Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  He hits my shoulder, causing me to grit my teeth from the pain. “I’m going to get some fucking sleep. Church tonight.”

  I watch until he disappears into his room before walking into mine. As soon as I walk in, her smell surrounds me.

  “Saint?” Her voice is soft, filled with sleep.

  “Here, Angel.”

  Her head whips toward me, eyes widening when she sees I'm not in bed. Before I can blink, she's crashing into me, causing me to fall backwards. Pain travels through my ribs, but as soon as those soft hands touch my bare chest, everything else fades away.

  She looks up at me with those icy blue eyes, tears hanging on her lashes.

  “I was so worried about you,” she whispers, as if scared to speak any louder. I grab her face, knowing I should send her away and protect her from the shadows. Instead of moving away from her, I lean forward, and at the same time, she reaches up.

  Our lips connect, melding together. Fuck everything else, she’s fucking mine.

  A low growl escapes as I push her back. I watch her lip quiver as she nods, taking her own step backward. Just as she opens her mouth, I land my lips back on hers, walking us backwards. Her taste consumes me as I dominate her mouth. I know it will never be enough; every time is different… more.

  “Mi Bello ángel.” My beautiful angel, I whisper against her lips, making her gasp, her kiss matching mine. She may look like an angel but her kisses are full of sin.

  I sway on my feet as the room tilts. I grab my head, cursing. Her fingers curl around my arm.

  “Lie down. You’re meant to be resting,” she bitches, and I can’t help my lips twitching. “It's not funny, Saint. You were shot—twice, and there was so much blood.” Her voice grows soft as she hiccups. Opening my eyes, I see her face full of concern. Concern for a bastard like me.

  Sitting up, I reach my arms out for her. “Come here.”

  She shakes her head, making me raise my brow.

  “Angel, come here. I really don't want to get out of bed, but I will if you don't get your ass over here.”

  I can see the war in her eyes. She wants me to rest, but just like me, she can’t refuse. Her shoulders fall as she walks toward me. I grab her, pulling her onto my lap.

  “This is nothing, girl, just a part of this life. You need to get your head around that quickly. In this life, there’ll always be someone in the shadows waiting for their perfect time, especially against me. I’ve got a lot of enemies out there.”

  I feel her shudder in my arms as she turns toward me, her small hands capturing my face. She leans in, kissing me like it's the last time she will ever have the chance, as if time is running out. Her kiss is full of need, hungry, desperate. She pulls away, her lips swollen.

  “How do I make it better?” she whispers against my lips, accepting everything I said.

  I lean in, taking her lips, unable to stop myself. “Angel, we need to talk.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she puts a finger to my lips. “I’m going to talk, and for once, you’re going to sit there.” I nip at her finger but nod. Damn, she’s fucking sexy when she’s bossy.

  “Everyone has said I should stay away from you.”

  I nod. “Yeah, they are right, Angel. Ain't ever said I’m a good man.”

  She rolls those icy blue eyes, getting off me, I place her hands on her hips. “Guess what? Newsflash, Saint: I can think for myself. I'm not this little naive girl you all seem to think I am! Yeah, I was messed up a little after everything that went down. Who the hell wouldn’t be?” she growls. “You all keep saying that I don’t belong in this world, but you’re forgetting who my daddy is. This is my fucking world.”

  I’m up and on her in two seconds, capturing her face. “Aint saying that shit to hurt you, girl. I’m saying it because you deserve more than someone as fucked up as me.” I pause, letting the words sink in. “I’ve done things that will make you run away screaming, make your nightmares look like fairytales. You getting it, Angel?” She nods, her breath becoming choppy. “You’re too good for this life, for waiting on a man that may never return. But I’ll protect you, girl, won’t let anything fucking touch you. I’ll fight for you with my last breath.” I rub my thumb against her cheeks, the skin soft under my coarse thumb. “You hear me, girl?”

  She nods, taking a step back. “Yeah, Saint, I hear you.” She walks toward the door, and it takes everything in me not to reach for her. Just as she reaches the door, she looks over her shoulder.

  “I hear you. But you’re just as bad as everyone else, all thinking you know what I need.” She laughs but it’s tight and dark. “Yet no one actually thought to ask me what I want.” She shakes her head, making her dark hair spill over her shoulder as she leaves.

  “Fuck!” I go to follow her but stop. If I’m going to make her mine, then I need to make sure everything else is out of the way. We need to sort this shit with the Phoenixes; burn them to the ground and then watch as they turn to ash.

  Then I am talking to Reaper and West. They can do what they want, because she’s fucking mine.

  I walk into the bar to cheers, the boys all holding their beers up in the air, coming to slap me on the back, grins on their faces. I look around to see West walking toward me with a bottle of the good stuff in his hand.

  “What happened?” I ask, looking around.

  West shakes his head, looking at me. “Still don’t fucking get it. They’re happy your stupid ass is still alive.” I watch his eyes, only seeing the truth.

  Reaper walks into the room.

  “Good to see you son.” He slaps my back, and all I can do is nod. I’m lost for words.

  “Church,” Reaper calls, walking away. The brothers all follow. When my eyes lock on my angel’s, she doesn’t give me the smile I’m used to seeing, instead turning her head away.

  I take a step forward to talk to her, when West stands in my way. “A fight for another day, brother. We need to sort out shit first.”

  I lift my chin because he’s right, club business always comes first.

  We all place our phones and pieces into the box before walking through the oak doors. The room only holds a big oak table and chairs, with brothers past and present all carved into it. I take a seat on Reaper’s right, West on his left.

  The room quietens down.

  “First thing’s first, good to have you back, son.” Cheers go around again, and I lift my chin.

  The gavel goes down. “The Phoenixes have declared war, going after my Harla and now Saint.” He starts, his voice full of rage. The whole room turns deadly, every brother nodding slowly, like rabid animals wanting their taste of blood. My beast growls the loudest, licking its lips as if he can already taste it.

  Then that smile pulls at Reaper’s lips, the one he shows the enemy before slitting their throats. “Caston was visiting his girl last night, only she isn't his girl at all.”

  My brows pull down as I look across the room, seeing the same confusion in all their eyes. All except for West, who’s grinning.

  “Star.” His grin widens. Star is one of our girls from Sweets, and Caston is one of the Phoenix MC's brothers.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” Toke says, and Reaper shakes his head.

  “Where is he?” I growl, standing.

  Reaper stares right at me, knowing my eyes are darkening. “Waiting for you.”

  I leave church, heading straight for the door, when Angel runs straight at me, placing a soft hand on my arm. “Saint?”

  I turn to look at her, biting my lip to stop myself from kissing her. “You wanted the real me, baby girl, this is him. You still want him, baby?” I sneer. She swallows, taking a step back from the look in my eyes. “Warned you, sugar.” I lean in, anything but sweet.

  She grinds her teeth together and nods, stepping out of my way.

  I walk straight to the meat shed. We don't store meat here. This is my place, where I make people pay, make them tell me all their secrets. I walk in to see Caston tied t
o a chair, the boys already having done a number on him. His face is swollen.

  I walk over, kicking his chair. His head snaps up, a sneer on his lips, but his eyes widen when he sees me.

  “You’re alive.” I lean in close, grinning as I spin my knife around.

  “There’s no killing the devil.”

  I turn, punching the wall, and pain radiates up my arm. My knuckles are covered in Caston’s blood and send a smear across the wall. Reaper keeps kicking Caston’s lifeless body. He had sung like a canary. He told us that Fang, President of the Phoenix MC, has a hard on for Harla, that he’s coming after us with everything he has to get her.

  West turns and punches Reaper, sending him on his ass. “How the fuck does Fang know about her, when not even your own fucking son did?”

  Reaper wipes the blood off his lips. “That’s your only free hit, boy. Next time, I hit back,” he growls, standing up.

  I stand between them both. “You sort this out. Us against each other ain’t going help An—Harla.” They both nod, and I run my hands over my shaven head. “Mole.”

  Both their eyes widen, but it’s Reaper who nods. “Yeah, it's the only thing that makes sense. But who?” he growls. No one likes to think a brother has turned. When Reaper walks up to me, he tightly holds the back of my neck. “Take her to the cabin.”

  I shift my gaze to West, who nods. Turning my attention back to Reaper, I nod.

  “I won't let anyone hurt her.” She’s mine. I want to scream it, so that the whole fucking world knows.

  Reaper nods, looking older than he ever has, the dark shadows under his eyes the only sign of how much this is getting to him. “Leave tonight. Have some of the brothers follow you to Creek Point.”

  11

  Harla

  We’ve been at this cabin for the past three days. West never got to take me shooting, as soon as Saint was able, I was rushed to this cabin. Things between Saint and I are strained. He doesn’t really talk unless he needs to, and even then, there’s only a few words.

  It hurts that he’s treating me as though I hardly exist, and I’m pissed that he’s acting this way. I’m so mad at everyone right now. No one told me what the hell was going on, just that I had to leave. Dad wasn’t even there when I left. Everything I had ever thought about my dad was a lie. He’s not the man I believed him to be. When he came to see Gigi and me, he was different. I realize now that he was putting on a facade. He was showing me what he thought I wanted to see, not the man he truly is. Had he asked, I would have told him that I just wanted my daddy, any way I could have gotten him. The only good thing to come from all of this is West and Callie. Without them, I’d be truly alone.

  The rain pelts against the roof and I inwardly groan. I’d been able to sit outside the past few days, to put some space between Saint and me. I walk into the living room and find it empty, the only noise the raindrops. Glancing at the fireplace, I see that it’s been cleaned out and there’s firewood ready to start the fire.

  This cabin is cold at night, and the only way it warms is if we have the fire on. It doesn't take me long to get the fire started. It's something I used to do when I lived with Gigi. During the winter months, the fire would be going all day every day.

  "I was going to do that," that deep voice sounds from behind me, and I turn to see him staring at me intently.

  I shrug. "It didn't take long. Besides, you were busy. I thought I'd help," I tell him as I get to my feet.

  "I need to get more wood and some food. I won't be long," he says gruffly.

  I walk into the kitchen, not saying a word. The door slams closed and I release a harsh breath. I hate how things have become between us. It's not what I wanted. I never would have gotten that deep with him had I known he'd act this way. Every day gets harder as he pulls a little further away from me. He's out of my reach, and I know that I should walk away and leave things be, but he has this pull. It's as though he's a magnet and I'm being dragged toward him.

  Once I've washed my hands, I take a seat on the couch and pick up the book that I've been reading, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. I'm not sure whose book this is, but there's an entire bookcase filled with the old classics. I'm grateful that someone had the idea of stocking the cabin with them. There's nothing else to do here as there's no TV.

  I wake with a start, the rain still falling outside. Darkness is setting in. Is Saint back yet?

  Glancing at the fire, I see that it's dying. Quickly getting up off the couch, I make my way over to it and add some more firewood. It takes a couple of minutes but the heat blasts from it as it begins to burn. Checking my watch, I see that it's almost six in the evening. I sigh. Has he been gone all day? Then I think back to how things were this morning when he left. I didn't even reply to him. No wonder he hasn’t wanted to come back.

  The kitchen’s empty when I walk into it. I head over to the sink and wash my hands, glancing at the door and hoping he'll walk through it at any moment. Opening the fridge, I see there's nothing in there for me to cook. Sighing, I check the cupboards and the pantry. I come across a packet of pasta. That'll do, it's better than nothing. Once the pasta is cooked, I decide to shower while I wait for Saint to return.

  Tears fall as soon as the water cascades down my back. I have no idea what to do about Saint. I want to talk to him but I'm so angry that I don't want to say anything in case I say something I regret. My eyes close and it's his face I see, when he walked out of church and told me he wasn't a good man. His face contorted with anger, his eyes darker than I had ever seen them before. He believes that he frightened me, that seeing the true him would make me want to run. What he doesn't know is seeing that tiny glimpse into his true self made me want to delve deeper, get to the root of who he truly is. I want him to show me every single piece of him and then I want him to take every piece of me.

  It takes a while for the tears to dry up. Once they do, I begin to wash. I try and scrub away the pain and anger I’m feeling but it’s to no avail. The ache in my chest is still there, the feeling of loneliness present more than ever. I switch off the shower and stand there, my hands on the shower wall, and breathe. The rain still pounds against the roof, and I let the noise settle over me, calming me.

  The front door bangs and I jump. “Cabrón!” Bastard. Saint’s deep voice is strained.

  Jumping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around me and rush into the hall, just in time to see Saint walking into the kitchen.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, following him.

  “Fine,” he growls, not even glancing at me. He’s holding his hand over the sink, glancing down. I see droplets of blood on the floor leading to the sink.

  Frowning, I follow the trail and see a gash on his palm. “Jesus, Saint,” I cry, and grab a clean towel from the drawer. “Here,” I say gently, reaching for his hand.

  “It’s fine,” he says tightly, his eyes raking over my body, darkening at the sight of me in only a towel.

  I sigh, shaking my head at his stubbornness. “Sit down and let me help.” I glance at him and see he’s about to argue. “Please?”

  He clamps his mouth shut and nods slightly.

  “Thank you,” I tell him as I direct him to the seat. “I’m going to clean it up and see if it’ll need stitches.”

  “It won’t,” he replies gruffly.

  I won’t argue with him about that. “Okay, I’ll clean it, then bandage it.” I rush into the bathroom, knowing I saw some bandages here only yesterday. I grab them and make my way back to the kitchen to see that I have Saint’s full attention, his gaze so intense on me that I feel exposed, naked, vulnerable.

  I notice that he’s got a bottle of vodka in his hand. Saves me finding it.

  “What happened?” I ask as I place the bandages on the countertop and reach for the bottle.

  He shrugs as I take his hand. “I was cutting the wood and the axe slipped.” He acts as though it’s nothing, but when I take the towel away, I see how deep he’s cut himself. There’s
so much blood.

  He hisses through his teeth as I clean his wound with vodka. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, hating that I’m hurting him.

  “Angel,” he growls.

  Pain erupts in my chest. I had loved that he called me that, but now… now I hate it. It’s a reminder of things I want but can’t have. He’s letting others dictate what he can and can’t do. I quickly finish cleaning his hand and bandage it up. I honestly thought I’d be able to do this.

  Maybe everyone is right, maybe I am that naive little girl? I want Saint. I think that I’ve fallen for him. How stupid am I? Once I’m finished bandaging him up, I stand, needing to get some space between us. I peer at him and see that he’s not even looking at me. I walk away.

  “Angel.” His voice stops me, my body going rigid as I wait for him to speak. He doesn’t, just stays silent.

  Just like a magnet, I can’t deny the pull. Turning around, I stare at him. “What, Saint?”

  “What’s crawled up your ass?”

  My eyes widen at his words. Is he for real?

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had an attitude,” I reply, sugary sweet. I watch as he grits his teeth. “It’s been a long ass week.”

  His laughter is mocking. “Well, sugar, get used to it. You’re in the real world now.”

  My nose scrunches in disgust. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Never claimed differently.”

  I shake my head as I take a step toward him, anger coursing through my body. “I’m so fucking sorry that not everyone can be as cool as you. My entire world has been turned upside down in the space of a week.” My breathing is hard as I fight to keep the tears at bay. “I watched my gigi get shot, and I watched her fight to try and keep me safe. Then I was shot. And to make matters worse, I find out that my dad’s not the man I believed him to be.” My laughter is bitter. “In fact, the only person who gives a shit about me is a brother I never knew I even had.” I swallow harshly as my tears well in my eyes. “So I’m sorry that I’ve had a tough week.”