by Romi Hart
Zeke wanted to throw his glass against a wall and watch it shatter, the golden liquid inside running down the boards. He wanted to smash the whiskey bottle, which was nearly empty after a day and a half, and slam it into Harrison’s face, and then spin back and bust it over Rafe’s jaw. It wasn’t so much about them as it was about the roiling self hatred inside. These two were just the faces that wouldn’t allow him to shrink into a corner of his mind where there was no pain and no shame and nothing to worry about.
But he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t give in, they’d hover and fuss like old maids, and that was the last thing Zeke wanted. If he couldn’t be with Leigh, he just wanted to be alone. “Fine. Food it is. And then, I’m going to lock myself in my room and get some privacy. No more mother hen act.”
To Zeke’s relief, Harrison hit tails, and he got on the phone to order some burgers while Rafe had to take a call from Kira. It gave him space, and he closed his eyes, going over the situation again and trying to determine if he could have done anything different to change the result. Could he have kept Leigh if he’d told her the circumstances rather than breaking it off? Could he have saved her from being kidnapped, and would that have kept her from freaking out about the safety and guarantee of their future?
Or maybe, if he’d spent less time at the club, or agreed to give Gomez something, Leigh wouldn’t have been in danger. Maybe he should have skipped the meeting, missed out on uncovering the narcs who had been reporting back to the Ravens. If he’d been here, safe, she might not have left.
At least, not right away.
But there would have come a moment when she couldn’t handle the pressure, and by then, he would have been in so deep he couldn’t have handled it. Not that he was doing a great job now, but at least he was alive and kicking.
If barely.
No, Leigh had made a decision, had recognized that she didn’t have the strength to hold on to him, to deal with the damaged goods. And while Zeke saw a strength inside of her she didn’t even seem to know was there, he couldn’t convince her of that. And he would rather have his heart dashed on the floor now than ten years from now, when he’d grown so accustomed to having her here that he literally couldn’t breathe without her at his side.
Drawing in a deep breath that burned going down, he tipped the bottle up to pour another glass, but only a couple of drops rolled out. He thought about having someone bring him more, but he had a feeling that Rafe or Harrison would try their whole intervention process again. Instead, he decided maybe it was time to get up and move. He’d been here for hours, unmoving, letting himself get lost in thought.
Pushing to his feet, he limped over to the bar, his knee stiff, and tossed the empty bottle in the garbage. He reached into the fridge under the bar, and when Rafe scowled at him from across the room, he held up the bottle of water, rolling his eyes at the concern and judgment in his friend’s face. Then, he started down the hall toward his bunkroom.
“Where are you going?” Harrison asked, catching up to him and grabbing his arm.
“I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. Come get me when the food gets here. I’ll eat. Alone,” he added before Harrison could demand he come out and interact with others.
In his room, he guzzled the water, which tasted pretty damn good. He was definitely dehydrated if he enjoyed the taste of water more than whiskey. When he felt like going back out there, he’d have to bring a few more bottles in here and try to at least take care of his physical well being. There wasn’t much he could do for his mind, though.
He laid back on his bed, and he must have dozed because the loud pounding on his door came far too soon. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he called. He still wasn’t hungry and didn’t care if the burger got cold. But the banging came again. “Damn it, Harrison, I’ll eat when I’m ready! Give me a few minutes!”
“The food’s not here yet,” Harrison called back, sounding even more irritated than Zeke felt. “There’s a messenger here who says you have to be the one to come out and sign for the package.”
Rolling his eyes, Zeke sat up and grumbled before pushing to his feet. This was insanity. Why couldn’t he just drown in his sorrow? Not literally; he didn’t plan to drink anymore. But he didn’t want to be bothered anymore, either. Shuffling to the door, he flung it open, finding Harrison leaning on the door frame and looking anxious. “What the hell, bro?”
He shrugged. “I’m just delivering the instructions.” He turned and walked away, leaving Zeke to follow. Clenching his jaw, Zeke strode down the hallway in a dark mood, ready to unleash on the messenger who was being a bit too demanding. But as he rounded the corner and glanced into the bar, he froze, staring at someone he’d only met once but who had made quite an impression. Why would Rory be here?
Terrified, he shouldered past several of his brothers, who stared lasciviously at the woman. Her beauty had never been lost on him, but Zeke had already fallen for Leigh and didn’t feel anything stirring other than anxiety. “Is Leigh okay?” he demanded, more harshly than he’d intended.
But Rory didn’t budge, her small form seeming larger as she stood strong. “That’s a very subjective question. She’d not in trouble, if that’s what you mean.” She held out a piece of paper and a pen. “I’m here to deliver something for her, and you can’t have it unless you sign this.”
Eyeing her carefully, he took the paper and read it.
In order to receive this package, the recipient must agree not to turn it away without first considering its importance. Please sign below to agree to the terms and conditions.
If that wasn’t the strangest, most cryptic note he’d ever read, he’d let someone break his knee all over again. Reaching for the pen mainly out of curiosity, he bent over the bar and signed on the line provided before handing it back to Rory and crossing his arms. “This better be good,” he told her.
She smirked. “We’ll see. By the way, you look like hell.”
He snorted. “Thanks. Just give me the package.”
She walked away, a swagger to her step, and opened the door. And Zeke’s heart stopped.
Leigh stood there, looking nervous, and it took everything inside not to run over and grab her in his arms, swing her around, and kiss her senseless. But now he understood the note. She was terrified he’d send her away, and nothing could be further from the truth. Slowly, she walked in and came to him, and several of the other guys suddenly had other interests, bowing out of the room.
When they were alone, Leigh told him, “I hate the idea of living without you, and I’m still scared that something will happen to take you away from me before I’m ready to lose you. But I want to spend as much time as possible with you until then, Zeke. I love you, and if you can forgive me for running away, I want to be with you.”
Smiling broadly, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “All I want is you, Nurse Curvy. I love you.” She beamed at him, and he couldn’t help himself. He took her hand in his and dragged her down the hall, to his room, slamming the door behind them and locking it. Turning to face her, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her with all the passion and fear and need that had filled him for the last two weeks, and maybe throughout his life.
Pulling back, he told her, “I never want to lose you again, Leigh. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I need you so I can breathe.”
She laughed with tears streaming down her face. “The feeling is mutual, Zeke. I thought I could move on, but all I did was fall apart.”
Needing to feel her, Zeke started yanking at clothes, tossing them everywhere, and Leigh didn’t hesitate to join the party. Her creamy, flawless skin begged to be touched, and he backed her into the bed, falling with her and kissing her as his hands roamed every inch of her that he could reach.
His cock ached to be inside her, and she thrust her hips against him, as if urging him on she thrust her fingers into his hair, and for once, he was glad he hadn’t cut it, shuddering at the feel of it curling around her hands. He lift
ed her legs, and she complied, wrapping them around his waist, and he slid his tip along the wet slit until he found her center, throbbing already.
“I can’t wait,” he moaned against her lips. “I need you.”
She nodded her assent. “I want to feel you inside me,” she groaned, and Zeke didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her, letting her cover him like a sleeve. She was soft, warm, and wet, and her pussy clenched around him delightfully. He wasn’t going to last long, but he was determined to give her the pleasure she deserved.
He fell into a rhythm that was slow enough to be maddening, and she moaned and arched her back, writhing beneath him. It nearly made him stumble, and he knew he had to speed things up for her or he’d reach the finish line too soon. Her expression was priceless, angelic in nature, and it drove him wild.
Determined not to screw this up and leave her wanting, Zeke shoved a hand between them, finding her clit with his thumb and rolling it around. Leigh nearly came off the bed as she arched and cried out, his name on her lips like music to his ears. And then she erupted, her body convulsing as hard as her inner walls grabbed at him. She raked her nails down his arms, and he winced, but it was worth it as he felt her juices pouring over him. That was the last straw, and he plunged fiercely, deeper into her. He felt his release build, and as he hit the end of her, his cock jumped, exploded, and he filled her as he held onto her like she might otherwise float away from him.
She clung just as tightly, her nails digging what had to be crescent shaped scars into his shoulders. But he would wear them proudly, if it meant she was going to stay with him.
Moving slowly, he raised his head and kissed her temple, gazing at her in wonder. How had he gotten so lucky, and how could he make it last?
“Zeke, I know you can’t make promises from one day to the next about your safety or mine,” she said quietly, gazing into his eyes with those beautiful crystal blue pools of hers. “But I can handle that, if you’ll just be honest with me about the dangers and do your best to come home to me in one piece.”
He could live with that. He’d have to tell her about Gomez, but that would come later, when he wasn’t still questioning the reality of all this. There was nothing he’d ever wanted so much in this world, and he nodded. “All I ask is that you not run away again without talking to me first. This is all new to me, but I want to do it together. Always.”
She kissed him. “I like that idea.” She looked around and seemed content. “It feels sort of like home here.”
“It should,” he told her. “If you want to bring in some creature comforts of your own, or something that feels more like you, I’d welcome it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You know, I was thinking of moving.”
Zeke frowned. “I know you’re not talking about actually living here. I mean, you can stay here any time…” He trailed off as she grinned and rolled her eyes, and he started to laugh. “I guess that’s your invitation to me to invite you to move into my house.”
“I had thought of that. You know, assuming you want me. And that you don’t have to toss out all your other girlfriends.”
Growing serious, Zeke gazed at Leigh, really studied her, and was floored that this beauty was his. “I told you, I’ve never taken anyone else home. And there is no one else. As far as I’m concerned, there never has been. Not like you.” He kissed her again, this time softly but with all the emotion he’d never understood before, all the desire that had grown into so much more.
Leigh was radiant, and he wanted to keep her here all evening. But there would be plenty of time for that in the future. Instead, he sat up and pulled her with him. “I think we should celebrate. We throw a pretty good party here, and the guys will be glad to see me doing anything other than moping around.”
“You do look a little worse for the wear,” she teased.
Zeke laughed heartily. “I’ll go shave. Is your friend still here?”
“I think so. She was going to wait, in case this didn’t go well.” She blushed and laughed. “Besides, she’s a little obsessed with bikers.”
“Well, get dressed and find her. Tell her she’s invited to stay for the party. And she’s welcome here any time. After all, she brought you back to me.” And it was definitely a package worth keeping.
Eli (Devil’s Flame MC, Book 3) - Special Preview
1
“Boot heels and dust are pretty much all you can ever expect around here,” Rory mumbled, sliding her body atop the bar stool closest to her. Long, tanned legs seemed to go on for miles as she leaned her elbows onto the bar top, “Ever wonder why that is?” she asked, glancing up at the bartender staring her down. It was a new bar, but the statement still held true. No matter where the hell one wound up in this part of Texas they always ended up dealing with those two things. It had been a cultural way of life for about as long as the Texas Rangers had existed – and then some.
“Sounds like a lot of lip smacking.” The bartender snorted. “You gonna order something, or what?” he asked. Rory shrugged, shaking her head slightly as she reached into her blue jean cutoff pocket.
“What can you get me that’s under five bucks?” she asked, slapping a crumpled bill on the bar in annoyance. She didn’t have the time for the bullshit with what she had been going through lately, and knowing that her friend had just landed the one thing Aurora wanted most had sent her gears into overdrive – with very little gratification resulting from the end of the ride. How the hell was Leigh always so lucky? She didn’t even find motorcycle clubs that appealing and yet, she still ended up landing herself a ride or die man. Another wave of envy fluttered through her – her disappointment having been the very thing that sent her to this shithole dive bar to start with.
“I got beer on tap. PBR, Bud, Coors?” the bartender remarked. Aurora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Five dollars for a freaking domestic beer, and no hard liquors to choose from? What the hell was going on in the world?
“Haven’t you got any craft beers?” Rory asked, I can’t fucking stand any of those domestics, she thought.
“Craft beers run ya a bit more. Alternatively, I can give you a stiff shot – it isn’t well night, sugar.” The bartender stated in a gruff voice. Rory winced, Who the fuck did this guy think he was, talking to her like that? She’d made a mistake in choosing this new, obviously lousy and overpriced bar.
“And I reckon I’m two minutes late for happy hour, right?” she asked. The man stared at her for a moment and gave a shrug.
“Not sure I follow what ya mean there, hon. Fact is, happy hour isn’t for another four hours.” He mumbled. Rory chuckled, using all the force of self-control she could muster – and immediately failing.
“Pft, are you truly that dense? Fuck this,” she muttered, slapping her hand back down on the bill and shoving it into her pocket. Her right hand lifted, and she smiled the sweetest syrup dripping grin she could muster as her middle finger extended, “A little birdy told me to give you a message: fuck you and the dusty donkey balls you rode in on.” She muttered, sashaying through the bar and slamming the door behind her. If there was one thing Aurora hated more than any other thing, it was an asshole who didn’t treat their customers right. There was really only one place she would get what she was looking for, and it sure as hell wasn’t in this dead-end joint.
* * *
“Hey,” Leigh’s voice broke through Rory’s thoughts as she sat at the end of the bar nursing her drink.
“Hey,” Rory said, her earlier sentiments finally giving her a little break, as if the devil himself must have been on break and leaving her to her lonesome for a while.
“Why are you so sullen and pitiful?” Leigh asked. Rory’s eyes flashed to the brooding biker laughing with some other dude as they played pool.
“Just feeling a little lonely is all,” Rory mumbled.
“You’re still hung up on trying to find you a ride or die guy, aren’t ya?” Leigh asked.
“Well, since you already have one, i
t seems I’m the only one who’s lacking,” Rory muttered, “I came here hoping that things would turn out differently,” she finished.
“Well, maybe your sights are set out on the wrong brother. I mean, there’s lots of other patches out there,” Leigh mumbled.
“And yet the one that I’m most attracted to doesn’t even fucking know I exist,” Rory stated as she cast a yearning glance back at Eli. Why does he just stare past any woman who attempts to get his attention? she wondered.
“I think you just settled my argument for me, Rory. I mean, that’s the issue right there. He can’t be the only guy here who is badass or sexy. Trust me, there’s someone out there for you.” Leigh smiled, lifting her arm and waving the bartender over, “Hey, get her another, will you?” she asked, turning back toward Rory, “On to topics of greater happiness. I have a huge thing coming up, and I really want you to be a part of it.”
“What’s that?” Aurora asked. She’s going to brag more about her great relationship. Just watch, she thought to herself.
“Well, my man and I are…I’m getting marked to be his official old lady. Can you believe that?”
“Honestly, no, and how does that happen? You hated the MC life before,” Rory stated. Just as she’d thought; right into the deep end, hook, line, and sinker.
“Don’t be such a sour puss, Rory. You sound a teeny bit jealous, and for the record, I still hate the MC life, but I’m not going to let that get between me and Zeke. It’s his culture, and I love him.”
“Quit razzing me, Leigh. My life’s already depressing enough,” she mumbled, stealing a quick peek back over at Eli, who had his back turned to the two of them by this point, deeply engaged in conversation such that Aurora knew immediately he had no interest in anything the two of them were doing or saying.
“It’s my job to give you a little shit here and there. It toughens you up.” Leigh giggled, “And if you don’t stop staring at him his skin is liable to melt off his bones. You’re practically devouring him with your eyes,” Leigh muttered, “Go over there and talk to him already,” she encouraged, and Aurora inhaled a breath and lifted her glass, quickly downing the contents and placing the tumbler back down on the counter.