Dementor (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 1)

by Candace Blevins

  I started to text him, but I wanted to hear his voice so I called him. “If I know where we’re eating, I’ll have a better idea of what to wear.”

  He told me the name of an upscale steakhouse where he’d probably spend three or four hundred dollars for our meal. “You can’t spend that much.”

  “Who says?”

  “Ummm. Me?”

  “My treat, and that’s where I want to eat. Do you know somewhere that has better steaks?”

  “I’ve never had a steak there, so I don’t know.”

  “Well then, it’s time you did. Am I still picking you up at six?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, because we have reservations at six thirty.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Black jeans and a black tee.”

  “Are you picking me up in your truck or on a bike?”

  “Your choice.”

  “I don’t know what I’m wearing yet, so the truck. I might be in a dress.”

  “Okay then. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Five minutes later, I realized I didn’t own anything dressy that wasn’t sexy. Shit.

  Even my suits were sexy, though not over-the-top with it, but I didn’t want to wear a suit on a date.

  I tried four dresses on and took them all right back off. Okay, I had black jeans, and he said he was wearing black jeans. I didn’t need to overthink this.

  In the end, I wore black heels because I wanted to be taller, black jeans, and a sexy little charcoal and silver mock turtle — and yeah, it was clingy and showed all my curves, but it wasn’t low cut. I grabbed the canvas belt I’d used in the first outfit, and it set it off nicely. A little dressy, a little casual, and sexy without being too flamboyant.

  I didn’t go over the top on makeup, and I wore my hair down. I’d stressed way too much over clothes. I wasn’t going to stress over anything else.

  I opened the gate for him when he arrived, and I met him outside.

  He’d gotten a haircut, and he looked really nice. I looked him over and wanted to fall to my knees and offer to suck his cock, but I took a deep breath and analyzed my reaction. I’d been trained to do that to gain attention or acceptance or whatever. It was one of the only ways I had to show affection to Able, since I wasn’t allowed to be clingy. If he thought I was being demanding of his attention, the consequences were always horrible. He’d sent me to that horrible European vampire once when I annoyed him too much, and I’d been ultra-careful not to go to Able unless ordered, and not to do anything that might be construed as clingy when I returned to his household. My time with Griffin was honestly the worst month of my life. I’m certain it was worse than Hell.

  But I had other ways of showing someone I liked the way they looked now. “You clean up nice. It’s good to see you.”

  “Ditto, and I’ve missed you.”

  He lifted me into his truck, which is fucking huge. He’s a big guy, so it makes sense, but damn. “What kind of gas mileage do you get in this thing?”

  “Better than you’d expect. Around 13 or 14 miles per gallon in the city if traffic isn’t bad, but it has a forty-eight gallon tank, so you don’t have to stop and fill up every other day.” He shrugged. “I have plenty of cash, so buying gas, groceries, and eating out doesn’t really have to be budgeted. I only budget the expenses that have to go through my bank account.”

  “Because the cash is from illegal shit?”

  “Mostly because it hasn’t been taxed.”

  “Not the whole truth.”

  He grinned and shrugged. That was all I was getting from him, but I couldn’t really blame him.

  He asked how our derby season was going, and I ended up talking about myself the entire way there, but he kept asking questions and I couldn’t help it. I answered most everything, but I wished I knew what to ask him to find out what he’d been up to since I’d last seen him. He asked me about school, and I told him I was about to start interning with a security firm six hours a week.

  “What will they have you doing?”

  “I went a few times last semester. I guess a bunch of us are sent and then they decide who they want to bring in as an intern? Anyway, I got to spend some time in their control room, and I got to hear the lingo being used in action. It didn’t sound silly when they used it.”

  I’d heard D taking to the control room, and he used that lingo, too. Roger that. Copy that. I didn’t mention it, though. “They also gave me images and had me play with them to try to finesse details out. I took a few classes to learn how to use computer graphics programs, specifically so I’d have that skill. They had their professionals do it too, and it was interesting to see what I could get from a picture and then read their report and see their final images.”

  “I can work with images a little on my phone. Lighten or darken them, change the colors around so something pops. That’s the extent of my skills.”

  “That can be a big deal, especially if you’re looking at a picture from a security cam. But yeah, there are better tricks, and I learned some of them just from reading this guy’s reports. I’m excited about getting to go back.”

  “What does the company get for helping train you?”

  “Once they trust me to do shit, six hours of free labor every week. Also, the ability to spend time with people and decide whether to offer them a job upon graduation. They can grab up new people they don’t have to pay an arm and a leg. Aaron says recruiting from the existing workforce, or hiring people as they leave the military, can get expensive.”

  “Do they know you’ll be working for their competition?”

  I grinned. “Aaron suggested it might be best if I don’t mention that.”

  He chuckled. “He’s likely right.”

  Words can’t describe how good our meal was. Every bite was an orgasm of flavor, which sounds a little silly, but I can’t think of another way to put it. So much taste in every mouthful. Our conversation was mostly casual, just talking about nothing in particular, but it flowed, and as always, there was so much we saw eye-to-eye on.

  It wasn’t until we were waiting for dessert to be delivered that I decided to get serious.

  “Sophia has a friend who’s a therapist. Or, who used to be one and isn’t exactly practicing anymore, but she still talks to…” I was going at this all wrong. “The point is, she identifies as a sexual submissive even though she’s a bad-ass. She’s worked with a lot of rescued sex slaves. Real ones, who were abducted from foster care as children and now they’re young adults who’ve been freed, but they’re royally fucked up. She says I exhibit many of the traits they do, and she’s talked to me about how to see myself as valuable outside of what I can do for someone sexually.”

  “You’re talking about Kirsten?”

  “You know her?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve briefly met her when I’ve visited our Chattanooga chapter, and there aren’t many therapists rumored to be submissive behind closed doors who are bad-asses in their everyday life.”

  “She and Sophia are good friends, and Sophia set it up for me to talk to her a few times. The point is, being a derby girl has helped me get past… I don’t know how to explain it. Female power sounds corny, but roller derby helped me find myself. I mean, my college classes have helped with my self-confidence, and my martial arts studies have obviously been a big part of finding my inner warrior. Becoming proficient with firearms has made me feel more powerful when I’m carrying, but there are too many places I have to leave it in the car, so I can’t use it as a crutch. Topping male submissives also flipped some switches inside me and helped me redefine who I am. It made me the person giving the orders instead of the person following them. Mentally, I need that. Possibly emotionally as well. Turns out it isn’t what I need sexually, and I guess I’m still working my head around that.”

  “All because I came along and toppled your world?”

  “Yeah, but Kirsten says it can be perfectly healthy for me to submit, and that w
hat I’m going through is normal for someone with my background. For some ex-slaves, it can be healthy for them to find a Master or Top or Dom they love and respect, and who’ll take them over twenty-four/seven. Some end up discovering they prefer to Top, while others find it works for them to submit to a dominant sadist during sex without letting it bleed out into the rest of their lives. I’m pretty sure I fall into the latter category, but she’s been clear there’s no right or wrong way to feel as long as I’m true to my needs.”

  I took a drink, and my hand shook enough the top of the wine had ripples. I’m certain he noticed, but he didn’t react as if he did. I put the glass down and kept going. “I want to direct the way my life goes, but I can’t pretend I don’t get turned on when I’m bossed around and manhandled and required to submit for sex.” I took a breath. “Able trained me to enjoy pain, and Kirsten says unless I want to spend years being reprogrammed, it’s fine to accept that this is what I need from a partner.”

  Finally, he responded. “And you’ve discovered you can get this from anyone. It doesn’t have to be the biker with the misshapen face.”

  Somehow, I’d had the impression he didn’t give a fuck about his face. Take him or leave him, but he didn’t have time or energy for people who couldn’t see him for who he is. I shook my head. “I love your face. It’s you. I see it as different, sure, but it isn’t a negative for me. I’m sorry if others have made you feel self-conscious about it.”

  “I haven’t worried about it since I was a young teen. Before puberty. But in the past couple of weeks I’ve wondered if maybe I’d have been able to keep you if my face wasn’t fucked up. Human women don’t know I can hear them from across the room. I know how society sees me because I’m constantly hearing it. Usually, it doesn’t bug me, but...” He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I brought that insecurity back into your life. Your history has created the person you are today, someone I happen to care a great deal about. Would you be the man I’m trying so hard not to fall in love with if you’d been born with a different face?”

  He’d been about to take a drink, but he put his beer mug down before it got to his lips, and he sat back. “You’re trying not to fall in love with me?”

  “I don’t seem to be doing a good job of it.” I breathed in. “Why are you upset?”

  “If I’m someone you could love, and you know we work together, what’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me in your life?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you. I’m the one who’s all fucked up.”

  The waitress brought our desserts and talked to us a few moments. When she left, I focused on Dementor and ignored the slice of chocolate decadence on the table before me. “I thought I loved Able.” I shook my head. “No, that isn’t right. I loved him, but I couldn’t see how unhealthy the relationship was, or that he didn’t return the feelings. He cared for me, but he was still waiting to meet his true love. I was just a placeholder until he found her, and I now realize he took a whole bunch of other women for a spin, each time hoping she might be the one. I was often put out of sight and out of mind while he did that, or only requested when his latest plaything had other plans, I guess.” I shrugged. “The point is that I need to figure out how to fall in love with someone and make sure it’s healthy going both ways.”

  I smelled anger and didn’t understand until he spoke. “I regret the asshole got himself killed in the battle, because now I can’t beat the ever lovin’ fuck out of him.”

  “You’d do that to the Owl King?”

  The muscles in his jaw rippled. “I would, and it might get me kicked out of the MC if I created a big enough political storm, but I’d do it anyway.”

  “Mad Dog would kick you out?”

  “Fuck no. He might help me do it, which would get him kicked out too, and I can’t imagine my brothers would vote me out, but the national organization probably couldn’t afford to be at odds with the owls.” He rubbed at the short, recently trimmed beard on his jaw. “It’s possible they’d back me, but we aren’t supposed to take it upon ourselves to pick fights with powerful organizations. Even if I left my cut at home, I’d still be a representative of the club, and the blowback would hit us all. By supernatural law, you were there of your own accord after Sophia negotiated for you, so there’s a good chance I’d be on my own with it.” The muscles around his eyes tensed and narrowed. “Wouldn’t matter. I’d still go after him.”

  “Kirsten asked me if I thought Sophia should’ve insisted I leave, but I’d have resented Sophia and probably put myself into another bad situation. I needed to learn this lesson the hard way. I was addicted to the power exchange, and I had to hit rock bottom and claw myself out before I could even begin to put myself in a position of power.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  He was still angry and hurt, but he seemed to be trying not to be. I wanted to assure him it was going to be okay, but I wasn’t sure it would be. I needed to be honest, but I tried to soften it as much as possible.

  “Long term? I’m not sure. I want you in my life, but I’m not ready to commit to you and you alone, so we’ll have to figure out how that looks. Short term…” I took a breath and asked before I lost my nerve. “Will you sleep with me tonight? Just hold me and sleep. No sex tonight or in the morning. Just conversation and sleep and then breakfast. I’ll need to leave the house at nine twenty because my first class is at ten.”

  “If we can stop by my apartment so I can get some shorts to sleep in, and if you wear shorts and a shirt, or sweatpants and a shirt, I’d love to hold you all night.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dementor

  Sleeping with her without fucking her was easier than I expected, but it was still an exercise in self-control.

  And yet, I’d do it every night I was off work for a month if it would bring her back to me. Holding her in my arms while she was totally relaxed, talking and snuggling and just plain comfortable with each other. The intimacy fed my soul.

  Perhaps there was something for me to learn here, too. Intimacy didn’t have to equal sex.

  I asked to see her schedule while we ate breakfast. She had oatmeal with a ton of honey and cinnamon in it, along with about a half a stick of butter. She also had eggs and bacon. I had the eggs and bacon with steak on the side. Oatmeal isn’t my thing.

  She had a legal class, a graphic arts class, an ethics class, her time interning, and a business writing and speech class. Twenty-four hours plus lab time. “Damn, they don’t make your final semester easy, do they?”

  “The only criminal justice classes I had left for my major were the legal class and ethics class. Well, and the capstone intern thing. The graphic arts is for my minor, and the writing and speech class is an elective. It isn’t that bad.”

  “You have lunch on Thursday’s at two? Can I meet you somewhere? Or I can pick you up from class and take you somewhere, if you’d rather.”

  “I’d like that. I have two hours between classes, but I usually eat and then look over the study materials for my ethics class before I walk in, so we won’t have the whole two hours together. If you pick me up outside my legal class and drop me off outside the humanities building, we’ll have around an hour and twenty minutes. Well, unless I have a test, and then we won’t have as long.”

  My insides relaxed. I’d been sure she was going to turn me down, but I’d had to ask anyway. “There’s a nice seafood restaurant just south of campus.” She loved shrimp.

  “You’d be happier with the barbecue place a few blocks over.”

  I touched her hand. “You don’t always have to consider my preferences, Ember. Relationships are a give-and-take. Sometimes we focus on my favorites, sometimes we focus on yours, sometimes we find a happy middle. This week, I’m focusing on your favorites.”

  She took a breath and let it out. Something in her psyche seemed to settle. I don’t know how I knew, or even if I was imagining it.r />
  “Thank you. You’re right, of course.”

  I had to ask. “Something just changed. Can you explain what I’m sensing?”

  “Kirsten and Aaron have both stressed that I have to let people treat me as special and treasured and valued and whatever. I felt all of those things while I was with Able, but they both said it was more about what I did for him that he valued than—” She rolled her eyes. “Damn, I’m tired of talking about him. What changed is that I finally get it. You want to make me happy in the same way I want to make you happy.”

  Ember

  Three weeks later, and he took me to lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and we went out on a date Sunday afternoon each week. He works Friday and Saturday night, but he’s off on Sunday and Monday. During the week, his days are free but he works nights. Even if we became a thing, he wasn’t going to take over my life.

  I’d invited him back to my place every Sunday, and I hadn’t asked him to keep sex out of it, and yet he hadn’t made the first move past some pretty heavy kissing, and that was never while we were actually in bed.

  And I knew he’d awakened with a hard-on every morning because I’d felt it, but he never mentioned it and seemed to completely ignore it.

  I texted him early Thursday. I have a picnic blanket in my backpack. Any chance you can go to Mooyah before you pick me up, and then we can go to the park and eat? I want two cheddar bacon burgers, a ton of fries, and a cookie dough shake.

  Perfect. It’s beautiful outside. Do I need to bring anything besides food, drinks, and a ton of napkins?

  Not that I can think of.

  It was the middle of February and still chilly, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and I needed to feel the sun on my skin.

  We spread the blanket, took our seats, and Dementor divided the food between us. He’d bought a half-dozen of the same kind of burger so there’d be no confusion. Also because he really likes bacon.

  “I had a dual reason for eating lunch in the park.” I told him.