Vendetta Road

by Christine Feehan

  “I need to get up. Would you mind leaving?” She used her most reasonable voice. She didn’t dare show panic when inside she was shaking like a leaf and wanting to put the blanket over her head.

  “Can’t do that, honey,” he said. “Ice asked me to look after you while he’s getting ready. We’re leaving soon. Need to get back home.”

  That was such a relief. She felt like she could breathe. “I’m Soleil, but I guess you know that. You’re . . .” she prompted.

  “Storm. Ice’s twin.”

  The water went off in the shower, and her heart started pounding all over again. She touched her tongue to her dry lips. “I clearly didn’t drink enough water last night.”

  “Ice left you a couple of aspirin and a bottle of water on the nightstand there.”

  She glanced over, and sure enough, there was a cold bottle of water and a couple of white pills sitting on a tissue. She stretched her arm out from under the covers. “Where is home?”

  He gestured toward the jacket. “Caspar. On the coast.”

  She’d never heard of it. “I live in San Francisco,” she volunteered, because she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.

  “That’s about three and a half to four hours from us. You probably know Sea Haven. Little place but very popular.”

  She nodded. “I’ve actually been there a couple of times. It’s very pretty.” She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “My head is killing me. I know I didn’t drink that much last night. And I don’t get drunk. I don’t get hangovers.”

  “Probably mixing your drinks. Does it every time.” Storm stood up as his twin came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry.

  Ice wore a pair of jeans that rode low on his narrow hips. His torso and abdomen were all muscle. And all scars. She could see the white lines and ridges across his skin. They didn’t detract in the least from his good looks. No man had the right to be that good-looking. His eyes met hers and instantly her stomach did a slow roll, and a million butterflies took wing. At the same time, she recognized him. Her body recognized him. She felt him all over again, waking her at least four times, his body buried in hers. She had a mini orgasm just looking into his eyes.

  She was afraid her makeup was running down her face. It had to be. He looked like a model, and she looked like a wreck. He kept coming straight across the room to her, put his knee on the bed and bent down to take her mouth.

  She should have pulled back. She should have protested. She did neither. She opened her mouth under the coaxing of his and then there was nothing at all but Ice. His mouth. Fire running through her veins. His tongue tangling with hers. His arms sweeping her against him. Tight. Skin to skin. Her breasts pressed into all those defined muscles. Her nipples twin flames dragging over his chest. Her arms slid around his neck of their own accord, and everything but Ice went out of her brain.

  His mouth left hers and he kissed and nipped his way over her chin, down her throat to the swell of her breast. His mouth closed over her left breast while he cupped her right one in his palm, thumb stroking her nipple.

  “Good morning, princess.” His voice was mesmerizing, let alone his mouth. His kisses. His hands.

  “Good morning.” She was shy, when that was absolutely nuts because he’d had his mouth, his fingers and his cock inside her so many times.

  “The shower’s all yours. We have to get moving, babe. We’re pulling out in under an hour. You hungry? Storm can bring you some breakfast if you are.”

  Storm? Her gaze jumped across the room. The man didn’t even have the decency to look uncomfortable. She tried to raise the covers again, although there was that part of her she couldn’t quite control that always thought it was so hot when someone caught glimpses of her. She was ridiculously proud of the fact that she had Ice’s marks all over her breasts and someone saw them there.

  “I’m not hungry.” The thought of eating made her sick. She was going to have to confess to Ice. Tell him the truth. Tell him what a horrible person she was and make the responsible decision to sort it all out. She’d created the mess, and she was the one who had to deal with it, even though she no longer had Kevin.

  Ice had the covers in his hand, and he prevented her from raising them. “Shower, then, Soleil. We’re really in a hurry this morning.”

  “We need to talk.” She needed to tell him they were getting an annulment immediately, that she’d take that responsibility. “I have to talk to you,” she whispered, trying not to look at his brother. She didn’t want him to see the guilt on her face.

  Certainly, Ice wouldn’t want to stay married. They were strangers. She didn’t fit into a club. She didn’t fit in anywhere. And there were Winston and the others, powerful men who wanted her dead. She couldn’t take the chance of them coming into Ice’s life. That wouldn’t be fair either.

  “We can talk after your shower.” Ice pulled the covers all the way back, scooped her up and cradled her in his arms.

  She was totally naked. She wasn’t even wearing panties. Worse, just those kisses and his hands and mouth on her breasts had made her slick with need between her legs. She was in such trouble. She wanted him so much. She wanted to keep him. She told herself he wasn’t a pet, he was a grown, maybe scary, dangerous man, but to her he was the sweetest, kindest, most caring person she’d ever known.

  Ice didn’t seem to think anything of having another man in the room while she was naked. At all. Before she could think she should protest, his mouth came down on hers again, and her brain malfunctioned. Her body melted into his. Little sparks of electricity danced over her skin, and lightning seemed to zigzag through her, from her mouth to her breasts to her clit. Her sex clenched hungrily. She seemed to float through the air. That’s what he did to her. Then her feet were on the ground and he was lifting his head.

  “You all right by yourself in here? I can stay and watch you shower,” he offered wickedly. “If I shower with you, we’re never leaving the room.”

  Wrapping her arms around her middle, Soleil backed away from him. Her entire body trembled. Her insides felt shaky. Her breasts ached, and deep inside she throbbed and burned with need. She wanted him to stay there. Her gaze dropped hungrily to the front of his jeans. She loved what he had there. She wanted it.

  He let out a groan. “Babe. We’re not going to get anywhere if we keep this up.”

  She knew that. She couldn’t think straight when she was with him. She should have been telling him they weren’t married, and he couldn’t touch or kiss her, but instead, she wanted him to push her up against the wall and repeat all the amazing things he’d done to her the night before. She remembered everything with great clarity. She hadn’t been drunk, not even when he’d laid her out on the pool table, her wedding dress bunched around her waist, and eaten her until she’d been screaming for mercy.

  She knew she should be embarrassed about her bad behavior, but it was impossible when he made her feel beautiful and special and wanted. When he’d given her the most amazing orgasms ever and when he was still looking at her as if she were the only woman on the face of the earth and he could easily slam her up against a wall and take her a million times without it ever being enough.

  Ice brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Hurry, baby.” He gave her a swat on her bottom and turned away from her.

  She watched him go out before turning to look at herself in the mirror. She nearly groaned. She had bruises on her face. Some swelling. She also had makeup under her eyes with a faint stream of shadowy black running down her face. How could he even look at her when she was such a mess? Especially with the lust in his eyes that was so plain there?

  The hot water felt wonderful on all the sore places. She had a lot of them. She scrubbed her skin, although she found herself reluctant to remove Ice’s scent from her body. She liked belonging to him—no—she loved it. Even in the light of day, knowing it would be a mista
ke to carry on with the fantasy fairy tale they’d woven together, she wanted him and the life he offered. His club. His family. She had things she had to face. She couldn’t run away and just become someone else—although she’d fantasized about doing just that a million times from early childhood on. And after she told him the truth—that she’d deliberately gotten him drunk—no man would want to be trapped into marriage, especially a man like Ice.

  She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair with the expensive and great-smelling products Ice had left for her. She wondered vaguely where he’d gotten them. Where he’d gotten the money for the dress. The motel was inexpensive, so it was confusing that he’d laid down so much money for their wedding.

  Wedding. She groaned and stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a towel so she could see what she could do about her face. She didn’t have her clothes, and she needed them. She bent over the sink to study the swelling. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had felt when Winston hit her. Her ribs ached a little and so did her stomach from where Winston had punched her. Actually, her stomach hurt more than anything else, which was probably why she didn’t have any interest in food.

  The door behind her opened and Ice sauntered in, coming right to her. Before she could straighten, he laid a hand on the middle of her back, holding her in place while his other hand caressed and stroked the cheeks of her bottom. She closed her eyes and just savored the way he made her feel. Beautiful. Desirable. Sexy. Like a woman. Wholly feminine.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said. “Brought you some clothes, but now that I see the temptation, I don’t know.” His hand slid lower, fingers finding the instant response he seemed to generate, that slick heat. He buried his fingers deep and then stroked them over her burning clit.

  She couldn’t help pushing back against his hand. “Ice, we aren’t really married, are we?” She sounded breathless. Wanting. She was so addicted to him it was insane. “I mean I know we were at the chapel, but you can’t want . . .” She drifted off, because his fingers were magic and it was impossible to hold comprehensive thoughts.

  “Definitely married, baby. Have the marriage certificate to prove it. We’re locked in nice and tight. Spent all night fucking you. Considering spending the next few days doing the same but not in this dump. You deserve so much better, and I want you to see the house.”

  “The house?” she echoed faintly. Reality was getting away from her. “There’s a house?”

  “Yeah, princess. A house. It isn’t exactly the castle you deserve, but it’s nice. And Lana wants us to get home so she can see for herself that you’re all right.” His fingers were gone, and he smacked her on her left cheek a second time. “Get dressed, baby, and let’s get on the road.”

  She leaned against the sink, watching him saunter out with that same easy stride that looked like a leisurely prowl. He was so sexy. So hot. One didn’t marry someone just because they could provide endless orgasms, did they? Could you fall in love with a cock? She had. She was in love with everything about him and definitely his cock. Her body was singing. Alive. Happy. She was happy, if she could push away the guilt. She desperately needed to have the talk with him, but she didn’t want to lose him.

  She took a deep breath and dressed. The clothes were brand-new and fit perfectly. She let herself remember shopping with him. Such a beautiful, unforgettable night. She remembered him making her laugh when she was so scared walking in the open down the street, so afraid Winston or one of his friends would see her. Ice made her feel safe. His brothers and Alena crowded around her, taking her back in the bar, giving her something she’d never had before.

  What was she thinking? Even if she could escape into another life, she had no way of fitting in. She didn’t know the first thing about club life. Or relationships. She’d blow that right away. She stared at herself as she brushed her teeth with the toothbrush that was left for her on the sink, still in its wrapper. He’d thought of everything, including a brush, comb and hair ties. She braided her hair on the off chance that she lost her mind completely and went with him. She wasn’t going to do that. She needed to stop the nonsense before it was completely out of hand, but . . .

  Ice was there again, and she realized he hadn’t closed the door between the bathroom and the main room. She hadn’t even noticed because she was so deep in thought. He caught her thick braid and tugged, pulling her head back.

  “You thinkin’ of leavin’ me already, baby?” He tugged again.

  His eyes met hers and the blue was more crystal, more glacier than she remembered. Sexy as hell. It felt as if he were seeing all the way to her soul. Her sex clenched and her stomach did that slow roll. She pressed her hand there. He didn’t let go of her hair and she felt the pull on her scalp, a small bite of pain that was more erotic than anything else.

  “Well, yes,” she admitted, deciding honesty was really the best policy. “You were drinking, Ice. A lot.” She cleared her throat. “I did this to you. I took one look at you and you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and I wanted you for myself. It was wrong. I know it was. I knew it then but I was drinking, maybe a little too much myself, but that’s not an excuse, I shouldn’t be making excuses . . .”

  “Stop, princess.”

  “You can’t possibly want to be married to me. You don’t know anything at all about me. Isn’t being in a club all about freedom?”

  She tried to make a joke when she didn’t feel in the least humorous. Now that she’d made the confession, and told him the truth, it hurt to know she’d have to leave him. Really hurt. That was unexpected. That was how far she’d wanted to believe in the fairy tale.

  “I knew what I was doing every step of the way, Soleil. I wanted you from the first time I saw you on the street. When you walked into the bar, I knew then I was going to find a way to keep you. You wanted me to sign the prenup, I had no problem with it.” He let go of her hair. “You signed mine. I gave you an out every step of the way. It’s done. We’re married. You’re my wife, and every single club member knows your husband was in here fucking your brains out because you’re not quiet when you come for me.”

  She blushed. That was true. She hadn’t believed in screaming orgasms. She wasn’t even certain she’d believed in orgasms, screaming or quiet, until Ice. Now, it was the absolute truth, he could make her scream and he had—often.

  “Sex and marriage aren’t at all the same thing,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, if all you’re feeling is the sex right now, I’ll take it.”

  Ice caught her hand and pulled her out of the bathroom to the bedroom. Putting one hand on her belly, he gently pushed until she sank down onto the mattress. He crouched down and took her foot in his hand, pulling on a sock.

  “I’m trying to save you, and you aren’t helping.” Soleil was feeling a little desperate.

  “Save me from who? From what? I was sober, Soleil. I want you to be my wife. Do you even know what you are?”

  She shook her head.

  “A fuckin’ miracle, that’s what you are,” he said and pulled on her boot.

  It wasn’t easy. She had to push her foot into it, and she did so without looking at him. He made her want to cry. She was no one’s miracle. More like their nightmare.

  “I’m not, you know. There’s things that could get you hurt.” There it was. The truth. She had to keep him safe because he didn’t seem to comprehend, she came with too much baggage. “You have a sister. Alena. She needs to be safe. Your brother.” She waved toward the window. “All the people you care about. And that’s not even getting into the fact that we have no idea if we’re even compatible.”

  He pulled up her other sock and rubbed over her calf before reaching for the boot. “I think we more than proved that we’re compatible, princess. As for the trouble you bring, the baggage, if you mean that pussy Winston, he’ll find it won’t be so easy to take on a club, if he’s so inclin
ed. My guess, once you’re gone, he’ll disappear.”

  She shook her head. “He won’t, Ice. And he has friends, policemen, lawyers. Money behind him. He won’t stop.”

  Ice tilted his head to look at her, and the morning sun fell across his face like a spotlight. His eyes were as cold as their color, a complete glacier. He suddenly looked predatory. Dangerous even. Her sweet, easygoing Ice caused a shiver to go down her spine. That expression on his face should have been a red flag, but instead, it caused her blood to go hot and rush through her veins like a drug.

  “Let him come, then, Soleil. We’re out of here. The boys are ready. Even Alena’s ready. I’ve packed everything, including your dress. That thing needs to be put in a frame and hung on the wall.”

  She ignored the hand he held out to her. Someone had to be practical. He might think he could handle Winston and his friends, but the members of Ice’s club would be considered outlaws. Winston could harass them—although would he really think she was with a motorcycle club? Even if he found out about their marriage, how would he know where to find Ice? Unless he found out about their marriage and tracked them through the marriage certificate. The final copy would be mailed to Ice’s address. She just couldn’t do that to him.

  She walked to the window and stared out. Below them was the long row of bikes, with men either sitting on them or talking together close to them. She spotted Alena with her platinum hair on her own bike. Heads turned toward the center of the parking lot. A cop car had driven in with another vehicle behind it.

  Her heart stopped when Winston jumped out on the passenger side and followed the policeman to the office. One by one the bikes started up, their pipes roaring. Heart pounding, she turned to Ice. Her mouth was dry. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach all over again. She knew the color had drained from her face.