Chapter Six
AXEL
Idon’t know what the hell has come over me, but I’m in a constant state of worry.
And Sienna is at the center of it all. This gnawing, deep, gut feeling just won’t shake no matter what I do.
The thing about fear, it’s learned. She has a reason for being shaken at the sight of our cuts, and I know it’s connected to Cain.
She all but admitted it herself. I can’t explain how this woman has a hold on me, but I can’t shake it. And I don’t fucking like it.
Unable to sleep, I toss off my sheets, pull on a pair of sweatpants, and leave my room, the door closing behind me with a soft click.
If I’m going to be up the rest of the night, I might as well get some caffeine.
The clubhouse is quiet as I walk down the hallway lined with several ranked members’ bedrooms. Now that Sin has moved out, I’ve considered taking his old one since it’s much bigger than mine, but I just don’t want to deal with the hassle of moving my shit over.
Plus, don’t really want to share a wall with Chaos and Saige.
Their hate-fucking is already heard by everyone in the clubhouse.
Who knew our big bad prez would get turned on by someone just as strong and fierce as he is.
A low light gleams from the kitchen, which is abnormal for three in the morning, but not unheard of, especially since Rolo was murdered.
Everyone’s feeling uneasy after finding out there were snakes inside our walls.
As they should. We’ve been hit before at our compound; hell, it happened not long ago, shortly after Saige got here.
But we’ve never had snakes infiltrate our ranks.
That shit won’t stand, and if it’s the last thing we do, we’ll get vengeance on Garrett.
Cain is going to be a much bigger problem.
As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I spot a patch bunny, Becca, bent over, looking for something in the fridge.
The bottom of her ass peeks out, giving a little glimpse of the bare skin between her legs.
I don’t think, just react on instinct. My hands slide over the bare globes of her ass, palming the muscles.
She responds just as she always does, needy, desperate, and more importantly, willing.
My cock stirs to life. Becca stands, pushing her ass against my crotch and dropping her head back against my shoulder.
“What are you doing inside the clubhouse at this time? Looking for trouble? Shouldn’t you be in your bunkhouse?”
“Mmm. If it involves you, I welcome all the trouble,” she purrs, rubbing her ass against my hardening dick.
“Looking to get fucked, Becca?”
She hums, pressing further into me. “Fuck me, Wrath. You know I’m yours to play with.”
I move us quickly, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pressing her forward so her body bends over one of the counters.
I pull open one of the junk drawers, knowing Morgan has stashed condoms in damn near every place around the clubhouse for quick access, and pull one out.
Within seconds, my sweats are pushed down my thighs, and my hard dick is wrapped in latex.
My fingers slide across the wet spot of her underwear, teasing her for a moment as she gyrates her hips in search of my cock.
The patch bunnies know the deal. All I want is a quick fuck. I’ll give them the respect they deserve, but they aren’t getting kisses and sweet whispers from me. And they sure as shit don’t get my fucking cum. I don’t even blow in their mouths. I trust no one.
I drag the fabric down her thighs, then line up my cock with her wet center, rubbing the head through her slick folds.
“If a fuck’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.
” I sink inside her in one thrust, filling her to my hilt.
Becca screams out her appreciation, and it takes all I have not to cover her mouth with my hand.
Noises don’t bother me. In fact, it tells me I’m making her feel good, but right now, it sounds like an icepick to the ears rather than a sound of pleasure.
Her tight warmth surrounds my cock like a glove, but it feels wrong. Off. I’ve been feeling off kilter since meeting Sienna. Just the thought of her now has me nearly stumbling back.
I pull out quickly, thrusting hard back in.
That spike of arousal doesn’t come as I fuck into her, holding her hips tight.
Becca sounds . . . obnoxious, her voice grating on my skull, my skin feeling tight.
I crack my neck side to side and try to focus on the feeling of her pussy wrapped around me, her dark brown hair, the curve of her ass, the way her cunt clenches around me.
But nothing seems to help. My mind keeps wandering back to the pretty waitress with the lightest blonde hair I’ve ever seen, her endless eyes, the terror etched into her features. This feels so fucking wrong.
Becca comes, her cunt spasming around my cock.
I fuck her through it with my half-hard dick, then I quickly pull out, using my hand on the back of her neck to hold her in place as I moan, low and deep, pretending to reach my climax.
I quickly get the condom off, wrapping it up with a tissue and tossing it into the garbage.
When I turn back around, Becca looks flushed, a post-orgasm haze on her face, but she doesn’t seem any the wiser that I just faked getting off. I’ve fucked these women more times than I can count, and I’ve never had this issue.
All I want to do right now is get back to my room and clean myself up, a heavy feeling of shame washing over me. What the fuck is even happening right now? Sex is my thing. I’ve never felt shame about anything I’ve done before, but that’s exactly what’s slamming into me right now.
“That was a nice surprise,” Becca says, pulling my attention back to her. Not wanting to make her feel like she did anything wrong, I give her an appreciative smile.
“Thanks for the fuck. I’ll see you around, gotta get some work in.
” I don’t wait for a response, instead leaving the kitchen and stomping off back to my room, coffee long forgotten.
I don’t stop until I’ve torn my sweats off and the scorching hot water of my shower is beating down on my shoulders.
I scrub all over twice before I start to feel somewhat like myself again.
“That’s not going to fucking work. Sex is what we do.
That’s our stress reliever. That’s how we have fun.
Get your shit together,” I say to my dick, looking down at my soft shaft with irritation.
I don’t even want to attempt to dissect whatever the hell just happened in the kitchen, and I definitely don’t want a repeat of it.
Instead, I towel off, throw on some clean sweats, and wake up my computer with only one thing on my mind.
Finding out everything I can about Sienna.
While I wait for my computer to boot up, my mind wanders to her, wondering where she is, if she’s safe, and what she’s doing.
I stare at the burner phone, willing it to fucking chime, but it never comes.
I’m chalking it up to finding a woman who clearly has been abused, scared out of her mind, and knowing that she holds information that could help my club find the assholes responsible for taking Rolo from us.
It has absolutely nothing to do with how enthralling and addictive she is. Nothing at all.
Last year, when our road sergeant, Rogue, had some shit go down with his old lady, Kinsey, I got to work hand in hand with one of the best hackers and private investigators in the country.
Wes Draven lives a quiet, unassuming life with his little wife, Lily, in Aspen Ridge—who’s half his age, and also his son’s ex-girlfriend, but that’s a story for a different day.
When we need him, he drops everything to help, including giving me access and a crash course on how to look up what I need on my own.
I’m not nearly as good as him, but I can hunt some shit down when I need it, and I’m getting better and better at it.
The program opens, and without much to go off of, I type in the only information I have—her name and the damn town, hoping for fucking anything.
The results populate, and the breath is stolen from my lungs.
I’m not easily surprised, but this shocks the shit out of me.
It’s a fucking gold mine of information, when I expected a single hit if I was lucky.
Link after link. I click on the first news article when my stomach bottoms out.
I scan the document with furrowed brows and a knot in my throat.
No wonder Sienna wears her fear like armor.
Nausea rolls through me as I read her recount of exactly what that fucking monster did to her. How he held her down against her will, how she was too drugged to fight back, the details of how he raped her repeatedly, then the burns, the things he said. I force myself to read every single word.
I’ve never felt the need for violence so strongly before, the need to get revenge.
But that’s exactly what it is. Men have a fucking superpower to be the calm in a woman’s storm, to be her safe harbor, a place where she can go to let her brain turn off, but instead, there are men like fucking Cain out there abusing them, harming them, giving them a reason to fear us all, when they should be fucking worshiped and cherished.
It’s not all men, but it’s always a man.
And they ruin a good thing for the rest of us.
Needing to take the edge off, I open the small stash box that sits on my desk and pull out a joint, lighting it up. The earthly scent of marijuana floats around my head as I take my first inhale, letting it fill my lungs and spread through my veins.
The strength she must have to keep going, to push forward every day knowing that he’s out there somewhere. If it’s the last thing I do, I will kill Cain, rid the earth of his evil and pestilence.