by KL Donn
I reach her door, turning the handle as little whimpers echo through the air. Opening the door, I watch as she fights her invisible demons, trapped in her nightmare. Letting out a small growl, I walk toward the bed, watching as her body tosses back and forth, anguish written across each of her features. I go against everything I should do, and instead of calling for Callie and walking away, I close the door, bathing us both in darkness.
I don’t think, I just let instinct take over. I lay next to her, on top of the blankets, and her whimpering stops, as if my presence is enough to keep the nightmares away. She snuggles in closer to me, placing her soft hand on my chest, a little sigh escaping her pink lips. I might not be able to claim her as mine, but in the darkness, I can watch her, protect her.
I stroke her hair, nuzzling into her. “Mi Bello ángel,” I whisper into the darkness.
She is my beautiful angel, and she always will be.
7
Harla
Staring at the casket as it lowers to the ground, a lone tear slowly falls down my face. I leave it, not wanting to draw attention to it. Dad and West are flanking me, but I don't think I've ever felt this alone before. I'm surrounded by men and yet I feel as though no one is here. They don't understand what I'm going through. I'm so angry and hurt, and I'm tired. I'm angry at Dad because I hate that he and Gigi kept this life from me, kept West from me. I'm hurt because Gigi's gone. I'm never going to see her again. I don't think this hurt will ever disappear. It's as though someone has taken a knife and nicked a piece of my heart.
It's been three days since they went to get Gigi. I know they found something while they were there. They've been having a lot of meetings, or as they call it, 'church.' Callie told me not to worry about it, but I do. I want to know what is happening. When I asked Dad, he ignored me, so I've not asked since, nor have I really spoken to him. I've been keeping myself to myself, only really talking to Callie and the ol' ladies if they're around.
Saint hasn't been the same with me since that day. He doesn't talk, and he acts as though I'm invisible. Yet at night he climbs into bed with me and holds me. I'm confused because I've never done this before, and I have no idea if it's normal, but I'm guessing it's not. I hate that I’m his only at night, it’s as though I’m not good enough to be his once morning hits. It hurts like hell, but I can’t say no.
I want to be around him. When I am, I'm not afraid of anything, but he makes my head spin with the way he acts and I'm too tired to be playing those stupid games.
Callie asked me what my plans are, and I have no idea. Since she told me my car is badly damaged and in the compound’s garage, I'm leaning toward fixing it up and taking to the open road, seeing where it'll lead me. I have nothing holding me here, not anymore. Living with Dad is weird. He has no idea what to do with me, and the truth is, all he has to do is treat me like a human being. Yet, he's acting as though I'm not around. It must be something in the water. West, on the other hand, has been trying. He'll come and sit with me and talk. It's weird. I feel as though I remember him, that there's a memory at the back of my mind but I can't quite grasp it. He’s familiar to me and I like it. If I were to leave, I think he'd be upset. But right now, I don't think I'll be able to stay. I feel as though I'm an outsider, one that isn't wanted.
Once Gigi's casket is lowered, I throw a rose into the hole. Dad follows suit, as does West. Once we're done, the priest says something to Dad and I turn and walk away, no longer wanting to be around here. Seeing her in the ground makes me want to sob. I fight it, not wanting to break here. Hell, if Gigi knew I was going to cry, she'd go crazy. I'm stronger than that; something she always told me. I'm my father's daughter. I have an inner strength only very few possess. I never truly understood what it meant—I still don't—but when I think of that saying, it's her voice I hear.
"We ride," Dad says, and the men move as one toward their bikes. I follow Dad to his bike and wait for him to climb on. Once he has, I climb on the back and hold onto him for dear life. Today was the first time I'd been on a bike and it was an experience to say the least. I now know why they love riding their bikes. Having the wind blow through you, it clears your head, makes you forget everything just for a little while.
Once we're back at the compound, Dad and the men head for the bar. I go to my room and get changed, taking off this black dress Callie let me wear and pulling on my overalls. West bought them for me. I told him the other day that I loved fixing cars, that it was something that helped me focus. He went and purchased a pair of overalls for me so that I could fix my car.
Making my way into the garage, I'm glad for the reprieve. Usually, if I'm here, West is too. Today, though, I want to be alone. I want to let the pain wash through me as I work on fixing Pop's car. I switch the stereo on and turn it up, letting the music drown out the sound of everything else.
The car isn't as bad as I first thought when I saw it. I honestly believed it would take me a long time to fix, but it won't. A couple of weeks tops. West has ordered me a new bumper as this one is completely ruined. It also needs a new radiator and a new carburetor. Thankfully, they're easy to get. West had asked if he could help me out, and I felt bad when I said no. This is something I've worked hard on. I appreciated the offer, but it's something I want to do alone. He didn't look mad, just a little disappointed.
‘Life in the fast lane’ by The Eagles plays, and I hum along to the tune. It's a song Gigi would have playing in the house, something I started off hating and now love to hear. Tears burn my eyes as I listen to it. Gigi used to dance in the kitchen to it as she'd cook. I loved how much she loved rock music. She told me it was who she was, that it was burned in her soul, in Pop's soul. Rock music was all Gigi listened to. She'd tell me that listening to Rap and RnB made her ears bleed.
Unable to hold in the tears any longer, I pull myself out from under the car. As soon as I kneel on the floor, the tears flow freely, and my body begins to shake. God, I miss her. The tears turn into full on sobs, and I’m unable to catch my breath.
Arms go around me and I scream, my heart pounding faster than ever. Turning to look at the person who just scared me, I come face to face with Saint.
"How long have you been here? You almost gave me a heart attack." How the hell was he so quiet? How long was he here for?
He smirks and I roll my eyes.
"Is there something you need?"
He shakes his head. "Nope."
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugs. God, this man is impossible.
"Saint, I'd like to be alone," I say softly. "I'm tired and I just want to be alone." I give him a small smile, hoping he'll understand that I'm not being bitchy, rather I just don't have it in me to be polite.
He glares at me, his eyes full of darkness. I should be afraid but I'm not. That darkness calls to me. I want it to consume me. I stand up and he follows suit. I go to turn but his fingers dig into my chin as he tips my face so that I'm looking up at him.
"You've just buried the woman who raised you. You're not going to be alone. I'm going to stand right here." He raises his other hand and wipes away the remainder of my tears.
I place my hand on his chest, ready to push him away, but I can't.
"Saint," I whisper softly. He drills me with his gaze, and it's full of lust. My tongue sneaks out between my lips and coats the bottom one.
His head lowers until his lips are on mine. He releases my chin, and I miss his touch, but I gasp when his hand goes into my hair, his fingers tangling in it and pulling. He takes advantage of my open mouth as his tongue sweeps in. This kiss is everything I could have thought and so much more. It's hot, wet and consuming. He's doing exactly what I had imagined him to do: he's owning me with just one kiss.
His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to him until I'm pressed against his thick cock. I can’t hold back the little whimper that escapes me.
Ripping his face away from mine, I gasp for air. "Tell me," he growls.
"Please,
" I beg, my nipples pebbling, his face mere inches from mine, his breath hot against my face. "Saint," I plead.
He smirks as his hand moves from my hair and his fingers slowly make their way down from my neck, hot as they caress me, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. When he reaches my nipple, his fingers clamp around it, and he pulls.
"Ohhh," I moan, my back arching, thrusting my breasts closer to him.
His lips find my neck and he kisses me, his five o'clock shadow grazing my skin, slightly painful but not enough for me to tell him to stop. His teeth sink into my skin, and I know this is his way of marking me, of letting everyone know that I belong to him.
His fingers go to my overalls and he pulls them down, his gaze lingering on the wound at my shoulder. It’s scabbed over, the skin puckered and an ugly red color.
Once the overalls are around my ankles, his fingers skim my panties. I moan once again and he chuckles against my neck, the sound sending shivers throughout my body.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust.
I nod, unable to speak as his finger touches my pussy. "Saint..." I say, slightly unsure.
"Mmm," he replies—and then his finger goes inside of me.
I gasp at the feeling, but he doesn't stop. He moves quicker and harder. He’s finger fucking me and it feels amazing. Tingles form, and I know I'm not going to last much longer.
"Saint..." I need him to know, but before I can speak again, he does.
"Come," he demands, his teeth once again sinking into my neck, his fingers moving in and out of me. And I can't stop the orgasm building. "That's it," he says gruffly.
I come, his name on my lips as I do.
"Fucking beautiful," he says, his lips capturing mine, stealing my breath as they do.
“Saint—”
“Me asustas, mi ángel,” he tells me, and I gasp. It’s the second time he's told me that I scare him.
I want more, so much more with him.
“I want you, Saint,” I whisper. “Please take the pain away,” I beg, my breath hitching as I do. I run my fingers across his jaw, seeing little scars. “I want you to be my first.”
Saint freezes, then pushes away from me.
"Fuck!" he growls, his gaze raking over my body. He takes a step back like I’ve burned him, his whole body shaking.
"Get dressed," he demands, and turns away from me. “Hijo de puta madre.” I flinch at the word Motherfucker. I’ve messed things up.
Scrambling, I pull up my overalls and watch in horror as he leaves, not saying another word to me. Once the door closes behind him, I crumple to the floor and sob.
“Harla?” West says, coming into the garage.
I turn to face him, tears streaming down my face.
His eyes narrow in on my neck, and I know he’s seeing the mark of Saint’s teeth. He shakes his head in disgust. “Food’s ready.”
I give him a shaky smile. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”
He glares at me. “You need to eat.”
“I will, just not yet.” I turn and wipe the tears from my eyes, mad at myself for allowing Saint to hurt me. I was stupid, and that’s something I’m never going to be around him again.
“Harla…” West says, and I turn to face him, plastering on a fake smile. He takes a step toward me, his gaze on me, and when I don’t react, he moves closer, his arms going around me. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says softly, with so much sincerity that it’s my undoing, and everything over the past week hits me.
I grip him and cry. He stands with me in his arms, holding onto me, letting me release everything.
8
Saint
I watch as West takes her into his arms, the gentle way he places a kiss on her head. Her smell still fucking surrounds me, consuming me. So fucking sweet. Her words rattle around my head. “I want you, Saint”, “Please take the pain away”, “I want you to be my first.”
A fucking virgin.
Everything in me wanted to lay her bare on the damn hood and feast on her. I wanted to trace my lips over every inch of her body, learning every dip and curve, and mark it as mine. Knowing that I’m the only one to ever hear those whimpers, to feel her heat, drives me crazy. The mere thought turns my blood to molten lava. The beast in me wants to mark her, claim her, knowing she's his mate. Knowing I’m the first to touch her, to make her come apart as she rode my fingers, makes me want to claim her. But I can’t. Fuck! She’s pure and I can’t taint her. It’s not fair. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in this life, but I’m not going to ruin her.
Reaper and West were right. I have no fucking right touching her. She’s my very own lethal drug. All it took was one fucking taste and I’m addicted. I’m craving her already. I can still taste her on my lips.
Walking through the clubhouse, everyone takes a step back as I grab a bottle of whiskey. Unscrewing the lid, I bring it to my lips, taking a long pull, feeling the burn as it passes down my throat.
An hour passes before West walks in, his eyes pinned on me, dark and full of fury. He glances to the right and I tilt my head, my vision doubling as a body moves before me, long, dark hair covering her face like a veil.
“Mi dulce ángel,” I murmur.
She reaches out to me, placing her arms on my shoulders. I groan at her touch, my sweet angel. She leans in as I nuzzle her neck, inhaling deeply. My entire body tenses when the sweet smell of Harla doesn’t come. Instead, it’s the bitter, harsh stench of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. I shake my head and my vision comes back.
“What are you doing touching me?” I snarl at her, and the whole room quietens down as Diamond, the club whore, walks backwards like a crab trying to scramble away, her eyes wide with fear.
Before I can step out of the way, West is in my face. “Outside.”
I blink. In all the years I have known him, we've never butted heads. It isn’t unusual for brothers to fight, to let off steam, but West and I… never.
“You made her cry,” he whispers so only I can hear. I look toward Diamond, when he grabs my chin. “Not that fucking bitch. Harla,” he growls, showing me his teeth. He’s kept his voice low, which tells me he knows what fucking happened in that garage, but he’s still protecting me by not telling Reaper.
I nod and follow him outside, seeing the darkness settling on the desert that surrounds us, the only sound the murmurs from the brothers. Bikes line the driveway. The brothers’ gazes ping pong between us. West takes his top off and all their eyes widen. They form a circle around us.
West doesn’t hesitate. He comes straight at me, landing a punch on my jaw, sending a spray of blood across the ground. I click my neck and rub my jaw as he comes at me again. This time he lands a punch straight to the nose. Blood gushes as he lands a hard right on my cheek, splitting the skin, before he throws one on my eye. It instantly closes. It’s relentless, but I deserve it. The next one comes to my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. Putting my hands on my knees, I try and regain my breath. I’m gasping for oxygen.
“Come on, you bastard,” West growls, and I know he wants this. He’s pissed at Reaper, at Harla, at himself—and at me for hurting her. He needs an outlet, and I’m the catalyst, all that anger directed at me. I throw a punch but put nothing behind it. I manage to land a few shots, but nothing that’ll leave any marks. He comes at me again; right, left; right, right, left. My body aches with the force of each hit. Everyone knows I could take him, but I fucking deserve it, the pain.
I land on the floor with a boot to my gut, and he squats down in front of me. “That’s why I told you to stay away from her. This is the only warning you get. You make her cry again, I’ll fucking gut you. I’ll strip you of your colors before tying your ass to my bike and dragging you out of here.”
I jump up, my hands on his shoulders, and push him against the wall, his back hitting it with a loud crack. Glancing around, I realize we’re alone. He struggles against my grip, but I tighten it, moving closer so that we’re nose to
nose.
“I would kill myself before I hurt her.” My jaw tenses as I breathe deeply. “She’s a fucking virgin, and I wouldn’t fuck her. That’s why she’s hurt. Even with Reaper’s threat to take all this away, to take you away…” I shake my head. He’s my brother. “I would give it all up for her,” I growl, baring my teeth.
His eyes widen at my words. West knows more than anyone what all this means to me.
“You think I don’t fucking know that I’m not fucking good enough for her? A piece of shit like me has no right even looking at her. That shit you and your pop spat at me, I already fucking know.” I punch the side of my head. “I know I’m fucked up, that I’m no good. I’ll never be what she needs, but fuck...” I trail off because I’m out of words. Everything gets stuck in my throat. Emotion I've never felt crushes around me like the deadliest snake.
“Fuck.” West wipes his hand down his face. “Brother…”
I shake my head. I need to go. Walking to my bike, I throw my leg over her, kicking it to life. I glance back at the clubhouse, knowing I’ve got to get away. I need to go cold fucking turkey. I hear West curse as the dirt around me kicks up.
“Look after her?” I say, and he stares me down before nodding.
I peel out of here with no place in mind. Just me and the open road, crashing when I get tired.
Three days later and I’m in a cheap ass motel in Phoenix, Arizona. I’ve not left since I got here. I’m missing Harla like fuck.
I look down at my phone to see another message from West.
She ain’t coming out of her room.
I frown down at the message. It's the first time he's messaged about Harla. Every time my phone beeped, I jumped for it like a horny teenager, hoping he’d give me a scrap of information about her, anything to ease this feeling that's crawling in my stomach.