by Jessica Ames
“We all are.”
I hate that they are. I wish I could assure them I’ll be okay, but honestly, I’m not sure if I will. Everything feels so Topsy turvy, so upside down. I don’t know how to get back to what I had before… him. I don’t know how to live with this constant itch against my skin, the feeling that his hands are still on me, holding me down, touching what he never had a right to.
I draw my legs up and hug them as I rock slightly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, forcing me to move further towards the middle of the mattress. When he swings him legs up, my eyes flare. What the hell is he doing?
“I ain’t leaving you when you’re like this.”
I’m hanging on by a thread, but I am hanging on. If he pushes me too hard, that thread will snap and I have no idea what will happen if that occurs. I’ve never dealt with what happened to me, just buried it deeply in my vaults and hoped I could pretend it never happened. Now, he’s poking at all my defences, and I’m not sure how long they will stay in place—if I can even keep them in place.
“Stop it,” I warn, a lone tear careening down my face.
“Ain’t going to stop. Ain’t leaving you to face this shit—whatever the fuck it is.”
He pulls me against his chest and I should push him away, but I go willingly. I need him right now. I need someone to hold me and tell me things will be okay. His thick arms wrap around me, pulling me closer.
I stiffen for a moment before I melt against his hold, needing to be wanted, even if it’s only for a moment.
He brushes my hair off my face, his fingers gentle.
“Don’t know what the fuck happened to you, ain’t going to force you to tell me, though I hope you’ll explain it at some point, but I want you to know ain’t nothing else going to touch you, ever, baby. You’re safe now.”
Tears roll down my cheeks at his soft words, my composure finally starting to break. I don’t miss the way my stomach flips at the endearment either. I feel something for Daimon, something more than the fact he’s my brother’s friend. In his arms I feel safe, secure. He makes me feel clean in a way I’ve never felt. He makes me feel like I could be worth something more than I believe.
And that scares me more than I want to admit.
9
Daimon
I wake with Briella draped over my chest, her fingers digging into my side, as if she can hold me in place by force. I don’t move, not wanting to wake her. I get the impression she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep for a while. I never noticed the black smudges beneath her eyes until tonight, when I saw her makeup-free face. She’s obviously become adept at hiding the evidence of her suffering.
I study the top of her dark head, my gut twisting savagely.
What the fuck happened to you, Brie?
I wish she’d open up and tell me what she’s dealing with. Every scenario I come up with is more horrific than the last. The shit running through my brain is terrifying. If someone hurt her, I’ll make them pay. Slowly. I’ll gut anyone who has touched a hair on her beautiful head, but she’s a closed book to me. I can’t get through those defences she’s built up. She has me trying to scale twenty foot high walls without a ladder.
I lie there for as long as I can, just listening to her steady breaths, feeling calm wash over me. This shouldn’t feel as right as it does. The rational part of my brain screams that being in bed with a brother’s little sister, even if I’m still fully dressed is a sin I might not be absolved from, but I can’t stop the feelings from crowding me. She feels so perfect tucked up against me and I fucking like it. That thought makes me feel like I’m crawling in dirt. I shouldn’t like being in bed with a nineteen-year-old.
I ignore that voice
Eventually, the need to piss forces me from the bed. I carefully extract myself from her hold and climb out from under the covers. I watch as she snuggles back into the blankets, her dark lashes stark against the paleness of her skin. My stomach sinks like there’s a rock in my gut. I want to protect her from everything and I have no idea where this need has come from, but it’s like it has been embedded in me, flowing through my veins. I’ve never felt protective of anyone before, other than my mother. My father would smack us both around when I was a kid. I’d try to defend her, but I was too small to stand up to a grown man. Until I wasn’t. I beat the shit out of him that night. He never laid a hand on either of us again after that. Protecting the people I love is the most important thing to me, so I need to find out what I need to protect Briella from before I lose my fucking mind.
I head to the small bathroom down the hallway and take a piss. When I’m done, I wash my hands before locating some mouthwash under the sink, which I swill around my mouth, spitting into the sink when I’m finished.
When I step out of the bathroom, I hear a faint sound coming from the living room. My gaze slides to the bedroom door, where I left Brie sleeping, before it moves back. I move down to the hallway.
Feet curled under her arse, I find Layla sitting on the sofa. Her eyes meet mine as I step into the room and I see suspicion and fire flickering there.
“Where’s Brie?” she demands, her words snarling out of her in a way that makes my shoulders tense instantly. She comes to her feet, staring past me as if trying to catch a glimpse of Briella.
“Still in bed,” I tell her, resisting the urge to snap my words out. I step into the room like I own the space, my large frame sucking all the air out of it. Layla steps back and looks a little frightened of me, which I don’t understand.
I ignore her reaction and say, “She looked like she could use the rest.”
Her eyes soften. “Yeah I think she probably could. Last night happens a lot.” She fiddles absently with the hem of her tee, refusing to meet my gaze.
I move over to the other end of the sofa and take a seat, my thighs parted, my hands clasped together between my legs. I don’t speak for a long moment, not sure what to say, but I know this bitch is hiding the truth.
“She needs help, not protecting. She’s spiralling,” is what I start with.
Layla’s mouth pulls into a tight line and the flames in her eyes flare to life once more. “If you’re expecting me to spill what’s going on to one of your club, you’re way off base. I won’t break her trust like that.” The way she spits the words pisses me off. I haven’t done shit to this woman, yet she’s acting like I’m the enemy. I just want what’s best for Briella.
Under normal circumstances, I might have ripped her fucking head off for such disrespect, but she’s the only thing keeping Briella together, so I temper my reaction.
“Ain’t asking for you to break shit, but I’m fucking worried about her.” I grit my teeth.
I watch her jaw loosen and see the concern shining in her eyes. “That makes two of us. Was she okay last night?”
I shift my shoulders, not sure how to answer that. “She slept, eventually.”
I suspect that was only because I was there. I’m not convinced she would have been as restful if she’d been on her own, but staying every night isn’t a plan to fix this shit. Levi will already tear my bollocks off for staying tonight.
“I’m not sure what game you’re playing here,” Layla says, “but she’s been through enough.” She bites her lip as if she wants to say more. I wish she would spill whatever the fuck she’s hiding, but I know she won’t betray Briella’s trust.
“Ain’t planning on adding to that hurt, Layla.” And that’s the god’s honest truth. I’m not, but without knowing what pain she’s got in her past, it’s going to be tricky to navigate.
The sound of the bedroom door opening draws my attention. I glance at Layla.
“Ain’t protecting her by keeping her secrets.”
Layla opens her mouth to reply, but shuts it as Briella steps into the room. She looks fucking beautiful. Her dark hair is rumpled from sleep, and my eyes gravitate to the tiny sleep shorts and camisole she’s wearing. Fuck me, did she sleep next to
me all night looking like that?
She stops as she clocks eyes with me, hers flaring.
“You’re still here,” she says and my lips lift at the corners.
“Don’t sound too thrilled by the fact.”
Her cheeks stain a pretty pink that makes my dick twitch and my balls feel heavy.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I didn’t think you’d stay.”
The vulnerability in her words gores me. She’s never had anyone to rely on, apart from her brother. Did she really think I’d leave her after last night?
“Get dressed. I’m taking you for breakfast.”
She doesn’t move, shifting on her feet instead. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I don’t. Staying over, breakfast… it’s a prelude to something more, something neither of us is ready for, but I’m not leaving until I make sure she’s good. More than that, I don’t want to leave. I’m not ready to take a step back yet. My need to be with her is a persistent itch I can’t ignore. My eyes shift to her pouty mouth and itch with the need to take it. To claim it and make her mine.
Fuck… that thought scares the shit out of me. I shouldn’t be thinking anything like that.
“Get dressed,” I repeat, ignoring the slight stumble in my words. I’m unsettled. She unsettles me.
That thought dissipates as her eyes roll. “Bossy.”
I can’t help but grin. I am a demanding arsehole, but part of me doesn’t care. She needs to open up to someone who can make this shit right. Layla can’t do that, but I sure as fuck can, and I will.
Briella moves back towards the bedroom and I watch her go before I feel the weight of Layla’s gaze on me. I turn to her.
“What?” I demand, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Just remember what I said.”
“Ain’t going to force her to tell me shit. She wants to tell me, I’ll listen. She doesn’t, I won’t push it, but she needs to work through whatever the hell is going on, and she needs to know she’s got people here who want to help her with that. Club’ll fight for her. She’s one of ours, but we can only fight if we know what demons we’re facing.”
Layla scoffs at my words. “Yeah, ‘cause that worked out so well last time,” she sneers under her breath as she glares at me.
Her words are like a bucket of water over my head.
What the fuck happened?
10
Briella
Breakfast with Daimon isn’t a good idea. Logically, I know this, but my heart doesn’t give a crap about logic. The thought of spending more time with him makes me feel a little giddy. I don’t know why but he makes all the chaos in my life fade to background noise when I’m with him. I no longer feel unclean, but whole and worthy, but he also scares me. He’s a dangerous man, and he could hurt me if he chose to. His strength could overpower me easily. I know because it has happened before. I put my trust in the wrong person and paid the price for it.
Daimon is different from him, though. He calms my inner demons, settles them long enough that I can take an unhindered breath. It’s as if he scares them down into submission, his strength surrounding me like a forcefield. For the first time in a long time, I slept last night. His scent, all raw and male, warmed me like a blanket. He was my own personal dreamcatcher. I didn’t have any more nightmares. That hasn’t happened for so long, I forgot what it’s like not to wake with gritty eyes and a headache.
Sleeping wrapped in Daimon brought a calm I didn’t know I was missing. I felt safe. I don’t want to lose that, but I know he’ll leave after we’ve eaten and that honestly scares the shit out of me. I’ve always found it hard to be around the Sons, seeing his face whenever I am or just seeing him. It’s created a rift between me and Levi. I stopped going to the clubhouse as much, I stopped going to the monthly club cookouts. Levi sees it as a slight against what he considers our family. I see it as the only way I can survive. There are times I can’t avoid being there, but I do my best to stay away. The one thing I can’t avoid is the old ladies. They won’t let me push them away, though I’ve tried.
But things feel… different… with Daimon. It’s not fear or dirty I feel in his presence, but something else.
Whole.
I try not to dwell on my thoughts as I step out into the living room. I don’t want to go there today, or any other day in fact. Thinking of the past shreds what little sanity I have left. I hate that he still has that hold on me, as if he never let me escape.
My thoughts scatter as I feel Daimon’s eyes on me, heated and heavy. I didn’t want to make it look like I tried too hard, but I’m dressed in my best skinny jeans with a vest top beneath my leather jacket. I rimmed my eyes in dark eyeliner in the hope it would detract from the bags under them, but also because I know I look good with dark eyes.
His gaze travels up my body, and I want to squirm under his scrutiny. He said we were family, but there’s nothing familial in how he’s looking at me right now. He’s staring at me like I’m a feast he wants to devour. I hold still, letting him have his fill. Heat pools in my belly and my mouth dries out at the way he’s looking at me. My breath catches as my heart beats furiously against my ribs, as if trying to escape. That look, it’s addictive, like a shot of booze straight to my veins. I can feel Layla’s disapproving stare, but not even she can detract from the butterflies flapping against my belly.
Finally, Daimon rubs his thumb over his bottom lip and meets my eyes. I don’t know if he realises how sexy that movement is, nor if he realises the look he’s giving me is so molten it makes his eyes darken, like deep pools of desire.
“Perfection,” he mutters under his breath, and my good mood evaporates. I’m far from perfection. If he knew the truth he wouldn’t be looking at me like this.
I dip my head, no longer able to meet his gaze as shame washes over my skin, leaving filthy stickiness behind. He crosses the space between us and lifts my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. I see the confusion and a hint of anger in his eyes, but when he speaks his voice is soft.
“Hey, where’d you go then?”
“Nowhere.”
“Looked like somewhere to me,” he says quietly.
I force a smile. I feel like I’m under a microscope. I feel like this man can pull all my secrets, all my thoughts out of my head and that terrifies me. No one can ever know what that bastard did to me. I won’t be a victim. I won’t let him win.
He already has, a voice whispers in the back of my mind, making me grit my teeth.
“I’m starving,” I lie. My stomach is churning and I doubt I could eat if I tried.
He stares at me for a moment, and I can see the dismay in his eyes. He says he wants me to spill my secrets, to open up to him, but the truth is if he knew he would look at me differently—everyone will and I can’t stand the thought. I already saw the look in Levi’s eyes when he rescued me from our father and his fists. He’s treated me as if I’m glass ever since. I know he’s told the brothers what happened—there’s no secrets in that club, apart from my secret, one so dark it would tear them apart. Who would they turn on if they found out the truth? Would Levi be made to choose? How could I rip him away from the only family he’s ever had? No, it’s better to hold all my secrets close.
Daimon scrubs a hand over his face and I think he might push the issue, but he doesn’t. He is trying to give me space to work through my shit, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before his patience wears out. I don’t think there’s enough space in the world to work through being violated by someone you trusted. There are no words to make it right.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Relief floods me when he drops it, followed by something ugly that sits in my gut.
I’m not a person who lies, but this is what that bastard has made me into. A liar. Lying to Daimon doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel like I’m crawling in the filth of my past and I hate it.
I risk a glance at Layla as he heads for the doo
r and I don’t miss the disapproval in her expression.
“What are you doing?” she hisses as soon as he disappears from the room.
Bikers are not her favourite people and for good reason.
“It’s just breakfast.”
“I don’t like this. He could be like—”
I hold my hand up, stopping her.
“Daimon is nothing like him,” I growl, before my shoulders fall.
I have no idea why I’m defending Daimon over my best friend. Layla is right to be worried. I thought I would be safe before, but I wasn't. The only saving grace is that I haven’t seen him for weeks. The longer he’s away, the stronger I start to feel, though I know the moment I see him again that will unravel.
I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell her, before I follow Daimon out of the flat.
Despite my own misgivings, my stomach tingles with anticipation as I see him waiting by a huge motorcycle parked up near the front door. The early morning means the roads beyond the car park are already starting to congest as the morning commute gets underway, but I block the noise of the traffic out and focus on the beauty in front of me.
“We’re taking your bike?” I question, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.
I move to the bike, gently skimming my hand over it as my heart flips. I’ve been on the back of Levi’s bike more times than I can count over the years, but he’s my brother. The thought of getting on behind Daimon makes my mouth dry. My time around these men has taught me a few things, like they don’t put just anyone on the backs of their bikes. This means something, although I’m not sure what.
Daimon eyes me and I see the curiosity in his gaze. “You like riding?”
My lips curve up at the corners. Riding is the only time I’ve really felt alive. There’s something freeing about being on the back of a bike.
“I’ve only ever been behind my brother, but yes, I love it. I want to get my own wheels, though I don’t think Levi would approve.”