It’s been in every one of my darkest fantasies.
Eventually, I ease the bike to a stop.
The lookout opens up in front of us, wide and quiet, the city sprawled out below like something alive and breathing.
Tree tops slowly sway just below us, wind sifting through my hair.
Havenport Harbour glows in the distance, lights scattered like stars fallen to earth. From up here, it almost looks peaceful.
I cut the engine; the silence hits differently after the roar.
My hands linger longer than they should when I help her off the bike and unclip her helmet. When I pull it free, her hair spills out, wild from the ride, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. She steps forward on instinct, drawn towards the twinkling view.
“Oh,” she breathes. I follow her gaze.
It’s the same view she watches from her penthouse. Same harbour. Same lights. Same city. Just from a different perspective.
Looking back at her, her eyes are wide, the city reflecting in her deep, chocolate eyes. I watch her take it in, the way her shoulders loosen, the way her chest rises on a slow, steady breath.
“This is...” she trails off, searching.
“Different,” I finish quietly, unable to take my eyes off her.
She nods, her eyes flicking up at me. It’s been months since I’ve come up here, maybe even years. The title of being president of the club is taking my sole purpose. But there was a time when I’d be up here nightly. A time when I needed the silence, the perspective. A dark time.
It feels different being here with her.
The lookout is more of a little alcove, a barely travelled path. Just a split in an old road, where the trees don’t block what’s hidden below. I found it when I stole my dad’s bike when I was twelve, and rode as far as I could, with the intent of never coming back. More like, this place found me.
I’d stopped right here, doubled over, air wheezing in and out of my chest, staring down at the city that harbours so much cruelty and death. Even then, even as a kid, something had clicked into place.
From here, it looked manageable. The city that I feared seemed so small, so weak. I knew in that moment that I would conquer it. Control it. I’d be the fucking cruelty.
Standing here now, all those years later, with the angel beside me, that same thought settles heavy in my gut.
She leans forward, eyes tracing the lights below, completely unaware of the monstrous thoughts I think when I look at the same view. She sees life down there; movement, possibility. I see something else. Something sick.
“Almost as good as your penthouse view,” I mock, bitterness creeping into my voice as my hands slide into my pockets.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, her eyes skimming over the moving stars below.
“Better,” she breathes.
That answer throws me. Better? With drawn brows, I watch her, heaviness settling on my chest. We stand side by side in silence, the wind whipping at our clothes. While she stares out at the city, my eyes settle on the brightest thing I’ve ever seen.