by Snow, Jenika
I knew he was out of bed as soon as I woke up. I moved my hand over to his side, running my fingers across the cold cotton sheets. He hadn’t been next to me for a while, not with as chilled as they were, not with the absence I felt in the room.
I sat up and pulled the blanket around me, over my shoulders, and covered my nakedness. The past several days that had passed since I brought him back to my cabin had been memorable, eventful, and unexpected. But I knew the storm was lifting. I knew we couldn’t stay in our little snow globe of isolation forever.
Reality set in, and I had to deal with that. I’d have to come to grips with the fact that no matter what Cullen said during the many times he’d made love to me, as he kissed me and said I was his and he would never leave, none of that might be true. It might have just been in the moment.
In fact, that could be how it was right now. He might already be gone, and here I was sitting in this bed, wishing I would have clung to him and begged him to stay, told him we were perfect for each other.
That we were meant for each other.
As soon as my feet hit the cold wooden floor, a chill raced up my spine and I shivered. I clenched the blanket more firmly around my nudity, never before feeling this bare despite being covered. I’d opened my body and heart to Cullen, a man I hardly knew, yet a man I felt like I’d known my entire life.
And as I stood and left out of the bedroom, my feet padding softly on the hardwood, I felt my nerves grow even higher. I saw him standing by the living room picture window, his arm braced on the glass frame, his shirtless back on clear display. I stood there a moment, not speaking, not making my presence known, although I was pretty sure he already knew I was there. I stared at his tattoos, how intricate they were as they moved over his body, the dark ink staining his golden flesh.
One day, I’d ask him to tell me about each and every one of them, ask him to tell me the story behind them, what they meant to him. Or maybe that day would never come.
“The storm finally lifted.” He didn’t look at me as he said those words, but I could see one of his hands was clenched tightly into a fist, his forearm and bicep muscles flexed from the force of it.
I tightened my hands on the blanket and swallowed roughly, wanting to talk to him about all this, wanting to know what the next step was.
But I was afraid, nervous. I was scared of what he might say.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, me staring at his back, him staring out the window, but he finally turned around, and I felt my breath catch. He had this haunted look on his face, but as soon as he saw me, I swore his eyes lit up.
Still, I didn’t say anything, too afraid to utter words and ruin this moment. But I found myself taking a step closer, and another one until the only thing that separated us was the kitchen island. I stared down at that wood and granite, the memories of how he’d touched, licked, kissed me so intimately on it just days before.
“You’ll be leaving, going home, now that the storm is lifted?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and I regretted the words as soon as they spilled from my lips. I was even more scared now of what he’d say, how he’d react.
I was afraid of my heart being broken.
He said nothing, and we just looked at each other. “I can take you to your car. Let me just get dressed.” I went to turn, telling myself not to cry, that I was stronger than this. I’d been a rock in my life, the only person I could count on when it came to myself. I couldn’t let something like love pull me under.
Love?
Yes, I felt like I was falling for Cullen, like I already had. And there was no going back. He could leave and there would be nothing I could do. He could be out of my life forever, and I’d always think about him, always want him.
Always love him.
But before I took a step toward my bedroom to get dressed, to let the only person who I’d ever cared about with my whole heart walk out of my life, he stopped me with two soft words.
“Don’t go.”
I turned back around, feeling my hands shake from nervousness, from anxiety and all the other hundred emotions racing through me.
“Don’t go,” he said again, but his voice was deeper, gruffer, this knife moving gently over my body, not hard enough to break the skin, but the threat was still there.
He was walking toward me and stopped when only a couple feet separated us. I tipped my head back and looked up at him, at his coal-black eyes I saw soften, as I watched the expression on his face ease.
“Don’t you want to leave, to go home?” Those words were barely a whisper from me. His throat worked as he swallowed, and when he nodded, affirming that he did want to leave, I felt my heart plummet to my belly. God, I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t.
Tell him how you feel. Tell him what you want.
But before anything could come from me, he cupped my cheeks. I realized I’d already grown to love that, to feel his big, strong hands on my body, to feel him being so gentle with me. He said nothing as he stared into my eyes, as I felt the world shift around us, everything else fade away.
“I do want to leave, but not because I want to get away from you.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“I have my life, obligations, my brothers waiting for me.” He smoothed his thumbs along my cheekbones. “But I want you with me. I want you in my life forever, Kimber.”
I felt the smile form on my lips before I could stop it, before I could keep my composure.
“God help me, but I can’t let you go. I won’t.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, an act so soft, so gentle that I closed my eyes and sighed at the feel of his lips on my skin.
“So you don’t want to leave… me?” That last word was whispered so softly I don’t even know if he heard me.
“Fuck, never. Christ, I’ll never leave you, and I won’t let you leave me.” He rested his forehead against mine, and we both breathed out. “I love you, Kimber. I fucking love you, and there’s no doubt in my mind we are meant to be together.”
God, he’d never spoken truer words, because I felt the same way.
“You’re my downfall, Kimber, and I’ve never wanted to go down so hard.”
He tipped my head back and kissed me so soundly, so passionately, there was no doubt in my mind he spoke the truth.
And thank God for that, because I wanted that too. I wanted that so damn much.
Chapter Sixteen
Kimber
One month later
Cullen might not be considered a good man, might have done horrible things in his life—still would if the time came—but at the end of the day, Cullen was mine.
All mine.
And I felt my feelings for him grow every day, consuming me.
The danger that surrounded him, the threat that anything could happen in the future because of how he chose to live his life, how he wanted to make his living, was a reminder of how unsure life could be. I had to be on my guard, ready at all times. But the truth was, it was no different than the life I’d led, the job I worked.
And life in general was so fragile and uncertain.
He was protective of me, possessive of my time, and the way he lavished his affection on me was raw and rough. But I didn’t want soft and sweet. I didn’t want gentle.
For the last several months, we’d been getting to know each other, spending all our time together. And when he took me to his home, introduced me to his brothers, I’d seen the shock on their faces that he… loved someone.
Me.
And they’d welcomed me with smiles and happiness that their brother had finally found someone to complete him.
What they didn’t know, what only Cullen knew, because it was for his knowledge only, was that he completed me as well.
I’d been waiting for him my entire life.
Although Cullen wanted me to quit the hospital, wanted me to stay home, to be safe and not around anyone who might hurt me, I’d made it clear we were a team. I was a healer, and without g
oing out there and making sure people got better, I felt empty. It was the same way he felt whole when he was protecting his family, when he was protecting me.
* * *
Wilder
I brought the joint to my mouth and took a long inhale. I passed it to Frankie, the smoke still in my lungs as he took it and placed the tip between his lips. The sound of us baking was loud in the alley, the echo of bottles being broken in the distance seeming to bounce off the brick walls.
“Where the fuck is he?” Frankie asked in a muffled voice, holding the smoke in his lungs.
“He’ll be here,” I said, the smoke he exhaled a cloud of haziness around us.
“Well, I have shit to do, man.” He leaned against the building, propped one of his feet on the brick wall, and pulled out his cell. The screen lit up his face as he started messing with it.
“Chill, Frankie,” I said. “He’ll be here.”
He snorted. “This is why we don’t do deals with junkies, man. They are unreliable and unpredictable.” Frankie didn’t look up from his cell as he spoke.
Yeah, we didn’t do deals or set shit up with people known to be junkies, but this situation and opportunity was too good to pass up.
“Well, when a junkie can give us access codes, schedules, and any other detail that can score us a big job—the biggest we’ve ever had—I’ll take my chance and deal with a tweaker.”
“Well, better hope Dom isn’t pissed.”
I clenched my jaw. Yeah, Dom probably would be pissed. “He’ll get over it when he realizes how much money we can score with this. Another five minutes and then we’ll bounce,” I said and leaned back against the bricks. I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, the baseball cap I wore pulled down low, the brim blocking out the muted yellow glow from the light at the end of the alley.
And then I heard footsteps approaching. My entire body tensed, and I could see Frankie’s did the same. We both pushed off the wall, him shoving his cell phone back in his pocket, his hand going to the small of his back, where I knew his gun was.
I slipped my hand in my jacket, my fingers brushing up against the cold metal of the gun. No way in fuck we went anywhere without a piece, and especially not when we were meeting with a junkie.
The guy was shuffling along, as if he didn’t know how to pick up his feet when he walked. The scrape, scrape, scrape of his shoes along the asphalt filled the small corridor of the alley, echoing off the building walls.
“Can’t this guy fucking walk?” Frankie muttered under his breath. The tension in his voice would’ve matched mine if I said anything in response.
And then the junkie came closer, the light from the streetlamp washing over him in this dirty glow. He looked between both of us, his body twitching, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept.
“Two of you?” he said in a slurred voice.
Frankie looked over at me, and I could read his expression. He was pissed, all but shouting at me that he’d “told me so,” that we shouldn’t fucking deal with tweakers.
“You got the information or not?” I took a step forward, hand still shoved in the pocket of my coat, waiting for him to give us what we needed so we could get the fuck out of here and away from him.
He took a step back and started looking between Frankie and me, and then he lifted his hand and started picking at his face. “No,” he muttered and shook his head. “I don’t like this. There’s two of you. Why is there two of you?”
Frankie snorted and I glanced at him. He shook his head. “Wilder, man, this is fucked. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He shoved a hand in the pocket of his jacket and I heard his keys jingling around.
Before I knew was happening, the tweaker started screaming about doppelgängers, a government conspiracy, and why there were two of me.
I looked over at the junkie and everything happened in slow motion. I watched as he produced a gun, one he had shoved in the front of his pants. His hand was shaking as he pointed it at me, as his bloodshot eyes went wide and he kept rambling about magic and witchcraft and how there were two of me.
And then I heard a gunshot go off.
At first, I didn’t know if it was Frankie’s or the junkie’s. But then the tweaker turned and ran away, tossing his gun to the ground, and I stood there staring at his retreating form.
I heard Frankie shouting at me, but the words were muffled, this ringing in my ears, this pressure like I was on a plane and they needed to pop.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck, Wilder.” He had his hand on my shoulder and turned me, his focus down at my abdomen, his eyes wide. I looked down and saw my white shirt slowly becoming saturated with blood, the color a vibrant red even in the darkened ally.
“Motherfucker shot me?” I looked up at Frankie, feeling my brows knit.
“Shit, Wilder, you’re in shock.”
And it was after he said that, as I felt him pulling me toward the SUV, as I heard him call up Dom and shout frantically into the cell, I knew this might very well be the end of my story.
But I hoped like hell it wasn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
Kimber
I felt a flush steal over me as Cullen ran his hands over the curve of my bottom.
“Pop that ass up, baby.”
His voice was so husky and serrated. It had this gritty quality to it that instantly had moisture pooling between my thighs. I did what he said, lifting my bottom up slightly and feeling his warm breath skate along the small of my back. Then it was his lips, followed by his tongue. He kissed and licked the mounds of my cheeks, his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my sides.
I closed my eyes and moaned roughly, my hands beside me, the sheets bunched between my fingers. God, it felt so good to be touched by him.
I felt him pull away, but I didn’t protest, because I knew he’d be right back, knew he was getting undressed and about to give me exactly what I wanted.
I knew he’d give me that big and long cock, knew he’d shove it deep inside my body. And just as I heard his zipper sliding down, just as I knew what was about to happen, there was the sound of his cell phone going off.
“Ignore it,” I said, panting out those words as I looked over my shoulder at him.
“Already forgotten, baby,” he replied and smirked.
But then his cell phone went off again. I pushed up on my elbows as I watched his brows knit. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, and whatever number he saw had him growling.
“It’s Dom.”
I knew he was about to say he wasn’t going to answer it, maybe toss the phone away, but as soon as the call ended it immediately started ringing again.
I sat up then, knowing something had to be wrong for Dom to be calling back-to-back like this. I could see on Cullen’s face, on his expression, that he thought the same thing. He placed the cell to his ear and said roughly, “This better be good, brother.”
For long seconds, nothing was said as he listened to Dom on the other end. By the look on his face, I was already up and getting dressed.
Something was wrong.
After terse minutes, Cullen was off the phone and getting dressed himself.
“What’s wrong?” I asked frantically. Cullen was silent, this dangerous, worried air around him. “Cullen, talk to me.” I reached out and grabbed his arm, and he stilled. He looked at me, his brows furrowed.
“It’s Wilder.” Another long moment passed.
“What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Cullen shook his head. “No. He was shot making some back-alley deal. Frankie rushed him to Dom’s place.” He had his hands on my shoulders now, his fingers clutching me. “I need you over there, Kimber. I need you to check on him.” There was panic in his voice. “There’s a lot of blood.”
“Have them call an ambulance. They’ll get to him faster.”
Cullen was shaking his head before I finished speaking.
“Gunshot wounds draw the police. The hospital would have to report it
. You know that. We can’t have any heat on us.”
Damn, he was right.
My heart jumped into my throat and I nodded. “What do you want me to do though? I’m not a doctor, Cullen.”
He cupped each side of my face, looking into my eyes. “You’re the smartest person I know, Kimber. You’re smarter than any fucking doctor out there and you know it.” There was a pleading note in his voice. “And right now, you’re the only one who can save my brother.”
I swallowed roughly and nodded. “Then take me to him.”
I just hoped like hell I was able to help Wilder, because I knew the alternative would be devastating for the Preacher brothers.
The End.
About the Author
Find Jenika at:
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]