by Cameron Hart
“Oh. Cool, I think.” I don’t know anything about motorcycle clubs, so I don’t know if I should be weary of my current situation.
It can’t be any worse than where you just came from.
Plus, Jax has been nothing but kind and attentive to me. I really do trust him.
“Well, thank you. For last night. I mean, shit, not like that…” God, what am I even saying?
I wait for him to make some snarky comment, but he just gives me a sweet smile, concern flickering in his eyes. “Of course, beautiful.”
He takes a deep breath and watches me polish off the last of my breakfast.
We sit in silence for a few moments. I know what he’s going to ask.
“I know it might be difficult, but can you tell me what happened last night?”
I close my eyes and try to think of how to respond.
“My fiancé is an asshole and I was trying to get away from him.” That’s all true. Just not the whole truth.
“And…?”
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me with those blue eyes so full of kindness and sincerity. I really do hate to deceive him, but it’s for his own good.
“I saw your wrists. I know you were tied up. That seems a little extreme for an abusive ex.” He looks at me for confirmation but I can’t meet his gaze. “Plus… last night before you passed out, you said, ‘please don’t let them get me.’”
I close my eyes. Shit, shit, shit. Why did I say that last night? I just need to get out! I start to shake and can’t seem to take in enough air.
The bed dips down next to me with the weight of his body. I feel his heat only inches away from me. He takes my hand in his and I look back into his eyes. “Who are you running from, sweetheart?”
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, willing this situation to be different, for me to be normal and not have to run away. I want to stay here in this safe bubble, but I know once I open my eyes I’ll have to face reality.
“Hey. Claire. Look at me.”
It’s the first time he’s used my real name. I open my eyes as tears start to form.
“You’re safe. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
With his free hand, he reaches out to cup my cheek like he did earlier. He brushes my tears away with his thumb. He’s so close. I wonder what he tastes like, if his kiss would be gentle or rough.
Get it together, Claire.
“I can’t…” I manage to squeak out. “It’s better for you not to know.” I look away from him; his stare is too much.
“Claire, please. Please trust me. I can protect you. My club can protect you. We just need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“NO!” I say with more force than I thought I had in me. “I just need to get away from here! I can’t stay. I can’t put anyone else in danger. Please just let me go!”
I try shoving away his hands, but he won’t let me go.
“Jax I need to leave, please,” I cry out. Tears start streaming down my face uncontrollably as my body is wracked with painful sobs.
Jax never lets me go. He wraps me up in his arms and pulls me to his chest. I don’t feel afraid or suffocated though, I feel oddly… comforted. Like he’s trying to calm a storm inside me that I don’t even understand.
“Shh, baby, it’s ok. Stop fighting, you’re ok,” he whispers into my hair before resting his forehead on top of my head. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here for you. You’re safe.”
He holds me until my tears run dry and the fight drains out of me.
We sit in silence for a few minutes as my breath evens out.
“Please, sweetheart, you’re killing me here. I have to know what happened.”
I nod my head against his chest and start to unwind myself from his embrace.
Reluctantly, Jax lets me go. He seems to know I need some space to tell my story. He helps me sit up against the headboard, placing a pillow behind me.
I take a fortifying breath and get ready to possibly make the stupidest mistake of my life.
“I ran away from a cult.”
Chapter 9
Jax
I thought of dozens of scenarios that Claire could have been running from, but a cult? A fucking cult? Here?
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
She laughs dryly. “Exactly!”
I have to crack a smile at that. She’s so incredibly strong, and to be able to maintain some sort of sass and personality after whatever the hell she’s been through is nothing short of amazing. I know she’s nowhere near healed, physically or emotionally from everything, but I know she’s going to recover. And fuck, I want to be the one to help her and see the real her once she is free from all of this bullshit.
I wait for her to continue.
She seems at a loss to know what to say next.
“Just start at the beginning, beautiful.”
She nods and takes a few more steadying breaths.
“My parents joined The Guardians five years ago. I was sixteen. I was never a follower, but I didn’t really have much choice than to join them, ya know? I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn a bit more about their faith, and if I decided it wasn’t for me, surely, they’d let me leave when I turned 18.
“I attended classes on the compound and started asking questions. I quickly found out they didn’t like anyone to be too curious, especially women. They were pretty adamant about what a woman’s place was and they weren’t above forcing us into submission.”
She closes her eyes as if reliving some awful memory.
I clench my jaw and try to keep my rage under control. I already don’t like where this is heading. I reach out and stroke her hand to bring her back to me and encourage her to keep going.
“Anyway. I stayed under the radar until my eighteenth birthday. I approached my parents and told them I was grateful for everything they had done for me and I and respect their choice to be at the compound, but it wasn’t the life I wanted. Before I even got through my speech, my dad slapped me and sent me crashing to the floor. He had never been physically abusive until then. He knew the elders used physical force within the school and while working on the compound, but he was never one to take things that far.”
Rage boils in my blood and I’m pretty sure I’m about to crack a tooth from how hard I’m clenching my jaw. The thought of anyone hurting Claire pisses me the fuck off, but her dad? Her fucking father? I try to calm down because as much as this is going to suck to hear, I need to know. And I think she needs to talk about it.
“I was more stunned than anything else. I couldn’t believe how much he had changed in just the two years we’d been there. It’s not how I wanted to end things, but I had to get out. I darted towards the door, but he caught me and hit me again and again and I couldn’t get up. I heard him put a call into the elder’s council, and soon elder Davis and elder Thompson were at the door, dragging me away.
“They took me to The Mercy Room, hah,” she laughs without humor. “What a joke. It was basically solitary confinement. Four white walls, a cot, a bucket to go to the bathroom in, and one meal a day. They called it The Mercy Room because the next step in disciplinary action was exile – which they would claim means shunning you, but everyone knows it really means they kill you.”
“Fuck!” I can’t help but interject.
“Yeah. Things got pretty dark in there. I started to see the irony of The Mercy Room. The real mercy would have been a goddamn bullet to the head.”
I lace my fingers through hers and gently squeeze. I am so glad she decided to survive, and fuck, I respect her so much for fighting through all of this.
“After two months in The Mercy Room, they let me out, but I was ready.”
“Two months? Two months? Fucking hell.” I run my free hand over my face and tug at my hair. Fucking monsters.
She just nods. “I played my part. I went to their Restoration classes that were supposed to reintegrate me and make me holy or whatever.
I earned back their trust and became the picture of submissive. I became their favorite story – the prodigal’s son, or daughter or whatever. The black sheep who came back into the fold. I got onto the kitchen team, which meant I could go into town for groceries every week. I always skimmed a little off the top when I went. They only dealt in cash and they didn’t want receipts or any records of any transactions, so I could take $20 or $30 here and there. On some of the bigger shopping trips for celebrations or special occasions I could take a couple hundred. I figured once I got $2,000 I would make a break for it.
“All was going according to plan, and then one day in chapel, elder Davis announced that God had spoken to him and told him to choose a wife. Guess who the lucky bitch was?”
“Wait, the same Davis douche who threw you into solitary?”
“Yup. Turns out he had a sweet spot for yours truly.”
A dark cloud passes over her eyes. The thought had crossed my mind a few times if she had been abused in any other way. I have to ask. I have to know.
“Angel… Did he ever…” God, I can’t even say it out loud without choking on anger.
“No, thank fuck.”
A wave of relief passes through me.
“But,” she continues, “He was headed to my room last night when I was on my way out. I was going to escape for good, it was a little sooner than I planned but I had money and supplies hidden in the woods and I was ready. I barely got out of my window when he shoved me into a tree. I was so fucking close to escaping. I don’t know where I got the courage, but I head-butted him and broke his nose. He dropped me and fell to the ground, but he took me with him. I kicked and punched and just wet totally ape shit on him, but he’s so huge, it didn’t take long for him to pin me down and strangle me till I passed out.”
She closes her eyes and I fight the urge to find the next person who crosses me and punch them to a bloody pulp. But I have to hear the rest.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What happened next?”
“I woke up in a barn with my hands tied. I heard elder Davis talking to someone about what to do with me. They finally decided they were going to kill me and make it look like an outsider did it, that I died for my faith. They wanted to make me a martyr. They said it would be good to solidify our people and convince them of the war or something. I don’t know what they were talking about.
“Anyway, eventually they came in and strung me up on this huge hook hanging from the ceiling. Davis tried to kiss me and I bit his fucking tongue till he bled.”
She smirks when she says it, a surge of pride puffs up her chest a little bit. While I’m sick to my stomach that he forced himself on her in any way, I’m also so goddamn proud of my little fighter. I think I just fucking fell in love with this strong, beautiful, incredible woman in front of me.
“Obviously he didn’t love that. He took a swing at my ribs with a shovel. By some miracle, we were interrupted. Someone banged on the door and insisted he had to come deal with some emergency.”
I’m seeing red. “A shovel? A fucking shovel? Goddamnit, I’m so sorry. How did you escape?”
“Before they left, elder Davis had the other guy lower me off of my toes and onto the ground. I kept stabbing and rubbing the ropes against the sharp edge of the hook and eventually it snapped. I took the shovel and smashed the only window and ran as far as I could. I found your bar after running through the forest for forever. And then I found you.”
She finally looks up from her hands, the emotional toll of telling her story written all over her face. Those eyes do something to me, and I can’t say I don’t like it. She looks drained. I’m sure from the wounds, the sobbing earlier, and her reliving all that shit, she’s exhausted.
I feel this strong need to touch her, to be near her. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest. It’s different this time, I’m not trying to calm a hysterical, hyperventilating woman; I’m offering my strength, willing it to cover her and let her feel safe.
Her body stiffens at first and I wonder if I crossed a line. But then she melts into my chest and buries her face in between my neck and shoulder. I tuck some loose hair behind her ear and let my fingers trail down her slender neck, landing on some exposed skin on her shoulder. I absentmindedly draw little designs with the tips of my fingers.
I don’t know if she’s feeling what I’m feeling – and God knows what I’m feeling is probably so inappropriate, but I want to feel all of her, all at once. I want to know her and touch her and protect her and fuck her and love her. Shit. I’m already so far gone.
“You’re so strong, Claire. So brave and beautiful,” I whisper into her hair.
She looks up at me with those soul crushing eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She’s so close to me I can feel her breath on my lips. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. I can’t kiss her when she’s so vulnerable and fuck do I want to kiss her. I can’t take my eyes off of her mouth.
She parts her lips slightly and closes the gap between us. Our lips meet and any restraint I had left just flew out the window. Our lips move together and my tongue slips into her mouth.
She lets out the sweetest moan and I move my hand to the back of her head and gently tilt her face up to deepen the kiss.
I explore her mouth with my tongue and taste every inch. I can’t get enough of her. I fight to keep myself in check. Every cell in my body wants to take control, rip her clothes off, and continue exploring the rest of her body with my tongue.
She’s not ready for that and I want more than just a quick fuck. I want it all.
This isn’t just any kiss, it’s all-consuming, life-altering, soul-shattering. It’s everything.
I feel the kiss leading to something more and I reluctantly pull back so we can both catch our breath. I place a kiss on her nose before resting my forehead against hers.
She looks up at me with those gorgeous grey eyes and bites her bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide her smile.
“Wow,” She says, and then blushes.
God, she’s perfect. She’s this fierce, bad ass warrior who escaped hell and lived to tell the tale, but one kiss leaves her self-conscience and shows me her fragile side.
Not that I blame her – fuck. That kiss has me feeling all sorts of things I don’t even know how to deal with.
“Yeah,” I say with a smile.
I gently tuck her head into my chest and rest my chin on top of her hair.
“Get some rest, angel. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I lay there cradling her in my arms and think about what the fuck I’m gonna do next.
Chapter 10
Claire
It’s been three days since I poured out my heart, soul, and dirty laundry to Jax and then completed my absolute humiliation by stealing a freaking mind-blowing kiss from him. Not that I’m counting. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I was delirious, spent from purging my soul to the only person who ever asked. Yes, that’s what happened.
Again, what the hell was I thinking?
Of course he kissed me back, but what else was he supposed to do? I didn’t know him that well, but it was clear he had a savior complex and as much as I hate to admit it, I was a fucking damsel in distress that day. He made me tell him my secrets and I kissed him and so he felt obligated to not humiliate me in the moment. He even held me while I slept.
I haven’t seen him since.
Someone came in that second night with dinner, a change of clothes, and some basic toiletry items. A few hours after the supplies were dropped off, I hobbled my way to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I still had some dirt on my face and I could feel the grime of dried sweat on pretty much every surface of my body. My hair was an absolute disaster with leaves and twigs caught up in the tangled mess.
God, I kissed him looking like this. Smelling like this. I’m such an idiot.
I shook the thought away. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be out of here soon enough. I di
d take advantage of the shower, carefully scrubbing away the filth and memories of the previous day.
I went to bed and had a fitful sleep riddled with nightmares.
***
I slept on and off the next two days, pretty much still in recovery. I have vague memories of food being dropped off, but no Jax.
When I woke up this morning, I half expected Jax to be in the chair next to the bed, but of course, he wasn’t.
Stupid, Claire. Get it together.
I needed a plan. I was feeling a lot better today. Still sore on my ribs and my wrists burned a bit, but whatever ointment Jax used helped a lot.
I take a breath and sit up, looking at the clock. It is almost noon. It’s been almost 4 days since escaping The Guardians. And I need a plan. A plan that doesn’t involve me relying on anyone.
I don’t much care for being confined in a space – what with my time in The Mercy Room and all. So, since I feel better today, I decide to venture outside of the room. I look down at my clothes – which fit surprisingly well. Black leggings, a white tank top, and a cute purple zip up hoodie. This one fits much better than my massive black one.
By the door, I see a pair of flip flops that I didn’t notice before. They are a little big, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I open the door and step outside. I’m instantly hit with the amazing smell of chili. Following my nose, I walk down the hallway and turn to the right.
I see a gigantic man all tatted up with a long grey beard sitting at the kitchen table. There are two women sitting with him, and one woman at the stove pouring something into the large pot of chili.
All of them stare at me and I instantly regret coming out here. After spending so much time keeping my head down and blending in, I’m not used to anyone noticing me, let alone four people all at once.
“Hey, you must be Claire,” says one of the girls at the table. She’s beautiful with blonde hair and blue sparkling eyes. Her smile is so genuine it almost makes me cry for some reason.
When was the last time someone was happy to see me?