I’ve been putting away my clothes since last night we just hit the hay, but I keep feeling like such a jerk for accusing him of being a liar. For a minute I got pissed because he could’ve just told me right then and there about Sydney being a kid, but I’m sure he didn’t because he wanted to teach me a lesson. Hell, I can’t say I blame him.
I put away the one dress Zane bought me at that strip mall in Vegas and jump in the shower really quick. I’m in and out within ten minutes and slide on a cobalt blue rimmed tank top and pair of black cotton shorts. Even if I don’t want to, I really need to apologize. It’s the right thing to do.
Sucking in a deep breath I exit the bedroom and head down the stairs. The clock on the wall reads a little past six and we had dinner early, around four-thirty.
“Can I go to my room and go play with my tablet?” I hear Sydney ask as I come around the corner. Zane set up Ashley’s old bedroom for her and got her a few new things, the tablet being one of them.
“Is your homework done?” Zane asks, and I want to laugh. He sounds so unsure about if she’s going to take him seriously.
“Of course, it is. I do it first thing when I get off the bus because it’s easier for me to remember what I learned in school that day.” Sydney shoots back.
“Alright . . . one hour, then you get your butt to bed.”
“Okay!” Sydney squeals in delight, runs around the corner and collides straight into me.
“Whoa there,” I laugh, placing my arms on her shoulders. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry Octavia!” She shoots right past me, runs up the stairs and the sound of a door shutting tells me she’s gotten to her room.
As I turn around the corner Zane’s expression shifts from a bright smile to something stoic. “I came down here to apologize, for insinuating.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, “Do me a favor and don’t ever do that again. You could’ve just asked who she was, but you didn’t. Ya had to get all emotional and lose your shit on me.”
Tightness forms in my throat. I know it’s my anxiety making me all nervous, wanting me to shrivel up and get upset. But, Zane isn’t wrong. I reacted out of haste versus asking him. If there’s any tension between us now, it’s on me not him. “You’re right. I’m sorry I acted like that. I’ll be honest, okay? I’m not used to this. I’m not used to a club like yours, where the guys don’t fuck the clubwhores whenever they want to. You know what my mother was, and all of my brothers and sisters’ moms except Troy’s, right?”
Zane nods, “I do. They were all clubwhores at one point in time.”
“Right. I’m only used to one thing— men who aren’t faithful.”
Zane draws his brows together and tilts his head. “That guy, he wasn’t faithful to you?”
“No, he was. Or at least I think he was. I’m just trying to explain I don’t know anything else, but I’m going to adapt and soon I’ll understand the way your club runs too.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Lemme ask you somethin’ though,” Zane leans down and puts his forearms on the island. “Why didn’t he fight for you? I mean, I can’t wrap my head around that. You two were in a relationship for a bit and he just let you go?”
Wow. It didn’t hurt as badly as it does right now. “Yeah.”
“Shit, that’s fucked up.”
Even now, I find myself wanting to defend him. “The club is his life, so he’d do whatever he needed to ensure everyone there would be safe. The alliance with your club gives the Raiders that position.”
“Did you rehearse that?”
“Excuse me?” I snarl.
He shrugs his shoulders and goes back to standing. “It sounds like you’ve had to tell yourself that, to convince yourself and live with it.”
I open my mouth, fully intending to light his ass on fire, but I realize Zane isn’t wrong. I have been doing this. I’ve been reminding myself of Inc’s duty to the club, how he needed to do what was best for them. But it’s all bullshit. He could’ve chosen to act differently, but he didn’t. Instead he stood back and let me be taken away from him. He stood off to the side and watched as I walked out of the club. He didn’t come running, storm out the doors to tell Zane I was his woman. He just . . . didn’t do a damn thing.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Now I’m bein’ the asshole. I just don’t like how he cast you to the side like you didn’t matter. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve fought for you. In my eyes, you just don’t let the people you care about go like that. You fight for what matters to you, no matter what’s going on.”
I glance over to the kitchen counters, pulling myself away from having to look into his eyes. His words strike me deep in my core. We must be silent for a couple minutes before I hear his combat boots hitting against the floor, and when I look up he’s right in front of me. His chest is practically pressing against mine. He’s looking at me with compassion, grazes his thumb against my cheek and forces me to look at him directly in the eyes. “Listen, I’m not a great man, Octavia. But I’d like to believe I’m a good one. I fuck up. Hell, I make mistakes and sometimes I misspeak. I lash out when I’m pissed but I love hard and defend those I care about without thinking twice. I’m not promising you’ll have the life you imagined here, because I doubt I’m the type of man you ever wanted.”
Now I’m the one furrowing my brows. Zane might not realize the way he just put himself down, but I don’t like it. He may have been brash a few times, but he hasn’t shown me in one instance that he can be an ass. He’s only been kind, and I’m not naïve. I know how badly this could’ve gone. I could’ve been paired with a man who thought it was fun to rape me and pass me around between brothers. I was lucky to end up here with the Reapers— with him.
“What is that supposed to mean, Zane?” I ask, pursing my lips.
He pulls his hand away from my cheek and I grab it with my own, clasping my hands around his, showing him this support. He pulls his face away, purposefully not looking at me. I wonder why his body language is like this, and then it hits me. He’s ashamed. In a way, Zane’s in the closet. To the outside everyone must believe he’s only interested in women, but only a chosen few must know about his true desires. “I’m not a man who can be satisfied with one partner, Cinnamon. I need more than one. I crave more than just a wo—” Zane closes his mouth, stopping mid-sentence.
“Do you think I hold it against you? That I think it’s something to do with me?” I question. His sexual preference doesn’t make me feel less of a woman, or insecure in any manner. I’m sure another woman might feel like that . . . but he was truthful with me. He gave me the impression of what he prefers. It has nothing to do with me. Zane doesn’t answer, so I continue. “Zane, I know your sexual preference has nothing to do with me. I don’t hold it against you. You . . . you could’ve lied to me and you didn’t. You were honest. I want you to be happy, the same way you want me to be happy.”
“Octavia. You . . . you do realize you won’t ever have a normal relationship with me, right?”
Now I’m the one forcing him to look at me. “I do, and I’m okay with that. I accept it. I don’t think you should ever have to hide who you are from your partner, and given we’re going to be married soon . . . I don’t think either of us should be lying.”
“Do you really mean that. The part about you accepting it and being okay with it?” He asks lowly. I can tell the weight our conversation is having on him.
“No lies. Remember? Cross your sword with whoever you want. It won’t effect me.”
“Jesus,” He says, shifting his eyes from mine to my lips.
“What?”
“I think I’ve hit the lottery with you, Cinnamon, and damn I wanna cash in right now.” Zane crushes my lips with his, hoists me up on the counter while his hands skim across my body.
Everything hits me all at once. Every thought about how I’d hate this man, not wanting to be in the same room as him, let alone this close to his body. While my heart still hurts from Inc jus
t throwing in the towel, I really believe Zane will not only cherish me but he won’t let me go. This is the man I’m going to marry, someone who I’d envisioned would’ve been my worst nightmare. A monster, a rancid beast. But no, he’s kind with every act he takes. Within a few days I’ve seen the way he puts his heart into everything he does, whether it’s as a leader, brother, or friend.
I pull my lips from his, “Zane . . . promise me one thing.”
“What is it?” He asks while his right hand goes down my thigh, toying with the edge of my shorts
“Don’t hurt me like he did, and if you ever want to give up on us, talk to me about it. I . . . I couldn’t go through that again.”
His expression shifts to something sullen. “Octavia, I wouldn’t dream of hurting you the way he did. But I can promise you I won’t ever make the same mistake he did.”
He brings his lips back to mine before I can respond. His arms pull me closer to his body, forcing my legs around his torso. Our lips crash together like two meeting oceans, effortlessly and full of power. Our tongues collide like some of the strongest storms.
I glide my hand back into his hair and entangle my fingers there, tugging just a bit. He either likes it or doesn’t, ‘cause I feel the way he’s rushing to get his jeans undone. I tug the fabric of my cotton shorts to the side, not wanting to waste time.
Zane grabs the back of my scalp and yanks as he enters me, tearing his lips from mine and bites down onto my neck. I moan but keep it low since there is a child in the house. The last thing we need is for her to be rushing down the stairs from hearing what we’re doing and catch us.
He rams his dick inside me while caressing my breasts through my shirt. Slowly teasing and kneading at them. I lift my hips, meeting his movements and bite my bottom lip while he glides against my g-spot, knowing the perfect way to please me.
Zane bears down, causing me to stop lifting my hips for him. Obviously, he prefers to be the one in charge. I have absolutely no problem with that, pulling his body closer to mine. The way he nestles himself into me, plunging with the fullest force makes me want to scream, but I can’t. Instead, I gnaw onto his skin at the nape of his neck. It’s the only thing keeping me from crying out.
He growls in pleasure, even as I dig my nails into his back.
I’ve been fucked plenty of times, but I haven’t been fucked like this. It’s hot, heavy, and fast. Every time I had sex with Inc it was all about love making, less about primal need. With Zane, it’s the opposite. But, it’s everything I need.
Chapter Nineteen
About me: I can be mean as fuck, sweet as candy, cold as ice, evil as hell, or loyal like a soldier. It all depends on you.
~ Fuckology
Octavia
“Octavia, you got some packages!” Zane hollers from downstairs. I put down the new cell Zane just got me and hook it back up to the charger, head down the stairs and see what has to be at least ten boxes. Some of them are small, while others are bigger.
“What in the world?” I question, going up to them. On the side of one it says to open that one first, so I do. At the top of it there’s a hand-written letter on old notebook paper. I unfold it and open it up.
Octavia,
I know you won’t ever understand why I supported Dad in all this, and I’ve accepted that. One day I will hope you forgive me. Chains told me you left a lot of your shit at home. Don’t know why you did it, but I figured you might enjoy some new stuff for your new life.
Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not tryin’ to buy your forgiveness or any of that. This is just a peace offering. One that I hope you’ll end up taking.
I hope you’re staying safe, and sorry about the debit card incident, which I’m sure you know about by now. It was all Dad, not me. He said he was the one putting money in your personal account so he shut it down. I knew you had your business so, figured you would be okay. Plus, Zane wouldn’t let you starve or anything.
Talk soon,
Xander
I had a feeling our father was the culprit of my bank situation. I should’ve known better than to put him on it. At least Xander might’ve left it alone. Digging my hands in the box I pull out the thick cardboard paper type of material and immediately see a case from Canon. There’s more of this stuff on the side, so I yank it out and see the Canon logo on more products. Immediately I can tell one is protecting a flash, while the other looks like it could be an additional lens. Jesus. I don’t even want to know how much he spent on this.
Being a photographer surely isn’t cheap. Whether it’s the materials I need to actually get a shoot done, editing software, or props. It adds up very quickly.
Zane’s already started on the other boxes and I weave my way through them. Most of it is photography equipment of some sort, while a couple of the other boxes are some of my clothes. Thank goodness. I didn’t want to keep wearing the same four outfits over and over again. It’s been getting so old.
“This is photography stuff, right?” Zane asks, sounding a bit confused. Now I realize I never told him about my business.
“Yeah, it is. I own a company, a photography company website sort of thing.” I blab out, acting like it’s not a big deal. It is a big deal, though. Big enough of a deal that I received a potential investment offer. One that I’m considering accepting because it could bring so much more revenue in for not only my company, but my girls.
“Shit, why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
I shrug, “I don’t know. I think I was so absorbed on getting to know you the past few days. I really didn’t think about bringing up my job.”
“Well, not to be rude or anything, but shouldn’t you have? You’ll wanna do it up here too, right?”
Actually, I hadn’t thought about that side of things yet. “Yeah, I’d like to.”
“Perfect, so tell me about this shit.” He seems so eager to learn whatever he can about me at any given moment. It’s been a little over two weeks since I’ve been here. Meanwhile, Zane has been spending a lot of time with Sydney and I. I mean so much so that I wonder if he’s faking being the Prez of an MC. He hasn’t gotten called out of the house once.
“The company I own is called Victorious Vixens. It’s kind of like Suicide Girls in a way, but these women post about their stories too. For example, some of them have gotten out of abusive relationships where their abuser said they wouldn’t make anything, that no one would even give them a chance . . . and they’re a virtual vixen for me.”
“So, they’re nude models?” Zane cocks a brow, smirking like the dog he is.
“Yes, and no. There’s a certain element of artistic expression I like to see. For example, it’s gorgeous to see a naked woman in a doorway with the sunset behind her, focused in on every crevasse of her body. But, have you thought of the impact it would bring if it was her naked silhouette, to imagine what those crevasses look like?”
“Interesting,” Zane mutters, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “And you make money for this?”
“Yep, through advertising and memberships. I actually have an investment offer from a well-known businessman. A man who already has his own line of Vixens established.”
“Oh?”
“His name is King Rhodes. Actually, I’m sure that isn’t his legal name, but it’s the name everyone knows him by. He owns a strip club in Las Vegas called Vixen’s. It’s one of the most prestigious strip clubs in the world. All the women who work there are alternative, pin-up style. They . . . appeal to a very specific style of patron. He believes that by combining our two brands it could be mutually beneficial. We could cross promote and do very well.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think he’s wrong. I’ve had the offer on the table since before I left. Since I have a phone now, I’m planning to send him an email later and give him my formal acceptance. I really think combining the vixens could be smart.”
“Yeah, sounds like it. Question for you.”
“Shoot,” I reply.
“How do you find your vixens?”
“Instagram. Tumblr. Really anywhere. Mostly the internet.”
Zane nods his head a couple times while he stares blankly out the window. He only does this when he’s using that brain and debating something. “Spit it out, will you?” I grumble, pulling some of my equipment out onto our living room floor.
“You know I’m building a home for clubwhores. I think we have enough room for eight, but I’d only want to bring on six. You just said to me some of them have stories, comin’ out of abusive relationships and whatnot. You could offer them housing for working for you, and in return they could—”
“No.” I spit out, making my stance clear. “These girls aren’t whores. They’re victims.”
“Victims can like sex too you know,” Zane defends his idea, and now I’m standing here crossing my arms, wondering if he’s lost his mind.
“I don’t want to offer women a place to stay and then basically tell them they’re sex workers.” I grumble, sticking up for myself.
“They aren’t sex workers. Damn. Cinnamon, you know what I’m getting at. Please don’t twist my words or any of that shit. How about you give them the option to live here once their place is built and if they wanna come on as a clubwhore, they can. The choice is theirs. You know?”
“I don’t want to make them feel pressured,” I explain.
“Babe, they won’t, and if anyone does pressure them, I’ll eighty-six their asses.”
“Fine,” I mumble, knowing if I don’t give in, he’ll just irritate me until I do. What’s the worst that can happen, right?
Chapter Twenty
“You will never always be motivated, so you must learn to always be disciplined.”
Mayhem: A Reapers MC Boxset Page 24