Primal Howl (Primal Howlers MC Book 1)

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Primal Howl (Primal Howlers MC Book 1) Page 9

by Piper Davenport


  “So, you have to fight.”

  “Yeah.”

  I smiled, my heart suddenly lighter. “I’ll make you soup.”

  “Soup?”

  “When you’re dealing with the worst part of chemo. You’ll probably be wrecked, and I make a damned good chicken noodle soup, chock full of stuff that will give you strength.”

  His eyes got soft again and he gave my hands another squeeze. “I can’t wait,” he said, and pulled back onto the road.

  “Since Orion’s on a run, would you mind dropping me home?” I asked.

  “You’re welcome at the cabin, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks. But I have a few things I need to do, so home would be best.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I directed him to my townhouse and he insisted on walking me to my door and waiting for me to step inside.

  “Lock up.”

  “I will,” I promised and closed the door, locking it and heading upstairs to cry my eyes out for a few minutes. Or hours. I wasn’t sure how long my crying jag would last, just that my heart was breaking for Orion and his dad and I needed to get a grip before I saw Orion again.

  * * *

  My body being jostled awake was my first indication I’d actually fallen asleep, and then strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me against a hard body. “You weren’t at the club when I got there,” Orion accused.

  “Sorry,” I whispered on a yawn, rolling to face him. “I had a few things to get done, so I figured with you being gone anyway, I’d take advantage.”

  “And did you get everything done?”

  “No,” I admitted, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Apparently, I fell asleep.”

  “Anything you want to tell me?”

  “Not really.”

  He kissed me gently and stroked my cheek. “I’m taking Dad to chemo tomorrow.”

  I searched his face for irritation but found nothing but love. “How do you feel about that?”

  “In awe that you’re mine, honestly.”

  I smiled. “So, you don’t feel I overstepped my bounds and ignored your edict to be the subservient little woman who doesn’t speak until she’s spoken to?”

  He chuckled. “I see the story gets more elaborate every time you tell it.”

  “I’m pretty sure I just quoted you warmly and accurately.”

  “I love you, even if you’re crazy.”

  “Love you back, DC.”

  He grinned. “You wanna share what you and Dad talked about?”

  “I just asked him to fight.”

  “Jesus. Seriously?” he hissed.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He leaned in to kiss me gently. “I don’t deserve you.”

  I grinned. “You better never forget that, buddy.”

  “Don’t ever plan on doing that.” He slid off the bed. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.” I rubbed my eyes. “If you’re cooking. I need to study.”

  “Need help with that?”

  “It’s microbiology, so, yes, absolutely. Can you multitask?”

  “Not well.” He grinned. “But I’ll cook, then we’ll study.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said, and followed him downstairs.

  For the next two hours, we cooked, we flirted, and Orion tried to explain microbiology to me. Unsuccessfully.

  I let out a frustrated groan. “I’m a lost cause.”

  “Baby, you’re not,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist.

  I dropped my head to his chest. “Everything you’re saying sounds so incredibly smart and I don’t understand any of it.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “I have an idea.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle any more ideas.”

  He chuckled. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take you on a field trip.”

  “Where?”

  He lifted my chin and smiled. “Can’t tell you. But I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” I breathed out. “But since we now have the night off, I’d like to eat ice cream off your dick.”

  “Jesus, woman, you’re insatiable.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”

  “Not even a little bit.” He slid his hands under my T-shirt and stroked my back. “What flavor do you want?”

  I grinned. “Rocky Road.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I grabbed the ice cream and followed him upstairs.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, I walked out of class to find Orion waiting by his bike. Lordy, the man looked edible in his dark jeans, motorcycle boots, and leather jacket.

  “Hi,” I said, leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had your dad’s chemo appointment.”

  “All done. He’s home and resting comfortably. Letti’s on Dad watch,” he said.

  I frowned. “Okay.”

  “Did you forget I was taking you on a field trip?”

  I smiled. “No, but I thought I was meeting you at the cabin. Much later. Like, way after you took your dad to his appointment.”

  “Figured we’d go for a little ride.”

  “My car—”

  “Is back at the cabin,” he interrupted.

  “What?”

  “Sierra loaned me your spare key. I had Aero move it, then take the key back to Sierra.”

  “Seriously?”

  He kissed me again. “Yep. Sierra gave Aero your leather jacket and I’ve got an extra helmet. Come on, we’ll throw your shit in the saddlebags.”

  “Well, you seem to have thought of everything.”

  He chuckled. “Boy Scouts.”

  “You were a Boy Scout?”

  “Hell, yeah, I was,” he said, taking my books from me and handing me my jacket and helmet. “Eagle Scout, baby.”

  I chuckled. “Well, color me impressed.”

  He grinned and threw his leg over his bike, waiting for me to climb on behind him. I tightened the strap on my helmet, then slid on and wrapped my arms tight around his waist. We took off and I snuggled close to him, letting the vibration of the bike soothe me.

  God, I loved being on the back of a bike, and there was something even more special about being on the back of my man’s bike. I was sorely disappointed when we pulled through a ten-foot barbed wire fence and drove up to a huge warehouse at the edge of Colorado Springs.

  We climbed off the bike and I removed my helmet and jacket, handing them to Orion after he’d fished my purse out of one of the saddlebags.

  He grinned, taking my hand. “This is one of our grow centers.”

  “Oh, seriously?”

  “Yep. Welcome to the house of Frankenflower.”

  “Frankenflower?”

  “Our growers are constantly perfecting new hybrid strains and I can never keep up with all of the names, so I just call them our Frankenflowers.”

  I chuckled. “Does that make you Dr. Frankenstone?”

  He dropped his head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s good. I guess that would make Chan Igor.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Paul Chandler. Our lead horticulturist. Come on. I think you need a visual demonstration on how all of this works.”

  He led me into the building and we were met with all manner of fancy security. He used a key card to get through the front door, then had to use the card again to get through the foyer doors. “Everything in here is bullet proof,” he explained.

  “Smart,” I said.

  Once through the foyer doors, we walked into a large room where two security guards stood by another set of doors.

  “Hey, Orion,” the older of the two said.

  “Hey, Mike.” He nodded to the other guard. “Larry. I’d like you both to meet Raquel.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you,” they said.

  “Is Chan around?”

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “He’s in the lab.”

  “Cool,” Orion said, and used his keycard again to move through
the building.

  I gripped Orion’s hand as he led me through hallways, past windowed rooms full of plants, and then into a large bright room containing one man, his curly hair a little long and messy, which made him look a bit like a mad scientist. However, instead of wearing a white coat, he wore a rubber apron.

  “Hey, Ori,” he said, setting the notebook down he’d been writing in.

  “Hey. This is Raquel,” he said, tugging me forward.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Raquel is having a difficult time in microbiology, so I figured I’d give her a hands-on visual tutoring session.”

  “My pleasure. Anything I can help with?” Chandler asked.

  “How are you with Bacterial Pathogenesis?”

  “I develop new and better strains of weed for a living, so that should be an indicator,” he replied.

  “Don’t let Dr. Chandler fool you,” Orion said. “The man is a certifiable genius and can pop and lock better than any white boy should be allowed.”

  “He’s right about that,” Chandler said.

  “Raquel is researching cannabis for use in treating the symptoms of epilepsy,” Orion said.

  “That’s fantastic,” Chandler said. “If you ever need a partner to bounce anything off, my lab door is always open. The world of cannabis can be a confusing place for us geeks.”

  “Tell me about it,” I breathed out.

  “I get it.” Chandler nodded. “But understanding the hemp plant is easier than you think. You’re in good hands around here.”

  “That’s what he tells me,” I retorted.

  He chuckled. “I’m sure he does.”

  “If you’re done flirting with my girl, I’m gonna show her the grow lab.”

  “Have fun,” he said, and Orion guided me down the hall again and into an entirely different room.

  The walls were covered with plants, all labeled, with clipboards hanging below each plant and I leaned forward to read one. Of course, it was Greek to me, but it looked like the details of the plant’s origins, along with THC and CBD levels.

  There was a bunch of other notes and information, but I had no idea what any of it meant, so I straightened and made my way to the huge table in the middle of the room.

  “Whatta ya think?” Orion asked.

  “The smell is a bit much,” I admitted.

  “You get used to it,” he said with a smile. “Has the smell or the smoke ever bothered you when you’ve smoked it?”

  I laughed. “I’ve never smoked weed,” I said in a tone that made me sound like a child theater actor in an anti-drug skit.

  “Edibles? Vape?” Orion asked, confused.

  “I’ve never gotten high.”

  Orion paused for a moment, before turning and walking away without a word.

  Raquel

  THIRTY SECONDS LATER, Orion reappeared with a small plastic bag filled with what looked like green candies of some sort.

  “Here,” Orion said, placing a small green gummy in my hand.

  “A frog?” I asked with a nervous giggle.

  “It’s an edible.”

  “I figured that out. I’m not that square,” I said.

  “The fact you just used the term ‘square’ sorta says otherwise, doesn’t it?”

  “Brat.” I smacked Orion’s rock-hard chest. “Why do I have it?”

  “Because you’re going to eat it,” he said plainly.

  “Why would I do that? I just told you I don’t get high. I’ve never ingested cannabis in any form.”

  “Well, you’d better buckle up, buttercup, because you’re about to,” Orion said with a grin.

  “My research is purely scientific and aimed entirely at the medical field. I have no interest in the recreational weed market,” I said, attempting to give the gummy back to Orion.

  “This is medical research,” he said, refusing.

  “How will me getting baked help fight disease?”

  “Baked? It’s a ten-mil edible, not a trip out to the Mystery Machine with Scooby and Shaggy,” he said in an easy laugh that made my heart flutter.

  “What if I scromit?”

  “Scromit?”

  “When you ingest copious amounts of Marijuana, you can scream and vomit uncontrollably.”

  “That’s not a thing.”

  “Scromiting is absolutely a thing. It’s becoming quite prominent in medical journals, as a matter of fact.”

  Once Orion stopped guffawing enough to breathe, he shook his head and said, “I promise I’ll never let you ingest enough pot to scromit, Frazzle.”

  Orion possessed a natural warmth like no man I’d ever known. Except for maybe his father. And even though I was in a pot lab with a biker who was attempting to give me drugs, I felt as ‘safe as kittens’ as Nana used to say. I laughed on the inside at the irony of the situation, as this was the exact type of scenario my brother had tried to shield me from my entire life. Not only tried but succeeded. Tristan had always done a great job of protecting me from the dangerous side of his club, while doing his best to promote the best traits of its members.

  Of course, the Dogs were a vastly different club from the Howlers in just about every imaginable way, but still. I’d always had a feeling about Orion that made me trust him in a way that I trusted my brother.

  “Look, Chan has asthma. Real bad, actually, so he’s an expert in all things edible, because he can’t smoke. His formulas are world-renowned, but this needs to be your decision, Razzle, and I can give you three reasons why I think you should become friends with Mr. Hoppy there,” Orion said, pointing to the edible still clutched within my sweaty hand.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Do tell,” I challenged.

  “First of all, I meant it when I said I believed it will provide valuable data for your research.”

  The temperature between my thighs shot up by at least ten degrees. Apparently, I liked it when Orion spoke clinically, just as much as he did when I talked like a biker. I did my best to remain focused on my rebuttal and I licked my lips as I took a deep breath. “I told you, the scope of my research doesn’t contain the psychotropic effects of cannabis.”

  “Maybe you should broaden your scope,” he countered. “The whole reason you’re studying cannabis in the first place is to fight disease, right?”

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “How do you know the scope of the diseases you can treat with cannabis if you don’t know the full effects of the plant itself? Both THC and CBD have their medical benefits, and many effective psychiatric medications produce psychotropic effects.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing but puritanical hot air came out, so Orion continued, “Secondly. You’re going to come across a shit ton of people during your research and every one of them is going to have a strong opinion on the subject of pot.”

  “So?” I asked, which was at least an upgrade from nothing.

  “So…most of these opinions are gonna be based on third-hand misinformation, anecdotes, fantasy, and utter bullshit. On both sides.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some people think cannabis is the devil’s lettuce, right? It’s an evil drug that leads to all kinds of untold debauchery,” Orion said in a mock Southern Baptist preacher voice. “Of course, they’re wrong, but not without their valid points from time to time. On the other hand, you have pot evangelists that want the world to believe that bong rips cure everything from athlete’s foot to brain cancer. Those folks usually just end up muddying the waters of public discussion for medical use.”

  “So, how does me getting high fix the fact that both sides are wrong?”

  “It won’t,” Orion said.

  “Are you sure I’m not stoned already, because I’m really confused. I thought you wanted me to eat the frog?”

  Orion laughed softy, gently opened my clenched fist, and took the now warm and gooey edible from me, and held it up.

  �
��I want you to take cannabis so you can relate to both sides. You’re a level-headed woman of science, studying within a field charged with high emotions and opinions, and I think it would be cool if you studied every aspect of what people find useful about this little green plant.”

  Orion had nothing but valid points from a research standpoint, I was doing nothing illegal or unethical, and apart from the high sugar content of the gummy, wasn’t putting anything harmful into my body. I was also a grown-ass woman, who was curious, in the company of someone she trusted, and I just so happened to love gummies. I closed my eyes and stuck out my tongue like a parishioner receiving communion. Playing the role of priest, Orion placed the edible on my tongue, which I then chewed and swallowed before opening my eyes.

  “You said there were three reasons I should eat the frog, but you only gave me two.”

  “The third reason’s a tad less scientific,” Orion said with a grin. “You need a little vacation for a few hours, and I know you well enough to know you’re not gonna do that without a little assistance.”

  “I do not have a problem relaxing,” I argued. “I relax whenever I’m not working, studying, or in the lab.”

  “Which is when exactly?”

  “Lately, a lot! In fact, you’re a bad influence on my work ethic.”

  “Me? How do you figure?”

  I waved my hands in the air violently. “Look what we’re doing right now? I should be at home studying and you just gave me an edible, while using big boy words that are making me horny.”

  Orion laughed heartily. “We’re standing in a lab after school, when you should be relaxing, and the only way you were able to convince yourself to take that edible was to focus on the research benefits.”

  Once again, Orion saw right through me and spoke his thoughts bluntly, yet kindly.

  “Yeah, well. I don’t even feel anything, so this was probably all for nothing anyway,” I said.

  “Edibles aren’t like taking a shot of tequila, or even smoking flower, where you begin to feel the effects right away,” Orion said.

  “How long does it take and when will I know?”

  “Usually around an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less. And don’t worry you’ll know.

  I nodded and Orion kissed me before leading me back into the lab.

  * * *

  “I swear to god, I’ll cut your balls off with the knife in my boot if you lay another skip down, Chan.”

 

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