by Raven Dark
When he lifted his head, I wanted to tear my eyes from his, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t even holding my face anymore, but I couldn’t break our eye contact to save my life. His eyes were pools of raging need and possession, corrosive and all consuming.
An instant before I hurtled over the edge, Sheriff released my hands and sat up, but only to pull out and flip me over onto my stomach. Every part of me burned, aching for him.
“Do you want me, Little Spy?” His voice was dark and rough, unrecognizable.
I couldn’t bring myself to say it, couldn’t admit he’d won, but my body apparently hadn’t gotten the message. I angled my hips, knees spread, open for him.
Sheriff hammered home with a groan, making us one with a grind and a curse. “Tell me. Tell me how much you like your master fucking you.”
His words were crude and coarse, but I could hear something unspoken in them, an ownership that demanded I admit he was so much more to me than my master.
That I was more than his slave.
The words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t let them, couldn’t open the vein I’d have to slice to let such emotions run free.
He tore off my top, and his nails raked my back, making me whine in pleasure-pain. “This tattoo says it all. You’ll always be mine. Ours. There’ll never be anyone else.”
Oh, Maker’s Sacred Light help me, what had I done? His words sliced at me, cutting away at the part of me I refused to give to him, severing the strings that still made it mine.
I groaned, the only response I could give.
He cursed again and pounded me savagely. “If you won’t get out of my head, then you’ll give all of yourself to me until there’s nothing left for you.” He lifted my hips, thrusting wildly, beating a harsh tattoo on my insides, leaving a mark I’d never be able to see, but would always know was there. I thrashed and screamed and writhed.
“All mine,” he panted. We ground into each other, wave after wave of pleasure pulling me further and further, drowning me in him. My nipples were hardened points of pain. He shoved his hands under me and rolled my nipples between his fingers until I groaned.
“Master…”
“Unless you’re going to declare yourself mine, shut the fuck up.” His hips smacked mine. The command shot through me. My climax clawed me apart and I screamed, the cry echoing through the Grotto. Sheriff pulled out, I heard him panting raggedly, and then warm liquid splashed on my back.
Right across the Dark Legion’s mark covering my skin.
His mark.
Oh, Maker, help me, he had me. He had all of me, but there was no way could he know that. Not until he opened himself up to me the way he commanded of me.
Moments later, after he’d wiped away all traces of his come from my back with a handkerchief from his pocket, we lay together across the grass.
“See? Was that so bad?” He rolled on his side and leaned down, dropping kisses on my cheeks and lips.
“Of course not, Master.” My own feelings for him welled up, making my eyes sting in their futility.
“Good. Get used to this, Setora. This is what forever feels like.”
Forever. Maker.
I looked into his eyes, deep into that blue, almost purple abyss. Like the fool I was, I hoped against hope for what I knew in my heart would never be. “Please tell me about Damien, Master.”
His jaw tightened. He got to his feet and did up his pants, saying nothing. His silence was crushing.
Sheriff turned and tossed me my clothes. “Get dressed. We’ll be leaving shortly.”
My heart shattered. Not for what he’d done to me, because he hadn’t done anything I didn’t wish him to do. No, it shattered in the knowledge that, no matter what I felt for him, he’d always take more than I was ready to give.
Feeling numb and shaky, I pulled on my clothes and stood, not looking at him. Some part of me shut down, closing him off. It felt like there was a brick sitting on my chest.
That feeling didn’t leave the whole way back to the main part of the Grotto. My heart heavy, I rode behind him in silence. My arms were tight around his waist, but they felt like they were empty.
I hadn’t said no to his question, hadn’t wanted to say no, but I’d held back for fear of losing him when we each discovered the truths about each other. How ironic that, right then, I already felt like I’d lost him.
Chapter 7
Leaving
The whole way back to the Grotto, I was in a daze. Returning to the garage with Sheriff, I thought of Hawk and how he had left me after things had gone so wrong with him. Sheriff wanted me as more than a slave, but I’d never felt more like a slave than I did now. He wanted all of me, but he wouldn’t open himself up. He wouldn’t let me in, and it left me feeling more uncertain of him than ever.
That morning, I’d been excited. This was my first road trip with the Legion. Now the trip had lost all its appeal when I knew Sheriff probably wanted to leave me behind.
Sheriff shut off his bike and swung off, then lifted me off the seat. My hands ended up splayed on his chest for support, his palms burning my bare waist, while the masculine, sandalwood scent of him made my head swim. He said nothing and wouldn’t look at me. The chasm between us widened, deep and yawning, and sadness tightened my gut.
Sheriff released me and nodded to T-Man, who was checking over the bikes in the garage, preparing them for our departure.
“Take care of her, will you, T-Man? The others should be getting ready to leave.”
T-Man walked over. “Sure, General. As soon as I do the maintenance check on your bike.”
Sheriff stalked out of the garage without so much as a look back at me. I sighed.
“You piss him off again, girl?”
I didn’t miss the accusation in T-Man’s voice. “I guess I did, sir.”
“Oh, good. Now he’ll be in a sour mood all the way to Delta. What did you do?” He squatted down and lifted up a back compartment behind the bike seat.
“I would rather not discuss it, please, sir.” I looked closer at the bike, turning my focus to his repairs instead of the General and me. “How do you guys power your bikes, anyway? I know some road warriors power them with oil, but yours don’t smell like oil when they run.”
T-Man lifted his head, his hazel eyes alight with amusement. “What kind of girl are you, asking about engines?”
“A curious one, sir.” I leaned on the seat.
“So I see,” he drawled. Then he took out his pipe and pointed the stem at a large, metal box-shaped object sitting in the compartment he was working on. “You see this?”
I nodded.
“It’s the battery. The batteries hook up to the solar trees you see out on some of the greens. There are wires that run in here from the trees, letting us plug the batteries into the walls. They have to be charged every eight hours or so. It’s one of the few things we use solar energy for.”
“Now I understand.” Damien had dozens of expensive carriages that were all solar powered, but those were covered in solar panels that gathered the energy. “What happens when the power runs out?”
“We have to recharge.” He finished looking over the bike and then swung on. “On the way to Delta, there are places where we can siphon off enough energy to keep us going until the next stop.”
“Siphon off? You mean you steal.”
He put his unlit pipe between his teeth and shrugged. “We are pirates, slave.”
Before I could reply, he jumped on Sheriff’s throttle and the engine roared. He tested the engine, cranked it a few times, and then shut it off.
I could never figure out if I liked T-Man or not. He was attractive enough, with a thick head of curly blond hair that fell to his shoulders, a harshly chiseled jawline, a dagger earring hanging from his left ear, and interesting spaceship tattoos going from his shoulders down to both huge biceps, but he was also the Dark Legion’s executioner. He mostly spoke to me with respect, but he also had clear ideas about how a slave should behave, an
d he alternated between teasing me because I didn’t follow those rules or getting irritated with me for it.
When he finished his check, he took out a bag of tobacco and thumbed some into the bowl, then lit up. The smell of whatever he smoked wasn’t unpleasant, and I actually liked the slightly sweet and woodsy scent.
“Does this mean you’re coming on the trip with us?” I didn’t know if I was glad or not. The more people on the trip who I got along with, the better, especially when Sheriff wouldn’t make things easy.
“I am.” He straightened and led me out of the garage. “Let’s get you back to your men so you don’t keep everyone waiting.”
A short time later, T-Man led me up the wooden walkway to Steel’s and Pretty Boy’s caves. Passing Steel’s, I heard a strange, muffled thumping sound and stopped at the entrance.
Over in the corner of his living room, Steel was throwing fast punches at a bag that hung from the cave ceiling. He turned, probably having heard us on the walkway.
“Hey, Petal. Pretty Boy’s in his quarters waiting for you. Come here and give Master a kiss first.”
I thanked T-Man and he left with a wave. Steel was stripped to the waist, his hands wrapped to protect his giant fists, sweat slicking his massive chest and arms and dripping down his face, so that he looked like someone had coated him in oil. I walked over to him with a smile.
“You’re all sweaty, Master.” I faked a shudder when he yanked me against his soaked frame. But it was hardly unpleasant. He smelled clean and hot and male, and there was something about being crushed to this giant warrior’s frame that made my sex clench.
Steel laughed and spun me so that I had my back to him and pinned me to him with an arm around my shoulders. His wet face nuzzled mine, and I squealed in disgust. He tickled my waist, and I screamed in delight. He planted big, sloppy kisses on my face. All the sadness and pain Sheriff had left me with faded to nothing.
“Steel, leave her alone, we’re pressed for time,” Pretty Boy called out, sticking his head into the entrance of the cave. But he was smiling.
Steel slapped my backside and pushed me towards Pretty Boy. “Let’s go, Petal.”
We went over to Pretty Boy’s quarters next door. In his disordered room, strewn with all the finest clothes, he stood by the bed next to Cherry. Both were rifling through a bag full of clothing, leather skirts, tops with artful tears in them, wide belts, clothes obviously meant for me.
“All right, get your ass over here, Princess. Time to make you look the part.”
“The part of a road rat, you mean.” I pulled the tie out of my hair.
Cherry nodded. “I’ll show you how to do your hair and makeup for it. It’s more or less the way you looked the night of the barbeque, but with more bling and wilder hair. And now you have the tramp stamp to prove it.” She gave me a penetrating look, then hustled me over to Pretty Boy’s small water closet. “Let’s get you washed up before you change.”
Once inside the water closet with the door closed, she handed me a wash cloth and put her hands on her hips.
“It was Hawk, right?” Her voice was tight.
I shook my head and stripped off my cadris top.
She rolled her eyes when I looked at her. “Sheriff,” she drawled.
I shrugged.
She released a big sigh and made a circle in the air with her finger. I turned, and she wiped off my back with the washcloth. “One step forward, two steps back. I guess it’s just going to take more time with him.”
“I don’t know if I want to go on this trip now,” I said quietly.
“Sure you do. You’ll love it. He’ll come around. You’ll make him, you’ll see.”
“Stop gossiping in there, you two, and get out here. We need to be on the road soon.”
Cherry opened the door. “We’re coming, hold your horses!”
“Take those clothes off,” Pretty Boy said when I’d joined him by the bed, ignoring Cherry’s impertinence.
I stripped down. “What is a road rat, anyway? I mean, Sheriff used the name before as if it had status of some sort.”
Status that, at the time, he didn’t think I deserved. Would he think I did now?
“It does, outside the Grotto,” Pretty Boy said. “A road rat is the term road warriors use for a woman who goes on the road with the men to fulfill their needs. Only select slaves have the privilege. Most slaves never ride.”
“So it’s earned.”
“Yes. Here, put this on.”
Thoughts spinning, I slid on the skirt he handed me, adjusting it so that the slits traveled up my sides. Now I understood Sheriff’s reaction when I’d first come back to the Grotto after they’d rescued me from Talak. I imagined that, with the danger of being on the road, beyond where zone borders and walls protected those within, being a road rat took a special kind of toughness and streetwise knowledge of her crew. Respect from the men, at least the measure afforded to the station, would be tantamount, along with a trust that the woman knew her place. I hadn’t earned the role at the time. Had I done so now?
“This is the only way to keep you safe on the road,” Pretty Boy said, obviously picking up on my worry as Cherry helped me slip on a cropped top. The top was cut high enough to show the bottom half of the tattoo, and the words that labeled me as belonging to the Legion.
“I’m not sure I know how to play this role,” I said.
Pretty Boy tipped my chin up. “You’ll do fine.” He ran his fingers through my black hair. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you with this hair. I can’t wait until the lavender is back.”
When I nodded distractedly, he peered closer at my face. “You okay, Princess?”
My insides tightened at the memory of what had happened with Sheriff. “I’m fine. I’m just…nervous about the trip, is all.” Suddenly I wished Sheriff wasn’t coming.
“You don’t have anything to worry about.” He kissed my forehead, and the soft heat of his lips served as a balm on the sting in my heart. “We’ll protect you. And being a road rat is easy. Just keep your head down, do what we tell you, and, if you see something that needs doing, do it. Diamond and Emmy are coming too, so they’ll show you the ropes. We’ll keep you plenty busy.” His smile was playful. My insides heated.
“Cherry, you’re not going with us?”
She shook her head, looking wistful. “Gramps needs me here.”
“Wait. Do road rats have to pleasure all the men on a run? I wouldn’t have to…”
“Normally, they do, but not you,” Pretty Boy said. “Relax. The Four have you all to ourselves.” He pulled me against him. “You saw how Steel and I got when Bear had you in his lap. No way could we let anyone touch you but us.”
“Oh, Maker’s tits, can we get on with this?” Cherry said, but she was smiling as she fastened a chainmail belt around my waist.
I slipped on the finishing touches—a pair of black, knee-high boots with pointed heels and buckles up the sides, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves with tears across the backs. Every inch of my outfit, except the chainmail belt, was as black as my dyed hair, which Cherry teased until it was a mane of frizz around my head.
Cherry added charcoal to my eyelashes and brows, turning the lavender color of both to black. She showed me how to apply a smoky-eyed look and then added pink gloss to my lips.
“You’ll have to make sure your lashes and brows are always covered when people are around, Violet, or they’ll give you away.”
“How are we going to hide the color of my eyes?”
“You’ll see.” She grinned.
We were about to head out of the cave when Pretty Boy stopped me.
“Oh, one more thing.”
“Yes, Master?” I squeezed his hand.
“While we’re on the road, your name is no longer Setora. Setora is being hunted by the J’nai. Until we’re alone, at Delta, or back here, you’ll go only by your road name, Onyx.”
“A road name? I get a road name?” My grin stretched
from ear to ear.
He kissed my forehead again. “All road rats do, Princess.”
Well, the name might be only part of a disguise, but having it still made me feel warm inside, once more like I was one of them. Maybe one day I would truly earn the respect it implied.
How strange that, only a month ago, I would have considered the name, these clothes, as further marks of the savagery these men displayed. Now I longed to bear all the trademarks of their MC they would bestow on me.
We arrived back at the garage, already packed full of men ready to ride.
Bike engines revved, and men shouted to one another, filling the place with sound. Everyone packed bags on the backs of their bikes or in side and back compartments. Swords, blades and crossbows disappeared into hatches, and some men slipped on fingerless riding gloves, studded wrist cuffs, or spiked shoulder plates and neck collars, all of which gave them a scary, intimidating countenance.
The look of deadly pirates not to be challenged.
Some of the men wore helmets, all designed to look frightening, while other men had tied black cloths over the bottom halves of their faces to conceal their identities.
“Get over here, Kitten. You’ve never ridden with me before.” Hawk stood beside his hulking black bike, the hilts of two swords sticking up from behind his shoulders.
His invitation tickled my insides and a bubble of happiness welled up in me before I could stop it. After what had happened between us, I didn’t know how far I was ready to let Hawk in, but it felt wonderful that he wasn’t pushing me away anymore. We hadn’t had that talk he’d promised, but I knew it was coming soon.
Trying to play it cool, I walked over to join him. He took a small, thick crystal vial with a bulb-shaped stopper out of his cut’s pocket. He unscrewed the bulb, revealing an attached eyedropper. Clear, colorless liquid filled the dropper.
“What is that, Master?”
“These drops are for your eyes. They’ll change the purple to black for up to six hours before you have to apply them again. Tilt your head back.” When I hesitated, his mouth turned up. “They’re painless.”