Chapter 38 #3
I wait patiently for her to return and dance around the fire once again, eager for another glimpse of her shapely legs whenever she lifts that skirt just a little higher than necessary to spin and twirl, flashing those glorious thighs in the glow of the flames.
She knows I’m here watching. It’s as much of a show for me as it is for him.
Fucking prick dragged her away, made out with her hot and heavy for all to see on the dock… above the water …daring the world to try and take her from him… Well, perhaps not the world…
The soft crack and brief hiss of a beer bottle being uncapped breaks the spiraling of my mind, and my gaze slides to the female form approaching me.
I clock her from the corner of my eye. Blonde.
Well-endowed. Tight little shorts, and a bottle in her hand like an invitation.
She saunters up to me, all heat and easy promise.
“Thought you could use some company, all alone over here at a sex party.” The hang-around the MC calls Maxi, slides her hand down my arm as if she already owns me.
I permit her touch for a heartbeat, maybe two.
I know I could fuck her, but I feel nothing.
No rush. No fire. “Not much happening sex wise, but we could change that, baby. I’ve been thinking about your May Pole since before you patched in. ”
I catch her wrist, fingers closing tight enough to make her eyes widen. “ Beltane isn’t strictly a sex party.” Despite the ever-present gravel in my voice, my tone is sharper than I intend. “I’ll pass.”
The blonde blinks, thrown, unaccustomed to being turned down. Or perhaps she’s wondering what she might have read beyond the first paragraph of her Beltane Google search. “You sure?” she teases, tipping her chin in the direction of the dock. “ I don’t mind sharing.”
I scoff without humor. “You aren’t even in the same league,” I mutter, releasing her wrist and stepping back.
Her pretty little face twists with wounded pride.
“You’re better off,” another familiar blonde female says, approaching the disgruntled hang-around. “This prick will only hurt you. Go back to the party.”
With a departing scowl, the patch whore turns and walks away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. I shift my gaze back to the fire and light up another cigarette.
“I don’t know how you managed to pull this off, but it’s just a matter of time before she learns the truth about you,” the Vixen warns.
“It’s in both our best interests for you to walk away, too,” I say.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not an emotionally unstable victim of your abuse. You don’t intimidate me. I will stand up to you, Legion.”
“I’m sure sinking your claws into Viking hasn’t factored into your confidence,” I sneer, sliding my gaze to her once more with an antagonistic grin. “But if it will ease the tension between us on this wonderful May’s Eve… I haven’t seen your friend in weeks… How is she?”
The blonde uncrosses her arms to ball her fists at her sides, and I laugh on a cloud of smoke.
“Val!” Viking calls from across the fire. “Get over here!”
Reluctant to obey, she glares harder at me. “ Stay away from her ,” she warns once again.
The old oak trees dripping in Spanish moss swallow the moonlight when I venture further into the woods to take a piss in private.
When I return, so has Vanna. I spot her instantly, standing with Cherry and a few of the other club girls, laughing at something one of the Ol’ ladies said.
A breeze catches her hair, and as she brushes the strands from her face, unsnagging a few tendrils from her flower crown, her eyes lock with mine.
She smiles, excusing herself from the group of women to approach me, only breaking her magnetic gaze from mine to glance briefly at the Steel Vixen standing beside Viking as she passes.
The slight measure of hostility brewing just below the surface between them bodes well for me.
The longer they avoid each other, the better, and they have done so all night.
Vanna makes one more pitstop at an ice cooler, bending to select two glass bottles.
“Another beer?” she offers when she reaches me. I could take it or leave it, I’ve had my fill, but she’s the one offering, so I take it. “Would you mind?” she asks with a coy, little smile, holding out her hard lemonade to me. “The caps hurt my hands.”
I remember, vividly, the feel of those petal-soft hands on my body… Without a word, I twist the cap off and tuck it into my cut pocket.
“Thanks.” She smiles again, soft and easy. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“ I am now.”
She takes a dainty sip from her bottle.
“Dance with me?”
She seems surprised by my sudden request, and although her friendly demeanor hasn’t wavered, I can tell there is something delicate folding up inside her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” she says, gentle, but firm, and low enough to spare me the embarrassment of rejection. There isn’t any cruelty in her denial, though. Simply, walls. Loyal fucking walls.
I lean into her, though I’m cautious to maintain enough distance to seem respectful while still close enough for her to feel the weight of my attention. “Have you forgotten your promise to me, sweet one?” I allow a slight grin to tug at the corner of my mouth. “You still owe me a dance.”
Her lips part in surprise, remembering, and a memory of my own forces its way to the forefront of my mind… What it felt like to slip my tongue between those luscious lips…
For a breathless moment, the air between us feels charged, so thick it hurts… That pull. That spark in the darkness she keeps pretending doesn’t exist between us. It was a significant May’s Eve that brought us together, years ago… The urge to divulge that secret churns within my tortured soul.
Not yet…
I stare at the way she chews her bottom lip, her nerves getting the better of her… Or perhaps, devil willing… something more…
“I haven’t forgotten,” she says, voice dipping soft. “I’ll make it up to you. Two dances. You pick the songs.”
Two dances… to spare Keegan the sight of her in my arms on this blessed Beltane…
Two dances … A collective seven minutes in Heaven where I can pretend she is mine.
I swallow back the things I can’t say and give her a slow, easy grin instead. “As you wish, sweet one.”
Her appreciative smile is both a balm and a blade.
When Keegan calls for her from across the yard, she spares me one last look, something almost apologetic, before she slips away from me like smoke through my fingers…
T he old Beltane tradition hasn’t been forgotten despite the thinning of the crowd. Only a few of the MC members with the closest bonds of brotherhood remain for the final ritual, though besides Vanna and Viking, the others participate for the sake of amusement.
One by one, and couple by couple, they leap over the flames of the low-burning fire, sealing vows, casting wishes…
I remain near enough in the shadows, arms crossed, cigarette dangling from my lips, waiting for it to happen… Wondering, though fairly certain, what she’ll wish for when she leaps.
She laughs when Keegan catches her hand, pulling her toward the crackling fire, still burning just high enough to matter… The last leap before the flames burn themselves out.
She smiles that wild, unguarded smile at him that most men would kill to see aimed at them even once…
I would…
I have…
He pulls her closer, strong and sure, and lifts her hand to press a kiss against it. Fingers laced, they squeeze each other tighter, just before they run, vaulting the flames in one breathless leap.
Their friends cheer as they land on the other side, and she turns in his steady embrace, flushed and laughing, beautiful, like something worthy of worship. He spins her around in his arms like some fucking Hallmark movie.
I fight the urge to clench my fists, half-tempted to projectile vomit on the remaining flames like a scene from The Exorcist!
But I don’t let the mask slip…
I can’t…
And so, I smile.
I applaud.
I pretend the fire in my heart isn’t mirroring the one dying at my feet …